I have been Googled by Greater Manchester PoliceLast night Mr Pig performed the five point palm exploding heart technique on my blog writing app. At least she stood on my phone and it has not functioned since. So I am back to he laptop typing with fingers instead of thumbs. This is probably a blessing in disguise as my thumbs, frankly, are wrecked. At this time of year an old war wound flares up and I begin to lose their use. Such an evolutionary regression is not too debilitating though some do like to make jokes. I have finished reading Greybeard which ended satisfactorily without fanfare or conclusion. Things go on much as they were before, Aldiss seems to view the future with the sort of phlegmatic resignation to which I aspire. Today has been a housework day. I tackled the kitchen first and then moved around the house armed with a duster until my enthusiasm and the polish sputtered to a finish (fairly quickly). There are new projects coming into view in the near and nearish future. First I have to deliver that talk in Peckham with Aliceson. I think I am supposed to be making some sort of presentation upon the merits of blogging (and twitter). Tomorrow will be soon enough for that. Next, in December, I have been invited to show at The Monks Gallery in Lincoln and am negotiating growing cress in their carpet. They seem keen but then I mentioned staining and watering. Beyond that lies Northampton a town existing in the grey reaches of time and space.
That was yesterday, or even the day before, I am not sure. I have got no further on my talk, it may have to be a last minute thing. I have slept much of today only waking to frighten the USPS man and to give Kaavous some work for Eastern Pavilions which opens this Friday in Norwich. I had completely forgotten about it but manage to scrape together a more or less coherent body of work and magic some prices up.
Tomorrow I must enter my residency space again, everythig will be dead, I am beginning to enjoy this eternal round of death and rebirth (and death) and wonder on which note it will end. Last night we watched “Never Let Me Go” based on the Kazuo Ishiguro novel, we both had to lie quietly for a while afterwards clinging to each other. Kaavous said it was the right time for apocalyptic thoughts but tonnight I am determined to watch something jolly. Having said that I have also decided that to up the intellectual content of future posts that my reading will concentrate on a blend of Calvino and Debord so the future may not be all roses and wine.
I need more cress and have found a bulk supplier on eBay, how many seeds are in a kilo?
