saintadatha

Watching Clockwork Orange on C4.
"My brothers, would you believe?"

Gods what a great little flick. And I mean that with respect.
On many fronts.

Also writing a current CV, which I started this morning, in a hopefully succesful attempt to obtain new work. Need more middle-brow cerebral use; need more money. What choice have I?

But deadlines have become begun to loom distant on yonder horizon,
and life-plans similarly reappearing. Oh, what to do?
"Where's my snake?"

I emotionally dumped on V, the lovely housemate, last night. But she was included, peripherally and through metaphor, in sections of said voicing. But I feel better, and I don't think I bruised relations more than superficially, thankfully.
My downstairs neighbour has returned from hospital, after I had to call an ambulance for him a few months back. He plays his TV too loud, like an insect murmur that humms and bzzz bzz buzzes through the floorboards. I think of the good Doctor Waits:
"What's he building in there?"

Q. What's you favourite apple?
Does language define reality, or is it the other way round?
What is he building in there?

Love and lollipops,
ads
x

PS. North Londoners: Anyone Camden-like? (Not stalkerish, honest)