Mawkish Magpie

Spreading their wings like hands in a cape, Magpies like crying.

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Everybody Loves You by SOAK, lyrically it reminds me of David Byrne’s Everyone’s in Love with You.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Q3PTCOBTZE&frags=pl%2Cwn

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All of their songs are great, but this is the one that caught my ear today. K.

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Suspiria - Thom Yorke | Sign up to attend preview playbacks

New Thom Yorke track, gutted I missed out on the listening party, it’s too late to join now but listen to this my mum said this song is ‘nice!’

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A Raleigh Scattering

Inspired by Zadie Smith’s White Teeth: “The sky isn’t really blue. It just looks that way. It’s called Rayleigh Scattering.” 

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Please Don’t Leave Me Alone With My Seabass. 

A scribble inspired by a Pale Seas lyric I heard during their album launch at The Social on Friday 1st September. I misheard the lyric. The real lyric was: Please Don’t Leave Me Alone With My Sadness. 

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“Corduroy, at any time of day, can be a highly stressful fabric.” p19, Zadie Smith, White Teeth.

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“I’m just a singer; it’s only a song. The things I remember are probably wrong. I wish I had pictures of every old day cause all these old memories are fading away”. Stephen Merritt

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The power of feeling.This is a wonderful song and a very heartfelt performance. 

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I wondered if he ever thought about places he had lived , other faces, old girlfriends. Once in a while he seemed bowed down with a weight of shelved memories. Having freight in storage, though, is what you trade to travel light.

A Lesson in Traveling Light, Deborah Eisenberg.

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Kevin Ayers, Town Feeling. The Joy of a Toy.

Today, the town seems like a tomb; Everybody`s locked up in his room; Making love, or taking love--who cares?

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This is my song of the week. I love it. Its great. Great. Great. Great. I’m gunna go take a stroll down town.

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For need can blossom into all the compensations it requires. To crave and to have are as alike as a thing and its shadow. For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it, and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savours of ripeness and earth, and when do our senses know anything so utterly as when we lack it? And here again is a foreshadowing-the world will be made whole. For to wish for a hand on one's hair is all but to feel it. So whatever we may lose, very craving gives it back to us again. Though we dream and hardly know it, longing, like an angel, fosters us, smooths our hair, and brings us wild strawberries

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping, 152.

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Tree-tment

I read a book called ‘Be More Tree’ it was nice and good and wonderfully put

but

the only thing I didn’t get was:

How can I be more tree? The concept placed quite generally.

What kind of tree? The ones that grow?  or the bark that is chopped and burnt, surely thats a know, no?

Ironically this page I read, about being a tree, was a tree formally.

So surely the book should be called: Being More Tree That is in the Floor Growing? Silent and all knowing? 

It is somewhat annoying  being asked and constantly trying to be something I am not: a tree, some water and could you please be more pacific?

Mantras are taking over the world.

I am me and that changes like the weather... never ever the same in England or Ireland put together.

The inner streams of imagination are mine, I don’t want to silence them for the fanciful thought that trees are always.....shush, be quiet, silent. I do not know the tree or what it is or isn’t thinking, it may not be as great or crap as me.

But I think there is enough room in this world for a tree to be a tree and for me to be me

and of course;  you to be you.

               by you I mean you, not a ewe, unless you are a female sheep then you                should be ewe, fully mature and fluffy!

Maybe trees read books about Being More Human maybe, but probably not. Books made out of human flesh wouldn’t make for a light read.

I hope you enjoyed my Poe-tree.

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Uncle Micheal

How does one feel when someone so far away in life and miles and and thought dies?

A sudden attack. A foggy punch of sadness.

I ignored the phone calls 

I thought… I didn’t want it to be my dad. I never see him, but I’d like to. I always worry, every call from home is one that tells me it’s about my Dad.

but it was his brother, dear old Mike who never missed reading the daily paper. it was always so fun and sugary when the family came to visit us in little old Torquay.

Micheal, a man who always had a melted dairy milk in his pocket. ‘aye that’s a Scottish bar of chocolate! You have that, better than this English shite!’ When I was little, learning to play chess with gramps, I needed the energy. As Granddad beat me, again and again (not up, but in clever chess moves) the sound of someone slipped in the shower, over head

thunk!

Oh no, Uncle Micheal.

I remember Dad shouting at us

‘you wee shites!!!!

have you been brushing your teeth in the bath again? Wha did I tell yous about that aye?’

And we’d say ‘No’ lying through our now, clean teeth.

‘Rite! nee more chocolate for yous!’

But we knew when the men had a pint so we would have a pound to spend on chocolate.

To be fair, with all that sugar (it was never just one pint) our teeth needed a big old brushing!

It’s a shock to hear your not here anymore and I’m sad that you have left. But Rest in Peace dear Micheal, you deserve it…after the monumental life 

that you have led.

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This has really made me laugh this evening. I mean....it’s really helped me out. Winky face. Funny, funny, funny.

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It’s cold outside, here is a wonderful cover song! Iiiiiiiiiiit’s Blanket music! 

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Karen O’s new album Crush Songs is really nice. A great Sunday morning listen from a female Daniel Johnson.

“If you love somebody, anybody. There will always be somebody else, so make it right for yourself!”