add to wish list...
two compliments today: "you're looking well" and "you're looking very clean". Jess said my life was "pretty much perfect". my new album is being produced by rick rubin. at the expense of not going to Rita's funeral, i've had a very good weekend, in which i've slept with two ladies (technically)*. friday involved being so up for it, that on my solo walk back from the pub, i popped into the glouschestershire, and had a bit of a jig, and then Ewa appeared and the night went on, until i was ejecting five strangers from my house at four o'clock in the morning. Ewa stayed the night, bless her, and her thankfully-odourless feet. then to london for Ed's birthday party, dressed as 'Radiohead's 'difficult' period'. lots of lovely faces, old and new. upon the point of leaving for brighton at two, Ruth turned up, and we sat chatting to the sound of Billy Bragg 'til four, then went back and watched The Simpons. went for further drinking with Ed and Pete in a terrible Scream pub the next day, and was home by ten in the evening, for Grass, and Laurence's parents had left me a bottle of organic Black Isle Porter, for which i am very thankful.
i used to get away with saying 'clarts' without bringing strangers home for a jam. interesting.
this takes the biscuit:
* dammit jim, i'm a doctor, not an ambiguity!
that said, i don't have a new album, and i don't want to make salacious, dirty humourisms based upon my adventures of the mate of the bloke who set up the P.A.. i just thought it was funny that i can technically get away with saying that.
EDIT: looking at the baby tiger sketches page, i notice that alongside Monica Queen is an act called 'Quinn'. could this be the same Quinn that felighted audiences in Durham with tales of his 'Dirty Laundry', 'Pink Pashmina', and 'Expensive Giraffe'? i think we should be told.