All entries for August 2006
August 22, 2006
dance on splintered screens
you radiohead fragments
like my sodden shoes
at the Vfest, the divine comedy, beck, radiohead, bloc party, we thank you kindly. keane, there is still a chance that we will forgive you, but it grows more and more slim, as slim as the book marked "time for the soreing chorus" grows fat.
as we waited for beck, i clearly had found a hat, which i used to wear when i had less hair and fewer brains (fewer hairs and less brains / lesser brains and few hairs). george didn't seem to have his, so i was unable to steal it, which is traditional (i.e. we would like that). i stole george's photo instead, which is becoming traditional (i.e. i would like it, and maybe we all will grow to)
radiohead played a song called 'nude', which is utterly beautiful. beautiful in a different way was 'charge' by the divine comedy, whose innuendo i have only recently begun to fathom…
caught in your barbed wire
going bang bang bang bang bang
bang bang bang all night
August 18, 2006
tomorrow, in the city of radio, i head to V..
it reminds me of the last time i went to see radiohead, in manchester. i was picked up by my fellow 'radio–heads' on campus a few hours after we had agreed because of a wrong turning. we drove through birmingham in the rushhour, listening to jimi hendrix, nervously straining against our seatbelts.
we parked in a mysterious wasteland area around the back of some buildings to avoid paying for parking, and ran up to the entrance of the apollo, considerably late. i accosted the security feller, "excuse me, where do we pick our tickets from?". he responded, "all the way over on the other side of town mate." our faces fell, we panicked and tried to work out which way to run. and now? the punchline – "or you could just go into the ticket office, mate" quipped the security man. we could hear 'there there' beginning, and so there was no time for me to question this man about his motives.
i can only assume that he hated radiohead, and 'radio–heads', very much indeed. though the whole experience was very fitting as a preview of their criticisms of alienated subjects and idle destruction. thus:
first, however, i must choose which hat to wear… perhaps george will lend me his? until tomorrow…
as radiohead would say, deciduously:
what would i do? what
if i did not have you?
open up and let me in. lets go down the waterfall
think about the the good things
and never look back and never look back and never look back
the waves go out come in again
August 16, 2006
wherever you go
you are what you are player
(worth eighteen points there)
even when in france, playing european scrabble, blogs are utterly relevant.
do you feel alive
watching my five seven five?
you should five seven jive
i made it to france, and had a wonderful time in an old farmhouse:
our gang of eight arrived, attracting the attention of the local mayor's wife, who feared for her bebe. we responded with humorous mafia jokes – "don't worry, just because we ride in black citroen cars, we are not the mafia" – and she invited us to have dinner. an offer i have only just, after three weeks, remembered.
then we danced under the stars, which we did not notice until three nights later, to songs by and called peaches. i performed a forward–roll upon the lawn, while everyone made themselves at home by creating carnage on the dancefloor.
the week continued in that fashion, getting increasingly fun, until we had to go home. everyone either agreed that it was their favourite holiday, or took too long weighing up their answer for it to be easily remembered.
at the moment i am writing an essay, and feel as though the way i am writing resembles the guardian's 'diary of a genius', sans horror. i am barely more coherent than a game of european scrabble (any european language can be used):
writing an essay can take it out of you, and leave you feeling as if you have been kicked in the head: luckily, when the room was completely black, i kissed her and she kissed back, which is much more therapeutic than expressing yourself in wordly form ("...no doubt this nervousness is heathy, something to be incorporated unconsciously like the joyous bouncing of my right leg’s energetic calf…")
on saturday, some of us philosophers of mind are to V in the very chelmsford that is my hometown. i shall carry a warwick umbrella so that you can all recognise me on the television as we sing along to radiohead (and dance along to beck) in the rain.
i am dry and fly
'neath the chelmsford sky and my