Gonna grab you

Pooping Birds are so very, very cool. Immediately gratifying connections. I really want to go back to Antwerp. Noon, Dimi, Caia; exceptional characters all. Thank you for a wonderful birthday. And my boys...oh my boys! Luke, Fitz, Steve, Dan. Bumped into Gin Panic in Belgium, as you do, which made our time there even more special. Laid down upon a ballet room floor we did slumber. Maths ain't so cack since last weekend. It all seemed to fall into place. Got the method? Got the math.

Been looking into precisely what kind of dog breed I'll get. Right now it's between a Saarloos and an American Indian Dog. Saarloos are about as close to a wolf as you can legally get in the UK and surprisingly easier to get hold of than an American Indian Dog. AIDs are well fucking boss though. They aren't as wolfy but they look so clever and keen. Maybe I can get both. Fuck yes, that is the plan. One trip to a breeder in Carmarthenshire for the Saarloos and on the way home scoop up an AID from Devon. My brother used to think the disease AIDS was a plural and that he could kill me by feeding me 'an aid'. This made me laugh more than any stand-up comic ever will.

Awwoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo x

Things I would like to have but fail to have #001

Where sea bruises earth

She writhes out of the surf
Bending you right back
Flounder in her tide
Playing a Jew's Harp
Describe her in four words
'Promise of New Land'
Her feet don't leave a mark
Ghosting the treeline

jesus judas peter michael mark pontius kasen has no maturity to speak of but an impressive abundance of consistently out of tune vocals

happy rhys. of late all has been good news. i have decided to become a teacher. i have to study maths again due to my lack of studying the first time round. once this is accomplished and with equal proportions luck and skill i can hopefully begin a GTP course in hertfordshire this september. my love life finally appears to include love again. but this is tentative and frightening.

wild dogs in winter...oooh we seem to have moved up a notch recently. we are playing with not one but two wonderful canadian bands. Picastro who have had a large influence on my musical output since last summer and HRSTA, who have had a huge influence on luke since he was a determined testicle spark. 'homba' looks like its gonna be really good! gravid hands wish to release it in the UK and frontal distribution wish to release it in benelux. we have also been offered a publishing deal with mango reel. so all in all its going great for once. the boys are coming down to maidstone on saturday to celebrate my birthday in town and for rehearsal and then we go to belgium on monday where we are playing a show on tues (my actual birthday). yes yes yes. i really like stuff at the moment. except maths

no score draw

its freezing in the garden with a sneaky cigarette
its the wolfshead in the kitchen
tiny blood marks in our bed
its the way your freckles shift when you smile
its the way your drink runs out quicker than anyone else
don't let up from your answer
i can't get up
show them scholars what for
hold it down until we're all for no more
and the ash is on our sleeves and not in our throats

No I'm not.

Giant mousse-coloured mooseheads. They're everywhere these days...its hard. Particularly at Christmas. I should be thinking about friends and family and food. But all there is...is mooseheads. I think one fractured my skull last night. It was one of those singing ones, you know the type, all 'look at me, listen to me, look at me'. But all I wanted to do was eat her. So I did and I think an antler cleft my palette and stormed my brain. The TV went blank. It was playing an African game with me. The one where you keep pressing the button until you are either trampled by a single water buffalo or jumped on by several serval cats. I prefer the latter almost exclusively and luckily last night, thats how it worked out. When they were bounding around I couldn't stop laughing. I didn't want to. So I didn't and I was sick. My vomit was chock-a-block with fucking mooseheads. The toilet was full of mooseheads. And they were all the singing ones. I had my beard just the right length for them to hide in as well so when I went back to my brother he couldn't see them and he didn't believe that they even existed. I could feel their moosehead laughter vibrating in my beard as I shouted myself hoarse trying to make him understand. And you know the problem with shouting yourself hoarse is that you actually turn into a Shetland Pony. I love having the shaggy mane and stuff, its very endearing, but I can't drink wine unless its put in a bowl and my brother prefers not to keep bowls in his house because he hates rice. So I whispered myself human again and finished off the bottle.

Don't touch me, you look like a capuchin

I only seem to remember this blog when i have brandy in front of me, Oh no...Heather inspired me to write something tonight. Anything. I am quite possibly the least prolific blogger there has ever been or close thereof. A few nights ago I got asked to contribute to We Sink Ships new project. I will write a piece every month for five months starting in december 09 to coincide with photography and music. Apparently it may become a 'physical product'. I would love this to come true.

Hugely loved up with Suzanna this evening. I am most times we share correspondence. I am most times. The sky is pelting the glass from outside. I think its rain rather than hail. But it must be at least purple rain. Watched La Haine today. Again. But haven't seen it for a few years. Still got the tingles I always did get when the helicopter shot of the suburb rooftops is soundtracked by the DJ mixing KRS-One with Edith Piaf.

Some of my friends do this blog shit with ease. Since my last entry my cock has stopped hurting and I have found a girl I am actually allergic to. Well her bed at least. 'Homba' is coming along great I am really pleased with it although I want some more electro stuff going on in there. I know we're a 'down' band but I P-Diddn't want it to be this 'down'. We'll see. We're writing some gorgeous interludes so maybe that'll break it up. What do I know?...A lot actually.
One person is doing my nut. Fuck off. Realistically you should know who you are. Special love mentions this time go to Luke, Stephen and Marianne.