Monday, 21 February 2011

I am with you in Rockland

Oh, hello there debilitating mental and physical exhaustion, thought I'd lost you for a minute there! But it's okay, you're still here, ruining my life. *smile* What's that now? You'd like me to fall asleep in the bath and almost drown? Why, I don't mind if I do!

Welcome, welcome. Would you care for a hot beverage? I'll put a little milk on to boil while we get down to business.

Firstly, Jamie Oliver, if you're reading this, GET THE FUCK OFF MY TELEVISION. I'm sick of seeing you and your cringe-worthy idiosyncrasies.

My apologies for my absence of late. As you may have read in recent publications, I'm still ill, suffering with debilitating mental and physical exhaustion. It takes me a long time to organise my thoughts at the moment, so I've had some trouble coming up with a good topic for discussion. You know, something as stimulating and relevant as usual.

I'm currently very excited about the release of Howl, a biopic on the obscenity trial following the publication of Allen Ginsberg's EPIC poem, Howl. I was going to go into the intricacies of my love for both the poet and this poem, but every time I tried, I couldn't do it justice. I just suggest that you read it...and feel the immense power of the written word enveloping you, transporting you, changing you.

Goosebumps, folks, big juicy ones. Here's a photograph of Allen that I took this one time. I consider it my homage to a hero.

I'll be looking for someone to go to the film with; all applicants should send a ONE PAGE A4 letter detailing why they think they're suitable for the position as well as any relevant experience they may have. I don't want a formal letter, that just shows you can write formal letters. I want to read YOU.

Anyway, that's pretty much it. I have a whole list of things that I was going to write about, but it's just too...involving.

Here's a pseudo-poem I'm thinking about writing:

Your eyes are like windows into a little shop
that sells chocolates, the likes of which
have never been dreamt of;
where children stand gazing in -
the scene from a movie where the direction
reads, "Act hungry, like dogs";
where an elderly woman sits, darning furiously,
her fingertips hardened to the prick of the needle,
her face set and cast
in a deep orange light thrown out
by the small lanterns that surround her.

Ah, there's the milk. One cup or two?

1 comment:

  1. "None of that lower fat malarky!"

    I hate you Jamie Oliver. You, and any other blaggard who think it's okay to use the word "malarky".