Barbary horses, bourbon biscuits.

I have four days of teaching left. Four days until I can be a real human again! I shall smoke and drink and hoot and holler and run out without a hat! I shall be shoeless and louche! I shall eat cake for breakfast and decline all telephone calls!

And so I’m making plans. Some of which are secret. But I can say that I am very excited to be getting involved with the Cambridge Independent Filmmakers Association (CIFA), who seem to be pretty full speed ahead at the moment. The annual Cambridge film festival coming up in September and CIFA are busy trying to make some horror/comedy microshorts.

Anyway, whilst in the pub with the CIFA bunch, I mentioned a creepy dream I’d had. A quick brainstorm ensued, which has resulted in a shoot planned for August. So I am putting ideas together in a sort of plan, feeling, as ever, grossly incompetent. If only there were a market for grammarless senseless meanderings, I should be very grateful.

M & I went down to London, not to look at the Queen but instead to celebrate the beautiful Helen’s birthday, in a Mexican bar in Streatham where a man attempted to drown her with a bottle of tequila. She gets lovelier and lovelier every time I see her, with her saucer eyes – my dear and oldest friend. M & I slept on a comedy air-mattress that slowly deflated during the night.

Here’s a poem about being stuck in a job you hate:

a polar animal with a br//ken leg

in a field of flowers

rubs her nose on the ghosts

a pasture of sweet suchness that she gets

one orange ribbon ball, one pink lollipop, loneliness, tangents, and the little red mouths, [corvid

ratchets your legs at breakneck speak

bottle and bitumen, biltong and bubblegum, barbie barbiturates

barbary horses, bourbon biscuits

he said he favours

love i said

i get it out the clouds, i get lightning for the washrooms of the emperor

i was blinded by his bees.

they said pronunciation & so we said /ŋ/ /ə/ /æ/

you have to say them so

down pat.

you have to count the shed feathers: it is very important to know

these are the 50 colloquial expressions of loss, a polar animal

with a broken leg. 50 broken legs. no stars.

Translate Single Words. Move slowly make no suddennmovements.

my man went away

voice and vector. stay very still. move gently make no SuDDEN movements!

the ghost are at the lips. quiet hummingbirds. sip.

kokkala bonedrums. Helvetica light.

Grasshoppers warring. Gladioli.

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