Tuesday, April 26

It's Today, As Usual


I am not really what you would call a proper blogger. I just use this blog set-up to do this Exulting & Difficult thing because I wasn't clever enough to fix up a proper website. But I quite like blogs where the blogging person tells you what they’re currently reading and listening to. Don’t ask me why. I like it as long as they don’t go on at great length as to why they are listening to and reading etcetera. Here’s mine, as of today..

                 

Henry Green's "Doting" (Green is really fascinating. His prose style does your head in. Annabel is about to open her mouth and let Mr Middleton look at her "perfect gums": "...
the girl, with a 'here you are' leant over to the husband and opened wide the pearly gates. Her wet teeth were long and sharp, of an almost transparent whiteness. The tongue was pointed also and lay curled to a red tip against her lower jaw, to which the gums were a sterile pink. Way back behind, cavernous, in a deeper red, her uvula seemed to shrink from him. But it was the dampness, the cleanliness, the fresh-as-wet-paint must have made the man shut his lips tight, as, in his turn, he leant over hers and it was then, or so he, even, told his wife after, that he got, direct from her throat, a great whiff of flowers."); some Sherlock Holmes ("..... a man who seldom took exercise for exercise's sake. Few men were capable of greater muscular effort, and he was undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight that I have ever seen; but he looked upon aimless bodily exertion as a waste of energy, and he seldom bestirred himself save where there was some professional object to be served. Then he was absolutely untiring and indefatigable. That he should have kept himself in training under such circumstances is remarkable, but his diet was usually of the sparest, and his habits were simple to the verge of austerity. Save for the occasional use of cocaine he had no vices, and he only turned to the drug as a protest against the monotony of existence.... "), and Redell Olsen's "Secure Portable Space". The Olsen will be reviewed here in due course. It involves, in part, a poet who put on Mickey Mouse ears and walked in circles around a London bookshop all day reading from a list of heroes and superheroes. Whets your appetite, doesn't it? As for listening to, there is

                 

These are
The Decemberists' recent “Picaresque” ("Here she comes in her palanquin, on the back of an elephant, on a bed made of linen and sequins and silk…."), Desaparecidos' “Read Music Speak Spanish” ("adolescence made her an activist / now she is the one who does all the lecturing / they got eighteen holes you should have told them to dig one more / your dream is dead"), and Aimee Mann's new “The Forgotten Arm”, which I don't know any of the words to yet. Actually I'm listening to loads more than these three, but they are kind of top of the list. I've also been playing Brendan Benson's "Alternative To Love". He's on at the Rescue Rooms this week and I think I may go along and have a hear. If I do you'll no doubt find out what I thought about it all.

The sun was supposed to shine today, as it has the previous few days, because I have a free day and rather fancied a walk out in Spring sunshine. If I had a dog I was planning to take it with me. Instead, it was dull and overcast. Then the sun shone briefly, but it was just kidding: a little later it poured with rain. Then we returned to dull and overcast. Oh, also I should draw your attention to (if you haven't already come across it) an article about John Ashbery in a recent Guardian. If I had a cat I would stroke it. If the goldfish were still alive I would take them for a swim.

Actually, there is one other link I should do. It's this one.



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