wytchcroft: nick drake (amp)
strains my eyes
hurts my ears
- stop that!
prattfalling
name calling
drunken fool
dreaming some vast besotted sodden ego
cryptic kicks tapping their rhythm
a French tango
only the French don't tango
yodelling hoarse voiced
horse shit
full of wine
feels fine
soaked in brine
in photo-chemical
black & white
like City Lights

Read more... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (oh f-op!)


the rules are simple -
basic game: get the nights below 8 hrs sleep in sequence; either consecutive nights or matching (mon / mon/ mon/ etc. for example)!

advanced game: get the hours in sequence too!
e.g. 4,4,4,4,4 or 2,2,2,2 or 2,3,4,5 etc.

join the whacky fun! sign up today - i mean tonight! i mean - oh whatever timezone craziness suits you best!


remember: you winsomnia lose some!
wytchcroft: heavent sent (magic)
ok, so i'm not superstitious - really not... well, except for one slight and completely irrational phobia.

which, in the here and now, means that when

  ...after another night without sleep but (so i was beginning to believe) 
productive nonetheless since it produced a great mass of words for my current scribbling project
and, despite my minor injuries, (i fell off a hill) feeling the reckless burst of a second wind
(or maybe just the coffee finally kicking in)...  

i swagger into the kitchen and yank back the curtains to say "hello world!"
and find a great guffawing and very much SINGLE magpie dancing on the grass outside.-
i wish for a pistol, reach for the curtains and fight the very, very strong urge to give up and go back to bed.

Bastard, BASTARD birds.  
wytchcroft: lennon is smoking (j.o.l.)

"Duvet?"
"Crochê!"
"Touché!"
"Scaramouche?"
"Can you do the fandango?"

For the love of all that's holey Blackburn someone remind me tomorrow to do this to my PC
and quit faffing about when there's other stuff needs doing!

oh well, yeah... not IMPORTANT stuff maybe, I'll grant you, not in the grand scheme of things...
so much as -

*puts head finally through monitor*
wytchcroft: heavent sent (aleen)
I for an eye and they're both wide open
neck sore from staring through the ceiling
sleep would be cool fingered
only sleep has gone
muttered something about a trial separation
never even slammed the door
i can't remember now what we argued about
and i know i don't snore.


wytchcroft: heavent sent (view)
is not welcomed by sleep deprived half-crazed insomniacs like me.
sigh. 
wytchcroft: heavent sent (peter cushing)
 
twit! t'who me? more than likely.

a.m.

Mar. 23rd, 2009 06:36 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (kv)
wild singing - she's insomnia's Angel
the wind in my electrical cable
the milk as it spills on the table
from my nerve clumsy hands
in the morning.

 
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)
More insomnia, more Rolling Stones, more much maligned Goats Head Soup and standing with a slack guitar in one hand and a cigarette in the other with my back to the speaker - can you hear the music? - and letting the heat build humid like the thick scented air from Montserrat - "We got a nice view of the sea didn't we?" glancing up from the grand piano.
"Yeah we did."
And the sun beating through the curtains, another sunny afternoon for the boys - this is a playground after all, just ask the war weary women peering through the yellow haze. "I think - I don't think - but I was - there, I think…" Amnesia as self defence - invisibility cuts both ways. Revenge comes from the ones already exiled – Marianne Faithfull who will make more important records than the Stones a few years down the line. Invisibility cuts.
Read more... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (sol smokes)

some people call sleep 'the little death'.
i don't think sleep gives a damn.   
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

This has been hilariously parodied by the Smack The Pony crew on UK TV - but it's still genius...
and perfectly suits the wierd mish mash of music i'm listening to (Cat People soundtrack & a ton of french-canadian stuff). Anyway - i love it. 
Dance patterns - Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker.
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

Thomas Feiner & Anywhen:
The Siren Songs
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

Actually i don't smoke camels - not since they changed from being turkish tobacco some time in the 80s - i smoke gitanes as it goes. And of course when i say Europe - i mean, LimeyLand... and when i say LimeyLand i mean of course, my house... and when i say 20 - let's start again shall we.

My house on 2.5 bootlegs a night.
That's... closer.

Always been a fan of that funky furry fuzzed up period of the Stones which was roughly 1969 - 75,
though muzo geeks will argue over that (zzz).

But anyone with hip joints, a groin, or insomnia (!) will know what i mean.

Great chewy tunes with a widescreen splash writing movies in the mind - from the sahara voodoo of 'Can you hear the music' 
to the chilly hands in army-jacket pockets romance (across 110th street) that is  'Till the next time we say goodbye'
and on through the insane oxyacetylene white fire that is 'All down the line'.
Yeah -it's all heady stuff.

Back from the daze when William S. Burroughs thought Mick Jagger was gonna make the audience shake clean out of their skins and Patti Smith wanted nothing more than to wear a Keith Richards T-shirt and flirt with the Ramones.

Bam - good hits flaring up with the dawn like the sun off a pair of dirty shades, the reflective silver scratched and dripping like cheap lipstick.

And now it's morning already..
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)


Internet Jet lag - aka Net lag

 

This can happen – especially if (like me) you are a natural insomniac already.

 

The upside to realizing that you have sent your own body clock to another timezone

 

(apart from the fun you can have actually messing with time itself)

 

is feeling like you have travelled and visited ACTUAL PLACES (ooh!).

 

So, par example;

Read More... )
 

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wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)
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