wytchcroft

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

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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.  

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.

 
twit! t'who me? more than likely.

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.
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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.

 stina nordernstam - so lee

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;

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