Friday, 17 February 2012

artists date with lady leverhulme and arthur

lying in my bath truthfully affirmed by candle and shower gel used
as bubble bath
thinking of being sixty or the hope of seeing faces that have
not been together for a while or even never

although in truth these are latter thoughts perhaps as
what brought me to the page were words describing my bathtime current of music

the maudlin meanderings of murderous minded melancholic morrissey
a stream of daily mail cheer who rebels to the god in god out with the garbage in garbage out
gladioli swinging i'd sooner be famous than righteous or holy
i have two picture books probably both from the now none existent
cheshire oaks bookshop i used to take my kids to before going to the pictures
what was its name?

Ethel and Ernest by Raymond Biggs a true story about wartime and the tree he planted as a pip
and the other now to think of it from brighton we are on our own by miriam katin
a jewsih journal of survival and broken spirit having survived the nazis now she must survive the christians
despite the momentary shift to colour from the grey pencil words with her first bible

oh for the joy of the soap from levers i just decadently historically enjoyed
wouldn't want to sleep in the crowned royal bed i swa there unless they get a thicker mattress
those royals like everyone else did not know comfort unless like bread the plumpiness of the
balm has shrunk to a biscuit the lovelienss of the gallery love letter that it is need something to prevent its pictures from going off the rooms of age are howver cherfully interupted by fresh book art i bought a wonderful childrens book in which letter from a special government department near serenditously to big ben they some to the rescue of a book who does not know his alphabet and the looseness and freedom is like an explosion of joy that if i sit it alongside these other two books is a bit like joni mitchel justy collaborated with janet ah;berg and they both sang in a field of flowers

i will have my little holiday in london

i have a lovely little pop up book that like a seed of a tree unfolds from it samll pop up box thingy to silhouette cuts of building and words and freindliness as friendly as the soap i just exfoliated with leaves making a sort of scrubbing brush side to the soap
oh and hanging in the room is a stickers book of calders work a momentary mobile of mirth to counter the meandering maaudlin steam from my bathtime reverie it is now qurter to 8 a walk along the coast with george
and a moment on the keybaord i have rearranged the room and am empowering myself with lots of hopefulness
on the pump organ now accessible there are some of these books oh so much more spavce now i rearranged the room
today i will wear my stripy jacket from sweden and my baggy chinos that i patched

birds are singing outside beside me is an article i kept in awonderful cakes n menus book by andy warhol the article is by clive andersonfrom the independent extra of oct 2005 when i was still a graphic design illustration lecturer it has a version of marylin monroe and other images include the beckhams he says

we need to get back to a state where fame if we must have it is at least dependent on some kind of achievement

 i will keep meandering myself in this unimportant semi public therapy of creative interface of morning pages jouranl free associative thinks

a childrens book though a hat museum with a collectionof thinkgs bubbles scientifically forensically distilled from the dna and captured moment of these inverted lids on once locatabel heads that like flann obriend third policeman bicycles transfered their thought molicules morrisey called one album a hatful of empty well what if he was wrong and what if by putting on a hat full of thinx bubble you coukld be mr benn

i will get dressed i am comfy by the radiator with my old blue dressing gown that was once new and probably a romantic gift from the pretty girl from across the road who moved twice and nay way twice removed my heartis still a cousin to my life realtivly speaking oh my love my darling i hunger for paris or a good film and to be entertaining and not just to be free as a breeze be near perhaps or at the end of a pen stamp post card heartfelt need to have eyes that see and care as i still feel and see and want to run your bathwater make you a cuppaa

it is all inthis bathrobe i must remove it soon declutter my souls free associative

dress me

take me out

i listen to my artist and i obey

i made him sandwiched with a granary loaf light chicken slices tomatoes freshly ground black pepper
and solved an external harddrive problem foresic pathology of wire and and unplugged extension leads later
and the larger of the mersy moon images spilled onto tis sheet of quality paper.enough i want to go

there he is again the needy artist in me

arthur gee an artist friend like the munnings bull in lady leverhulme
all my yersterday

here to stay
going out to play
i believe just what it used to be and nerwas
empty can of soap

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