Wednesday 21st of February, 2001
The CD player (my current oracle of choice) decided that the day should start with 36 Hours by John Cooper Clarke and I Often Dream of Trains by Robyn Hitchcock. So it's one of those Johnny Clarke/Robyn Hitchcock days, eh?
(Incidentally, Snap, Crackle & Bop the album from which 36 Hours comes is excellent, and really worth seeking out - it includes the magnificent Beasley Street and is one of the late Martin Hannett's masterpieces. The original vinyl edition (which I have) had a cover that was JCC'c jacket with a (real) book of his poetry poking out of his top pocket.)
Cheque in post.
Aha! Payday! Let's go and spend it all on exotic cheeses!
Do some ironing - ironing is a deeply spiritual experience, symbolising one little way that we can put the Universe in order. Of course, a pile of ironing the size of a child is hard labour, but ironing a bunch of shirts can be spiritual.
And of course, Hard Labour can be spiritual, too. But when it is, it ceases to be hard. Go figure.
During the ironing, I meditated on how we set our own standards, and how the standards that other people expect us to meet are actually a reflection of those we set for ourself. Which anybody who knows me will know is pretty rich coming from a slob like me. Or perhaps not.
I don't actually get out of the house at all. I do a bit of practise - particularly the right-hand for an as-yet-unnamed instrumental, which I was tripping over, but have realised I should be using the "a" finger as well as the p-i-m fingers. If I do that, it works really well. When I play up to speed, though, it's a pile-up.
Try working on some logos for The Kamel Klub and a potential web-site design. I haven't finished booking it yet. I've got my priorities straight, oh yes.
David H. calls about helping a friend of his with her Mac - a Performa 630,a model I know only too well - and getting it online. This should, technically, be possible. I said I'd have a look in the next few days.
Des calls at about 10:00pm to say that the spot he asked me to do on Friday is, in fact, for the following Friday. No problem.
Eventually I venture outside to get cocoa and yoghurt (the former for pre-bed, the latter for breakfast tomorrow, if you were wondering. Not together.)
Bedtime record: Cry No More by the Poison Girls.