This Weekend.
Is the Meadow Mill Launch Weekend.
Meadow Mill holds the Dundee Wasps Studios. Over the last few months they’ve been renovating (making it warm) and are now ready to show it off to all those who don’t usually see it. All sorts of things are happening across the weekend but I think Saturday night will be particularly good with music and lots of exciting things to see. Plus, BONANZA, she foolishly asked if I would be her asked artist for the ‘Wasps Artists Ask’ part of the occasion. I’m no artist, but I found something. This is a snippet. It looks lovely in its new house.
You can buy.
Special Jubilee-edition tins of Spaghetti (Pissghetti).
They look like regular tins of Spaghetti (Pissghetti). Only muted. A wee bit less vibrant. More refined. And the text says “Cooked Spaghetti” (Cooked Pissghetti). I don’t understand that part.
I very much like the idea of a collector of royal-occasion related tinned memorabilia. I might become one. I shall form totems of tins. Totems of tins celebrating the monarchy. They shall delight all who see them. And clearly specify their cooked status.
My future is now clear.
All is well.
Oh Daisy.
I read The Great Gatsby at school when I was 15.
They nominated me most suited to the wearing of a flapper dress.
It taught me the term ‘pseudo-intellectual’, which I though was wonderful.
One of my favourites.
Intrigued.
I would like to be.
Head down.
Watching my bare toes dance to this.
Lost.
You can be wherever you want to be.
I’m not going to bed.
Until I’ve laminated every single strand of grass.
300?!
That’s excessive.
This seagull stare
That I did share.
Had me fearful
For just a minute
There.
A sordid man.
Was smearing sausagey lather in a girl’s hair.
How to build an owl.
1. Decide you must.
2. Develop deep respect for feather, bone, claw.
3. Place your trembling thumb where the heart will be: for one hundred hours watch so you will know where to put the first feather.
4. Stay awake forever. When the bird takes shape gently pry open its beak and whisper into it: mouse.
5. Let it go.
Kathleen Lynch.
Oh so so wonderful.
I’ve been trying mighty hard to get this stuck in my head. Apparently it’s easier to lodge your own words in that place.
Witches.
He said he saw two witches. On the same day that I saw two witches. But no more sightings. Disappeared. Curious. I suspect they knew we were on to them. I suspect they’ve gone into hiding. Perhaps they’re scared of mice. I’m not scared of mice. But I was (am) scared of The Witches. PG my foot. Terrifying. Yet quite, quite wonderful. (Cats are bad news).
