BLOG.!

Great films watched recently and thoughts...
Y Tu Mama Tambien
Deer Hunter
Taking Liberties

Thoughts:
Bravery
Cowardice
Men
Women
Heroism
Suicide
Life
Living
Dying
Knowing transience

LOVE

Eastern Promises

Finally saw EP! Wow! Simon and I had the theatre to ourselves- this doesn't serve as comment on the movie just on Blackbloodyburn on a Friday at ten to six!!!
The movie is fab. All the actors turn in superb performances- we both really rated Aleksandar Mikic- he was really unnerving and the nuances of his performance (I truly believe) are Oscar worthy.
Viggo is amazing in this. So subtle.. the sort of subtelty that you only realise ten mins after leaving... suddenly you are seeing his face and his expressions and dark hooded eyes and you realise that you hadn't noticed that during the film you are actually thinking as though you are a part of it all thinking- what's he thinking- how's he interpreting that? As though you are there in the room and looking at his character and wondering which side to take by the way he reacts. It is so like real life- the way we look at each other and wonder how even people we're close to are reacting to a situation. Viggo is absolutely marvelous in this- and having just watched "The Reflceting Skin" for the first time recently (1990) it makes you realise how Viggo has really honed his own style and craft over the years! I believe Naomi Watts said that Viggo's performance makes the watching of movie worthwhile in and of itself. I agree! Though V Cassell and Aleksander Mikic and Sinead Cusack and of course Naomi herself are all abolutely tremendous.
This movie will be a slow burner.. I think people will see it; eat their burger afterwards and then only realise it's impact when they sleep and the film and characters and darkness and light creep into their dreams. Top Notch! 10/10

---

On a personal note..... Go Viggo! You are incredible and I think you will be overlooked at the awards and I think you will care not one jot- but one day my friend ("my friend" I wish) you will be acclaimed for your lifetime works and achievements- like buggarall it will matter to you or the way you work.. though as a fan I would personally like to see that moment when they all stand and take a bow in your direction. xxxxxx

Happy Birthday Viggo

Hope he gets lots of lovin' licks and kisses on his birthday.

Just about love and hoping it exists truly between two people I mention here often...

Oh my Love by John Lennon

Oh my love for the first time in my life,
My eyes are wide open.
Oh my love for the first time in my life,
My eyes can see.

I see the wind,
Oh, I see the trees.
Every thing is clear in my heart.
I see the clouds,
Oh, I see the sky.

Everything is clear in our world.
Oh my love for the first time in my life,
My mind is wide open.
Oh my lover for the first time in my life,
My mind can feel.

I feel the sorrow,
Oh, I feel dreams.
Everything is clear in my heart.
I feel life,Oh, I feel love.
Everything is clear in our world.

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect

Orlando Bloom is being slammed everywhere at the moment. Why? Well it seems the paps were all over him the other night in LA. Those vultures had stories of him going to one spot and then another, what he drank, with whom he spoke (that's clumsy but it was to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition; something you should never end a sentence with.) who the bloody DJ was etc etc yawn yawn.
Next thing they have video of him coming out, getting into a kaffuffle (no violence) and then driving off... and THEN low and behold they are right at the scene filming the immediate aftermath of a car crash. (note: they don't have footage of the crash itself) This maybe because it's hard to film such a thing when you're busy cutting someone up and causing them to swerve into a parked vehicle injuring their passengers!
Agh! whatever! The points of note to me are- yet again the paps are sooo eyes on the prize that they are forgetting basic rules of the road and causing their quarry to forget basic rules of the road. Evil! Then I though - hang on I'm here watching all this on a bloody X17 pap video!! There's this poor lady lying in the road with blood on her and clearly terrified and messed up awaiting the ambulance and anothe lady who's scared and anxious and Orlando (who by the way has been videoed walking away from the crash, pulling a hoody up) who's also distressed by it all. All the while the film footage goes into negative when an almighty flash light goes off!
Why am I watching this even? Why was it filmed! Why weren't more people helping.
All Orlando's key fansites are up in arms calling him for waling off.. I'm bemused.. Can't any one stay loyal?Yep he's walking away for sure! BUT there's a lot of reasons why someone may behave like that- not least shock! Of course everyone is waiting to hear whether he was completely wankered on drink and drugs. Maybe he had a % over the odds and panicked.. but police say not. Leave him alone people who don't care! And people who do- stand by him then!
Jeez louise..

And THEN I remembered that just before "In Celebration" opened in London over in Viggo land (at PP) Viggo posted Shakespeare's Sonnet 70. NOT FOR A SECOND LINKING THE TWO THINGS HERE.

But I thought- hmmm actually that's a beautiful piece and I feel so apt for now...

So today (sorry Will and sorry Vig - for nicking your choice of post)

Sonnet 70- William Shakespeare

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
So thou be good, slander doth but approve
Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time;
For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.
Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days,
Either not assail'd or victor being charged;
Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
To tie up envy evermore enlarged:
If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.

Let's take a second here to relate the happenings to Lady Diana. Paps.. I guess there's a job to do! We all want to look at the glitzy, the famous. They give us something bright and shiny to gaze on. No one (unless they are sick) wants to see a woman dying in the back seat of a road smash. Thanks be.. that noone was ultimately seriously hurt in Mr Bloom's accident- but..................... who needs another Diana scenario?
Remember these are real people.. not acting a part... living a horrible incident in their lives and it has been recorded and is available all over the globe NOW!
I need to go away and review my own feelings about even looking at something like this. It's irresponsible for me as an individual. Like my choice to smoke- but.. ah!
You know what I mean...

Hello Again..

http://www.aleladiane.com/menu.html
Check out Alela Diane. A fanatastic American Indian folk singer.. She's beautiful and incredible. I cannot recommend her enough. And if you like her... check out her pal Mary Sioux !

Anyways.. how are you all.... hahahahaha (I'm fine thanks, Love Me!)

Does anyone come about here ever? Why not drop in a comment and say Hi?

So what's been happenin'?

Can't wait to see Viggo et al in Eastern Promises. Never managed a trip to London to see Orlando B in "In Celebration" }:-(

Reading "Half a Yellow Sun" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
About the Biafran/Nigerian wars of late 60s /early 70s through the eyes of one half of a pair of twin sisters, the lover of the other sister and a servant boy. Superb novel. I work with a heap of Nigerian kids and it was fascinating to read a bit more about that country. (btw: heap isn't necessarily the collective noun for Nigerian kids! If I had to choose one though it would be "A smile of..")

I also loved Poisonwood Bible -Barbara Kingsolver (about American Missionary Family in Belgian Congo in 50s/60s)

Been thinking about Dad a lot and feeling alternatively depressed, high, crazy and angry. Coming out of it a bit now- which is a relief (for all around me; if not myself)

POEM? Two I think - as it's been so long since my last post..


Let Me Die a Youngman's Death

Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

By Roger McGough


AND.....

A favourite for the ladies....


Warning - When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

By Jenny Joseph



IRONICALLY: Currently listening to The Who "Teenage Wasteland" Go go go go..... spin and turn and dance dance dance....

Til next time ya'll (Me!)

In memory of my dad

I am posting this because last Sunday would have been Dad's 63rd birthday. He died three years ago (on Sept 1st) I loved him very very much and miss him horribly always, especially on the birthday we shared.

This poem may look difficult at first but just read it out loud; it flows so naturally. I love the feeling of this poem.

______________________________

my father moved through dooms of love

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)

under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
--i say though hate were why men breathe--
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

e.e.cummings

Holidays and general ramblings

Off to Oxford at the weekend to see family and chill for a couple of days. Then heading to The Gower Penninsula for some rock pooling, hiking, surfing and camping action. I just keep fantasising about catching fish and BBQing them on the beach!
Then heading to The Green Man Festival at Glanusk Park in Brecon Beacons. Looking forward to seeing Joanna Newson amongst others.
I was hoping to get into London on Saturday to see In Celebration but I just can't abandon the family having travelled down there to specifically see them. Sorry Orlando! To be honest I reckon a Saturday afternoon matinee will be packed with squealers though and I would just feel embarrassed and probably irritated.
Viggo is due to be awarded the Golden Boot on Saturday (can't help but feel that sounds less than complimentary) I'm pleased for him.
There's also news of him possibly attending the San Sebastien Film Festival with David C in September and possibly Danish Film Festival. Not to mention TIFF in September and London in October... So lots of Vig spotting opps up and coming (Always a good thing)
I am really looking forward to seeing EP and especially can't wait to "Good" - there are some pics over at Viggo-Works (including Viggo in Nazi Officers' get up- which gives you pause) I imagine this will be a fascinating piece of work. Wonder when it's slated for release?
Anyway.. I'll be back on 21st Aug and hopefully there'll be some news about Orlando's future projects (lately he's been linked to Angels and Demons and Pompeii- who knows though) and hopefully some pics of Vig receiving his golden boot!

Karen Dalton- Something on your mind! Beautiful song/poem

Yesterday anyway you made it was just fine,
So you turned your days into night-time,
Didn’t you know, you can’t make it without ever even trying?
And something’s on your mind, isn’t it

Let these times show you that you’re breaking up the lines,
Leaving all your dreams too far behind,
Didn’t you see, you can’t make it without ever even trying?
And something’s on your mind.

Maybe another day you’ll want to feel another way,
you can’t stop crying,
You haven’t got a thing to say,
Feel you want to run away
There’s no use trying, anyway.

I’ve seen the writing on the wall,
Who cannot maintain will always fall,
Well, you know, you can’t make it without ever even trying.

And something’s on your mind, isn’t it
Tell the truth now, isn’t it
And something’s on your mind, isn’t it


This is a fantastic song- and if you can get the Karen Dalton versh- amazing!
I play it and play and playit in my car- louder and louder to cover my increasingly confident - yet ultimately still outta tune singing!
For some reason I find this song so heart breaking so compassionate and beautiful.

I know noone visits my boring little blog....
BUT if you DO happen by....

Check K Dalton out- this song at least!!!

Today's Poem- Church Going- Philip Larkin

Church Going


Once I am sure there's nothing going on I step inside,
letting the door thud shut.
Another church: matting, seats, and stone,
And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut
For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff
Up at the holy end; the small neat organ;
And a tense, musty, unignorable silence,
Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off
My cycle-clips in awkward reverence,
Move forward, run my hand around the font.
From where I stand, the roof looks almost new-
Cleaned or restored? Someone would know: I don't.
Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few
Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce
"Here endeth" much more loudly than I'd meant.
The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door
I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,
Reflect the place was not worth stopping for.

Yet stop I did: in fact I often do,
And always end much at a loss like this,
Wondering what to look for; wondering, too,
When churches fall completely out of use
What we shall turn them into, if we shall keep
A few cathedrals chronically on show,
Their parchment, plate, and pyx in locked cases,
And let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep.
Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?

Or, after dark, will dubious women come
To make their children touch a particular stone;
Pick simples for a cancer; or on some
Advised night see walking a dead one?
Power of some sort or other will go on
In games, in riddles, seemingly at random;
But superstition, like belief, must die,
And what remains when disbelief has gone?
Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky,

A shape less recognizable each week,
A purpose more obscure. I wonder who
Will be the last, the very last, to seek
This place for what it was; one of the crew
That tap and jot and know what rood-lofts were?
Some ruin-bibber, randy for antique,
Or Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff
Of gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh?
Or will he be my representative,

Bored, uninformed, knowing the ghostly silt
Dispersed, yet tending to this cross of ground
Through suburb scrub because it held unspilt
So long and equably what since is found
Only in separation ?marriage, and birth,
And death, and thoughts of these ?for whom was built
This special shell? For, though I've no idea
What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth,
It pleases me to stand in silence here;

A serious house on serious earth it is,
In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,
Are recognised, and robed as destinies.
And that much never can be obsolete,
Since someone will forever be surprising
A hunger in himself to be more serious,
And gravitating with it to this ground,
Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,
If only that so many dead lie round


Philip Larkin

'Fari Park

Went with my amazing 4 year old neice to the ' Fari Park saw amongst other amazing aminals some Wobblies (small Kangaroos) from Australia- where John and Sarah bit not Marcie (the dog) went!)

Too cute! BUT I find it amazing how absolutley excited Your Truly was about the whole experience.. Ultimately don't take your ababies to the Safari Park- wait til thy're about 20 and then have a family day out! I never realised when 5 years old how bloody mad, crazy and beautiful were elephants, rhinos, baboons, girraphs.... Mad creatures mad crazy daliesque creatures which share the planet and rely on us (funny looking naked apes) to save it for them!

Poem for today

Lost Love

HIS eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the startled spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
Across two counties he can hear
And catch your words before you speak.
The woodlouse or the maggot's weak
Clamour rings in his sad ear,
And noise so slight it would surpass
Credence--drinking sound of grass,
Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth
Chumbling holes in cloth;
The groan of ants who undertake
Gigantic loads for honour's sake
(Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin);
Whir of spiders when they spin,
And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs
Of idle grubs and flies.
This man is quickened so with grief,
He wanders god-like or like thief
Inside and out, below, above,
Without relief seeking lost love.

-Robert Graves

Liv Tyler...

...is absolutely the most honestly, unaffectedly, beautiful film actress I ever saw. I just think she's the bees knees.

I want to post a pic- but realise I haven't got one of the lovely!
Here's one of her just randomly bumping into Orlando in London...

You had to go and be nice to Al Gore..

... and now we're in trouble!"
From South Park
My Gods South Park is f**king hilarious. They are soooo clever on so many levels. My other keeps downloading episodes not previously shown on UK TV. By Gods they are genius..things about freedom of speach; paedophilia; terrorism; global warming. They are genius- did I say that already.
Meanwhile in life... school finished; I got wrecked- idjit!! Seems okay though- noone has killed me yet!
Will come back with more when I find time..... jeez time! When will I find time (This may be my last post ever .. )
Pah!

Perceval Press.. poetry posts

A quick mention and heads up to old VM at PP..
Thanks Vig for some lovely poetry posts of late! Go see all.. I have a link from this blog to PP (for the uninitiated)
Shakespeare's 70th Sonnet.. particularly beautiful! Also I love Charles Bukowski's "Be Kind".

If senor (meaning mainly Mortensen, but Bukowski also) doesn't begrude it, I have pasted the latter..

Be Kind

we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter
howout-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.

one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.

but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.

not their fault?

whose fault?
mine?

I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.

age is no crime

but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life

among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives

is.

-Charles Bukowski

Sorry Sir; I just loved this today of all days..
I had a particularly unpleasant experience with a colleage and came home in tears over his cruelty and lack of compassion.
As I drove out of the school ground I swore every bad word I ever heard or could ever make up; I cursed him.
I ran into some tourists; an old couple feeding the wildfowl stale bread... they had created a puddle of ducks and geese and their various young all across the lane!
I guess on viewing the ugly one amongst these "ducklings" hahaha - I guess... old Hans Christian Andersen sprang to mind. I smiled and the tears dried and I remembered how this guy who was so obnoxious had lost his dad 3 weeks ago.
I tried to "be kind"
I also tried to "be kind" to the old couple who had interupted my
mad-driving-jimihendrixplaying- swearing fury by inviting wildfowl to flood my path following their enticing left over "Mothers' Pride" yeasty bread leavings.
It wasn't until about 10 minutes after arriving home, dried up on husband's shoulder that I read the poem left at PP and thought ....
Be Kind!

Review of the Elmet Festival...

Went yesterday to Mytholmroyd (that's the actual name of a village in Upper Calder valley!) AND the village where one of my all time heroes (and favourite poet) Ted Hughes was born and raised for the first 6/7 years of his life.

We went for lunch at Hebden Bridge (which is a surprisingly artsy little town) and then on to Mythomroyd for a talk by the brilliant Simon Armitage (described, probably rather emabarrassingly for him, as the Poet Laureate in waiting) Simon grew up in a village not far from Ted's birthplace and became enamoured with Poetry through reading Ted Hughes. He spent the first half of the talk describing how important the Upper Calder Valley was throughout Ted's life; despite the fact that Ted left the area as a boy. Rather than read poems by Ted, he played poems read by Ted himself on a CD player; having first described where in the valley they were set and why. You really need to hear Ted Hughes read his own poetry to get the true rhythm and sense and feeling and darkness of his work. * ideally you need to hear every poet read their own work!

The second half of the talk was Simon reading his own poems but reading those which showed the link between him and Ted.

Simon was extremely funny, his poems evocative and his thoughts inspiring. He decsribed the following poem much as he descibes it at Poetry Archive, I include a link to it here...
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoet.do?poetId=87#

This one reminded me of Stevie Smith's "Not Waving Drowning" It is funny to start but ultimately very moving. Like when you start laughing and then hear the tragedy and it takes a moment for the emotional gears to shift and that awful sort of gap as all the air sucks out and leaves a vacuum, for just a long second before the wave of deep sadness breaks over you. It more often happens the other way around where you deal with the tragedy first and then find some relief when inexplicably it all turns to laughter. Sometimes I have experienced the first scenario immediately after the second- so it comes full circle.
Anyway- I loved this poem.

After the talk we had the great priviledge to be taken on a tour by Mr David Crossley; a gentlemen who knew Ted as a boy and has enjoyed an on going friendship with the Hughes family, even after Ted's death 9 years ago.

Unfortunately the tour was considerably shortened by the need for some of the kids to get back for a detention! (ugh!) This old gent took us to Ted's birth place and then to the canal where they fished for loach and Ted's life long love of fishing began. Mr Crossly read Ted's poems - the ones that related directly to their shared memories of growing up in this gushing ancient bleak living valley, surrounded by "dark satanic mills" and glowering moors.

He showed photographs of the views from where we stood, just as those views looked in 1930s. His enthusiasm, born out of nostalgia and empathy for Ted's words was palpable. He was a living oral history, standing on a greasy green moss spot on the old quarry slabbed walk way under a bridge over a dark muddy canal reading "The Canal's Drowning Black" and pointing at a newish old folks' sheltered housing block when he read the line "Mount Zion's Cowled, Satantic majesty behind me..." This having shown us a black and white blurred photo of Mount Zion - a huge methodist chapel stained black with industrial smog (circa 1938)

Having been into Ted's home and seen where this chapel stood you understand how this austere place of puritanical worship blocked out all light from the Hughes home and was an immence ominous black wall.

I feel kind of saddened and delighted by meeting Mr Crossley. A simple and honest man who again and again pointed out that he "whar nor scholerrr!" He was living the poetry purely and honestly and emotionally and not pretentiously - he was inspirational. I was saddened because the old chap must be mid seventies and whilst fit as fiddle - will not be around forever to share this absolutely vibrant and living history for all. Of course if "he whar a scholerrr" he'd have written a thesis and made countless documentaries etc.. as it happens he is just an enthusiastic old chap, who not olnly knew and loved Ted as a boy and grew to respect and understamd his work on a very personal level in age, but also has an immense understanding of social history in a part and time of England now long long gone. I wish we could capture old Donald Crossley's stories forever on film or recorded sound.

Oral history me lovelies... go out and tape you granddad and nana now---today! Keep a journal and blog even. Take pictures, write poems and then take pictures again because all too soon we'll be history too.

By Ted Hughes...

The Canal's Drowning Black

Bred wild leopards - among the pale depth fungus.
Loach. Torpid, ginger-bearded, secret
Prehistory of the canal's masonry,
With little cupid mouths.

Five inches huge!
On the slime-brink,over bridge reflections,
I teetered. Then a ringing, skull-jolt stamp
And their beards flowered sudden anemones

All down the sunken cliff. A mad-house thrill-
The stonework's tiny eyes, two feet, three feet,
Four feet down through my reflection
Watched for my next move.

Their schooldays were over.
Peeping man was no part of their knowledge.
So when a monkey god, a Martian
Tickled their underchins with his net rim

They snaked out and over the net rim easy
Back into the oligocene -
Only restrained by a mesh of kitchen curtain.
Then flopped out of their ocean-shifting aeons

Into a two-pound jam-jar
On a windowsill
Blackened with acid rain fall-out
From Manchester's rotten lung.

Next morning, Mount Zion's
Cowled, Satanic majecty behind me
I lobbed-one by one-high through the air
The stiff, pouting, failed, plaed moons

Back into their Paradise and mine.

:::::::::::::::::::

Glastonbury

Not going this year. It opens the doors today and to mark that event I have been watching Julien Temple's film "Galstonbury". It puts me right there and really makes me regret not actually going this year. the festival has for certain become more corporate but is still a place to find yourself or rather lose yourself and look inwards.

This year for the first time I'm going to the "Green Man" festival in Brecon Beacons. Looking forward to seeing Joanna Newsom and Robert Plant (interestingly enough)

Was talking (I think here!) the other day about my obsessions with the numbers 2 and 5 and onward and then came across a little vid of Viggo talking numerology with Georg Gudni.... it';s here:
http://researchgruppen.com/pagelist/ViggoMortensenGeorgGudni/tabid/78/Default.aspx

Hmmm..

(Apologies to TVC for accidently posting there instead of her! duh! I' an idjit!!)
Lo/ve Jo xxxxxx

Off to worship Ted Hughes...

Off to Hebden Bridge on Sunday to enjoy a talk on Ted Hughes and a walk around his old haunts..
http://www.mytholmroyd.net/

I think we're starting with a pub lunch (always welcome) then...

Sunday 24th June 2.30pm LRC, Calder High School, Brier Hey Lane, Mytholmroyd.
The Elmet Trust and Calder High School English Department present:
Simon Armitage
Tickets £9 and £6 conc.

PLUS - Walks with John Billingsley and Donald Crossley; poetry slam cafe with Ben Allinson and other events: see local press for details.

Can't wait...

Viggorli

So what's happening to Viggorli?
Man- oh- Man! No one is watching me here are they? That's fine actually; means I can drink and type without guilt!
It's all becoming lost and hidden and paranoid. Why?
My love of V/O started moons ago and I've kept fairly silent and cool; I've watched people fall apart and lose friends over this idiosy. It's so pointless! It's only diversion anyway.
They're actors; that's the only reason we even focus on them- if we see/recognise/believe in love between them- then we need to be very realistic about the unrealism of the whole thing.
I am totally knackered by the secrecy and the lies and the paranoia over something JUST NOT THAT ESSENTIAL (except to the two people involved maybe) For all the others of us- it is just a diversion- and we can give the power of our love and our compassion and whether we find that it's directed at a true thing or an imagining that soothes our own souls' because it is a vision of what love could be... it doesn't warrant falling outs and war!
But in its silly little unimportant way, Viggorli shows us what happens on the greater scale of mankind! All believe and yet ultimately part ways over points of their belief and knowledege/supposed knowledge/hearsay knowledge of any given truth.
Yuech! All I wanted was to find a place to enjoy the careers of a couple of fine actors and seemingly great souls and their potential love for one another. That in itself is sooooo delusional- BUT at least I know that!
I am here for fun- a diversion ! I would prefer to get some escape from day to day by focussing on lO/Ve than wasting my wasted time with hate!
lO/Ve; love love love love.... forever love!

Monty Python's Completely Useless Web Site

Monty Python's Completely Useless Web Site

You see I wanted to just add a sound thingumy..

Ah well..

"yes and you should give us all a good spanking!"
"And after the spanking... the oral sex!"
" Maybe I couls stay for a bit"

I really think Orlando would make a great Eric or Michael in the film biog of Monty Python!

HELP! Virgin Blogger WLTM Pro Blogger with GSOH for fun and possibly serious HTML talk serious relationship... :-P

I am sooo new to this and I find that I have linked to a few cool sites in a side bar: at least I hoped I had done this! BUT it doesn't show up! Can anyone of the 70 people who have viewed my profile please come and comment and let me know in English (non techy) what I have done wrong?
Thanks lovies..
Anfreya xxxxx
PS: I always kiss in twos and fives... I have this number superstition thang happening.. 2 or 5 or 12 or 15 or 22 or 25 or and get this 52, 55.. I've never loved anyone enough to leave more than that; so don't know what would happen next!!!!
PPS: If you can leave a comment about what the hell is wrong with me psychologically too that would win you the next appropriate number of kisses up... Ta La xx

Viggo's generous nature..

This is a link to someone's MySpace- where the guy is writing his review of Budapest and inadvertently having a dinner paid for by Viggo.

http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=30923730&blogID=275413005

It sounds pretty true to me. What d'you think?

What a sweet thing to do. It has a karmic quality to it in a way; if he pays for this guys dinner good karma will come back at him in the form of SL winning their game (which they did)

Miss J Hunter Dunn herself?

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=1537
try this out...

And now a favourite.
Very English - I think this sums up how it is to be English...

A Subaltern's Love Song- Sir John Betjaman

Miss J.Hunter Dunn, Miss J.Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!

Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won,
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.

Her father's euonymus shines as we walk,
And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk,
And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.

The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I.

On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts,
And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
And westering, questioning settles the sun,
On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.

The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
And there on the landing's the light on your hair.

By roads "not adopted", by woodlanded ways,
She drove to the club in the late summer haze,
Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
I can hear from the car park the dance has begun,
Oh! Surrey twilight! importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand!

Around us are Rovers and Austins afar,
Above us the intimate roof of the car,
And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice.

And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead.
We sat in the car park till twenty to one
And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.

And so it begins....

"The time has come," the Walrus said,"To talk of many things:Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--Of cabbages--and kings--And why the sea is boiling hot--And whether pigs have wings."

I've been prominent in places and hidden in places for the longest of times. Now is the time to come out; to speak of the things, share of the things that interest me. I want to lead where before I have followed.

I intend to take note of the wonderful Perceval Press; which frustrates me because it's one way. Yet I love poetry too- I want to share my twopen'orth . This will include my favourite poetry, pubs, films, ales and of course will include my thoughts about Vig/Orlando.

You can comment. You can watch. I don't care particularly. I just want to be myself for a bit.