15 January 2008

No trick pony

The guy who won the T. S. Eliot prize for poetry did something revolutionary like use ‘thus’ twice in a row or whatever. I couldn’t really tell from his reading, but it sounded like he ended one line on ‘thus’ and began the next line with ‘Thus.’ Genius! I hope that one day I too am ‘captured’ by poetry, so long as poetry doesn’t put me in an orange onesie and threaten to forcibly remove my head.

My manager has a new plaything assistant of sorts, which takes the pressure off me quite a bit. Well, it alleviates his specific brand of pressure anyway. Now I am beholden to none, responsible for all, blah blah blahdiblah. I’m on lunch now, obviously.

A friend of ours signed us all up for this. It is a free photographic treasure hunt, which somehow relates to a film festival and, distantly, celebrity spotting. We’re to bring an idea and a prop of some kind, so my idea is to take photos. My prop will be Bruce’s camera, as it’s served me well in all sorts of sticky photo-taking situations.

I have a new flickr, by the way – a joint flickr account with Bruce. We decided we’d only add people we know in real life, which cut down our collective contact lists by quite a number.

It’s only so that my mother can find us and then not feel horrified when I post photos of her. If you want the link, though, I can send it to you. YES YOU. I have no idea who I’m talking to, by the way, but if there’s a You reading this, then I guess it’s you.


What-a-would-you-like-a-to-know-about-a-my-life? I will describe things annoyingly in a poor Bulgarian accent. Though it’s down to you, what you want to hear about first.

For now, I will make up a poem on the spot, to celebrate someone-or-other winning the T. S. Eliot prize for poetry:

Giddy Up

OH how I met with the Director
I didn’t hear a word he said
I was trying to read email
Email pop-ups that kept
Popping-up on my screen
Sorry, I’ve gotta get that thing fixed

OH how I’d love to dump this job on its ass
Except that jobs don’t have asses
Asses are for people
Who need something to sit on
Lily Allen wrote a song
About her bum-bum
It wasn’t very good or funny
Because artists are one-trick ponies


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