LV

Louis Vuitton birthday cake, originally uploaded by Slaminsky.

just a heads up. My birthday's in July, btw.

(see in Dalston.)

Swines

"The companies [like GlaxoSmithKlein] will do 'well' out of this" says a cheery pharmaceutical analyst on Radio 4 "so in a way, we need something like this to happen, to keep them doing research into diseases like swine flu..."

There's something diabolical, uniquely 21st century wrong about this, it's just too early for me to think about what it is.

Pastures new

Dalston or Leytonstone?

Can't quite believe I'm on the move again.

New York street art

Stencil, originally uploaded by Slaminsky.

I had a street art fest in New York, the range and variety was pretty mind-blowing. Dragged poor Jan all around SoHo in the pouring rain, with her kindly holding my umbrella while I snapped, visited insalubrious industrial estate type places in Brooklyn, managed to find the galleries in Chelsea on a Monday when they were closed -doh!

It's clear the war of the graffitti writers upon the 'art fags' is just as fierce as it is here. Lots of beautiful wheatpastes had been torn down and defaced. Can't we all just get along...?

Fans of teh street art can view the slideshow on Flickr here. Look out for the Obama wall (which was left untouched.)

Stood up

Oh well, I didn't like you anyway - d'you hear?

Dogtired

Someone asked me recently why I did this, and gave me cause to doubt (again) the wisdom of putting all your personal shit out there on the internet. It's just attention seeking egotistical bollocks. Believe me, I ask myself the same thing.

Then I find myself in a situation like now, & remember why it's a good thing sometimes. Here it is, 3.00 am. lying awake, tired tired tired, but can't sleep, having been woken up AGAIN (by the upstairs neighbours this time), they stomp in after their night out, walk across my bedroom ceiling in what sounds like lead boots, start talking at the top of their voices, bang goes the TV on. I'm too wired to concentrate on a book, nothing on TV, Radio 4 is failing to block out their noise, too late to phone or email anyone to have a moan - I know, I'll spill it all on the blog! Thank god.

Here is the state of play, for anyone who's been following the whole sorry saga: Finally, after I've threatened them with getting lawyers on them, the Housing Association creak into motion and decide to take downstairs neighbour (with the dogs, keep up now) to court and get an injunction against him to remove his dogs. (After 8 months of flannelling me and denying all knowledge, they confessed that it was in fact they themselves who had taken him to court before over noise pollution and taken away his dogs - but after a ban of two years he asked if he could keep dogs in the flat again - and they agreed to let him. !!!)

I don't have to go to court but I have to sign a witness statement. I asked if I could see a draft, which their lawyers are supposedly writing, but that was 3 weeks ago and have had nothing from them.

Meantime, I've put the flat on the market. It's not the best timing in the world, I admit, but I really, truly can't stay here.

A few people have seen the place - apparently the first people liked the flat, but not the block. Good call, I can't fault their judgement. The dogs appear to be gone, but the upstairs neighbours, who I think have recently moved in, are keeping up the proud tradition of being noisy selfish, selfish noisy cunts - why don't I go up and talk to them? To tell the truth, all the fight's gone out of me. It's been a job getting this far, let me tell you. Like Tina Turner, I don't really want to fight no more.

I was trying to turn it into a positive - maybe I could rent the place out, and go back to a house-share, I could save money and maybe even quit my job and go travelling, or retrain for something I find less morally objectionable than teaching in state schools. I don't know what to do in the meantime, keep going around and around in circles. It's amazing how sleep deprivation can fuck up logical thinking.

Be careful what you wish for, people. Good counsel welcome.

the Clement Freud Memorial blogmeet

It's a rainy night in Soho. A man accosts 5 bloggers outside the French House, asking for change. He is, maybe, Scottish, and well refreshed.
'I'll be honest' he says. 'I want a drink.'
Such a good sales pitch, we all give him change.
He insists on kissing the ladies, and leaves.
OyeBilly: 'He's such a liar, I bet he'll buy a cup of tea with that.'

For alternative accounts, click here and here.

Ooh, it's just like Rashomon!

Postcard

Bailout, originally uploaded by Slaminsky.

Having a lovely time. Wish you were here.
x

Fear of flying

I don't like it I don't like it I don't like it. Why am I going on a plane again?
Oh yes, to see Other Places.

See you all in a week. Be good.

Free associating

Jacqui Smith on the Today programme, on signing off her husband's porn rental on parliamentary expenses:

'I wish someone had brought it to my attention earlier...'

Usually John Humphries gets on my nerves, but he's right on it like a lion on a wildebeest. 'YOU signed it off!' he points out, and suggests that it's enough for her to resign. But Jacqui, the very model of a modern politician, would not resign unless she was caught redhanded pistol-whipping the Queen. And the powers that be like her, so she can mess up and mess up with impunity.

Politicians, I don't like them because they only care about politics, not people. It's in their nature, otherwise why would they do this job? (They don't do anything useful, or real, they don't sweep the streets, they don't make anything we need or provide anything entertaining, they just come out of public school then business school and boss everyone else around, without ever having experienced life as it is for most people. )

This lot make the Tories look altruistic and saintly, though. My latest brainwave is that they should be made to ride on buses. Buses keep you in touch with real people.

Here is my latest bus journey -

I'm waiting for the bus in Dalston. It doesn't come, and doesn't come, and eventually there's a little crowd on the pavement. One of the crowd nips through the back doors as they open to let people off. The driver turns off the engine.
'There's a queue! Get off the bus! These people were waiting first!'
'I was waiting with the people! I was!' He refuses to get off, the bus driver refuses to start the engine. It's a Mexican standoff. Everyone on the bus weighs in, some shouting at the man to get off, others shouting at the bus driver to start the bus. Everyone has something to say, and it looks like we could be there for a while. I get off and walk to Stoke Newington.

But I'm glad I did because I got to see Ridley Road market on the way. It's a wonder and a marvel - you can get everything there, every type of fish, 8 apples for £1.00, African fabric, Haile Selassie pictures printed on silk, Ghanaian cornmeal, the bits of a cow that they don't sell in Tesco, hairweaves, cheap shoes... Of course, it's in danger of being closed down by developers, so catch it while you can.

Dinosaurs

I want to go and take photos of the anatomically incorrect dinosaurs in Crystal Palace before they fall to pieces altogether. Have never been to Crystal Palace before. Who's with me?

Dumb and happy, or clever and miserable

Which is better?

Mail Me Art

Goddamit, I wish I'd thought of this. Though I ar not artist, & probably people would not want to send me their art. (But if you ARE, & willing to send me your art, email me immediately!). Also, if you are an artist, you can submit for the second Mail Me Art coming up soon.

Exhibition on in Brixton this very weekend.