There’s nothing like a an evening snowfall to bring an uneventful boring day to a graceful close. There’s something reassuring about the clumsy flakes silently appearing from the darkness & dancing past your window. It’s as if all the unfinished business of the day has been erased.- A nice new white icing laces the rooftops,-cushioning your drop into slumberland- where like crystal music behind the eyes-the flakes will keep on falling.>That is, until nature calls & you need to get up for a piss.

Weeee! Just discovering this thing called ‘Google Earth’. I’d previously not been able to work it,-but now it works for some reason. Anyway, I must say- I am absolutely amazed! Spent the evening flying around the world. On my travels I zoomed in on the family house in England- could even make out the actual tree I used to climb! Then flew back over the channel to where I am now in Paris- zoomed right down through the skylight window & could see myself infront of the screen typing this!- that last part was bollocks of course- but anyway got a birdseye view of where I live -very impressive. Now, I’m off to check out the tiling on YOUR roofs folks! Up, Up, & away…

Today (Friday) I visited another art exhibition. It was a large exhibition of the works of Pierre Bonnard at the museum of modern art in Paris. Bonnard was one of the more prominent members of the movement of painters known as the ‘nabis’. I don’t know much about him & consequently have never gone out of my way to look at his stuff -so today I enjoyed the colours for what they were- no strings attached. My great aunt Marie-Françoise(from my mother’s side of the family)- known as ‘Mimi’ lives outside Paris in a little house on her own. She is very active for someone of her age & makes a habit of coming into the city regularly to visit exhibitions, go to the theatre or spend an afternoon in one of her favourite tea-rooms. Recently, on such occasions she has taken to calling me-asking me to join her. So we visited this exhibition & then went for the customery cup of tea. She told me of how she had had a brief fling with a painter in the early fifties. Mimi posed for him at the time, she remembered that she was wearing a red dress & scarf for the painting. This painting was sold almost instantly & luckily she had kept a b+w photograph of it. Anyway, many years later- Mimi was on holiday in the south of france with her then husband & they stumbled accross an exhibition of said painter. He did’nt recognise her until she came back to show him the b+w photograph. Apparently he turned white as a sheet. Even if it was years later,-I think it’s wierd that he did’nt recognise her.-After all Mimi has quite distinctive features which I imagine were what inspired him to do her portrait in the first place. Anyway, I had chinese smoked tea with a slice of apple pie caramel type thing.

There’s this girl I keep bumping into. She lives near me so that would explain it somewhat- but there are alot of people around here so why her in particular? It’s wierd. I do know her from the bar I go to sometimes & when we are there we consider each other as ‘friends’- but let’s be honest that word is always used a little too readily in such an environment- no she’s a sort of aquaintance/friend/person I once danced with & stuck my tongue down her throat! yuurch.. I used to fancy her but certain traits of her character remind me of my previous bad experience-so in the interest of self preservation- I decided not to persue it, she’s probably thinking the same anyway. So we keep bumping into each other & smiling sheepishly(never seen a sheep smile, they’re miserable bastards for the most part but anyway..) I have an uncle who is an author, he writes detective stories. His name is Max Obione & he chairs a small publishing company called ‘Krakoen’. When I was a kid I never saw much of him but in the past few years, family ties set aside,-he has become a valuable part of my life. Uncle Max is a very talented & creative person who, when he’s not busy working on his own projects,-is very encouraging & generous towards people persuing their own endeavours. He also writes songs under the name ‘Badspoon’ & I have had great fun trying to put them to music. Max’s next book should be out soon-I don’t know how many this will be, he’s so prolific- I’ve lost count! Some of the song lyrics are not for the faint hearted- if he made a record it would definately come under ‘explicit!’ Anyway below is a pic of the man himself…

Atchoo!Atchoo!Atchoo!….& Atchoo!

Valentine#1: “hey! Why don’t we go to London for valentines day?”

Valentine#2: “Yes! That’s a great idea!”

a year later….

Valentine#1: “hhmm-this time last year I nearly went to London with
that woman”

Valentine#2: “hmmm-this time last year I nearly went to London with that
that man”

“I wonder if she’s thinking about me?”
“I wonder if he’s thinking about me?”

a message to all you plumbers: KISS MY DIMPLED A**e!!

I feel a major argument coming on..The phillipino couple down the hall have moved out. More like driven out if you ask me.-They were planning on finding a bigger place as they were expecting their first child,-but there’s nothing like the mad incessant pestering of self proclaimed figures of ‘authority’ who jump at any oppurtunity to assert themselves,-to precipate a move.-If all else fails for whatever agenda they have -like a dumb animal lashing out -’the powers that be’ will decide that some completely unecessary & expensive work needs doing in the building which will disturb as many people as possible. It always seems to be on our floor for some reason, how convenient,-lots of modest people who can barely speak the language-to sink one’s teeth into. A slight damp patch in one room is grounds to review the whole water evacuation system apparently.That’s bullshit-just as resurfacing the roof every other year is- or getting the aforementioned evacution pipe installed through everyone’s rooms rather than improving the existing one.etc etc.-all this with no warning or respect for the people who actually live here. Of course the plumbers are’nt complaining about these useless undertakings-they can’t believe their luck-more money for them. So lot’s of noise & strange men pacing up & down a cramped corridor-taking their time, drilling holes & doing a really amateur & crap job in the process.-Not an ideal environment for someone who needs peace & rest & the least stress possible.-Anyway, she had a miscarraige. I can’t help making a link there. I’m not exagerating- the disturbance caused by all this was way over the top(& again-unecessary) Like in the film ‘one flew over the cuckoos nest’- there’s a nurse Ratchet behind this that needs a good choking. I’ve overheard that we may be asked to empty our rooms so that the the pipe that should’nt have been there in the first place can be removed.-Of course, as usual we are not told this directly-In any case, I won’t be doing that-you cut the pipe at both ends & leave the rest as it is-plain & simple mate!-no plumbers making money off my back!

Do you like the smell of vanilla?- I do. Do you like sleeping with one leg out & one leg in?- I do. Do you like rasberries?- I do. Do you like snow?- I do. Do you like champagne?- I do. Do you like taking a piss?- I do. Do you like ‘the doors’?- I do. Do you like the sky at night?- I do. Do you like laughing?- I do. Do you like roasted chesnuts?- I do. Do you like blue?- I do. Do you like pink?- I do. Do you like the smell of baked bread?- I do. Do you like making lists of things you like?- I do.

Watching a show, whatever type of show it might be,-I’ve always found it much more gratifying experiencing it from the wings or backstage. I don’t know why this might be,-I could attempt a cheap analysis & say that maybe I am one of life’s great watchers & not doers.-Well if that were the case I would buy my ticket like everybody else and sit on the front row. No, I am a complete attention whore like most of us are to varying degrees. If I’m feeling suitably inspired I’ll grab that limelight, turn it inside out & then go & lie down. I remember being party to the behind the scenes of a few fashion shows at the art school I attended in Paris-which houses an impressive hall with a glass roof-that is rented annually by the fashion elite for whatever spring-summer, autumn-winter collection they are presenting. I saw David Copperfield once with his big hair-& more to the point,-his then girlfriend-Claudia Shiffer(niiice)-Anyway,-the studio space that I had a place in at the time , just happened to be situated to the side of said hall. Along with some fellow students-when we had decided that we had reinvented the world enough for that day in artform!-or more often,-when we were tired of not knowing what the fuck we were doing,-on such occasions we would drift out of the studio into the corridor to a world of oh so important people pecking each other on the cheek & talking on their mobile phones. Like animals caught in a cars headlights we would duck & dive & edge our way to the inevitable buffet or glass of champagne-& then get the hell out of there.-(there are only so many egos you can cram into a room however large and echoey it may be).One time, cowering in the shadows like some spoilt Oliver Twist, I noticed a gap in the door where you could see these supermodels changing,-but hey,-we were blasé-we were so-called artists!(God I wish I had looked a little more closely!)Anyway there was also the odd flash of reality in the wings of such superficiality.-A tall skinny model creature in a corner having a tearful argument with someone on the phone, or some fashion groupy wincing bitterly when someone did’nt recognise them. Fashion is not there to make us think but to dream. I enjoy dreaming,-which is why,had I been in a state to string a sentence together- it would never had occured to me to strike up a conversation with such people,-that would have ruined the vibe. No, just as I had savoured the smell of makeup & dry-ice in past theatrical experiences- here I found the right balance between reality & the realm of dreams- backstage. Someone should start the official ‘backstage party’, -I’d vote for them.-Because people don’t appreciate just how much work goes into such things & more importantly,-when the show is over & everyone’s had their fun & gone home,-there’s always some poor bastard who has to sweep up.(or go home with Claudia Shiffer!)