Not much to say today - nothing I really want to recall of a Déjà vu day other then an inkling that the beady eye of a black dog has me in sight.
An air of melancholy joined me for dinner so I busied myself by starting "The Giant Book Of Villains"*, though listening to Dory Previn's "Mythical Kings And Iguanas" and a good dose of Van Der Graaf Generator's "H to HE" and "Godbluff", have left me with a wistful nostalgia for my youth.
Looking back is OK I guess but looking forward (to something) is always better I've been told; and though the rational side of me would agree, my present mood could be labelled "fuck off!".
Anyway - thoughts of yesteryear reminded me of this poem and the tingling sensations of togetherness on an Autumnal night that induced me to write it. For Julie Jenkinson, the gentlest of souls
* "The Giant Book Of Villains" by Ian Schott, a Magpie Books paperback (ISBN 1-85487-335-0, 474 pages) from 1994.
A disappointing book if you are a blood and guts voyeur as there are no pictures. This book is chaptered by each "villain" whose history/lifestyle/predilections are recalled with the dryness of a secondary school teacher earning pin-money during a summer break. The editors seem to have recognised this as well, as amongst the texts there are many curious asides, each in a black border and bearing no relevance to the surrounding story. Don't buy this, don't borrow this; and if someone gives you a copy don't read it. Just rip out a page when required in the toilet.
EAUX England LAURENCEAU
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