no folds

First Person Singular

barry — Mon, 16 May 2011 00:24:13 +0000

Sunday. Maybe Monday. It depends on how you look at it but that’s where I am. Sunday . Or Monday. Work – pictures are made , water drunk – nothing more interesting , and music has been listened to. Why not mention some of the music played this weekend ?

I have amused and confused friends by raving about Polly Harvey this week. Confused them by referring to her in conversation as Polly rather than PJ . Whose Polly Barry ? From Compton ? I’ll google her . If anybody has played Dry or Rid of Me this weekend I’d like to meet them. Astonishing artworks that have new truths and imaginative twists with an old art form that sound totally present and worthwhile . And even better memorable as performances with some very fine playing through out both on guitars and percussion. Should it surprise me that a West Country Girl can take an old artform and bend it perfectly to her own time and experience ? Probably not.

There is so much more to do in these little electric spaces . I really do hope that this is an important start to the summer.

Englands Guttering Candle

barry — Sun, 15 May 2011 23:43:54 +0000

Even Later than Camouflage

barry — Sun, 15 May 2011 15:55:17 +0000

This Time

A Fight for Attention.

The monkeys chewed it over.

Off they all went.

Too tired to shout . Too poor to fight for attention

Experimentaly yours . Sir Squilfore Shaker

Bedroom posters covered the walls and tops of tables where the Count lay dying . His splashed yellow and reds still wet and dripping as Guinivere dusted the book cabinet.

‘Oh say can you see’, she coninued ‘that which I can see ‘, and his eyes moved slowly in his strained sockets at the ceiling as he worried his lower lip with a stained tooth. This used to be where the work got made. This used to be where he played the harpsichord and drew smutty pictures for his own pleasure . All gone. All destroyed . A wayward missile measured the inches to pages and pages of flesh and bones and exploded.

The world contined to hear Guiniver and Guiniver only . And . From the trees small stars winked at the room and pitied the small paintings with woody photons smelling faintly of citrous.

Than Others.

barry — Sat, 14 May 2011 17:25:29 +0000

Others were to follow. Mostly about Fresh Air and The World in the Fresh Air and all thats in it. While thinking about it the boy watched the Tyger video of the band singing Friends. A piece of music that only Martin Koerner had ever heard of. Because Martin has listed to pretty much everything and doesn’t sleep . Barely time for breath if you’re Martin . Or anythhing else come to that. Like – barely time to promote your own material eh Martin ?

The More There Is.

barry — Sat, 14 May 2011 16:34:45 +0000

The more there is the more there is might be a poor idea for a new post but could be pretty nifty for checking to see you you can follow a simple instruction from your site builder . So there we are. The more there is the more there is . And the better we all are for it. Maybe. We don’t know but lets publish and find out.

Time Marches On

prisca — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 21:54:55 +0000

and nerves and nail tearing won a January posting competition. Silly really but still. Now, here we are again practising with the administration toys and expecting some Sunday night Midnight Horror to the sound of an old ‘Stones’ track. Sympathy for the Devil I expect. Of course I’d rather watch the hockey. I’ve never watched before but any old excuse and after all, it is the final. Even If i never spot the Puck. Which must be a large part of the thing. You say I digress. Sorry. Sighs. Publish and be Doomed. Prisca says ‘what could go wrong?’ Lots.

December Embers

barry — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 14:22:35 +0000

A remembered December ember retouched for the new year remains. More on this much much later. But now a quick dust around an old type face. A spot of font mopping and ascender fondling. Seasonal and mature like scribblebibs. Does this font make my b*m look big? No? Sure? Good. Thankyou. Happy New Year Prisca and Nick.

Asert yourself riflebags. Seize the page. Light the torch. Blaze a new trail across the sky or return early to a repaste of milk and cookies. A tough call. I’ll take an cookie and chew it over. Cymbal rash here. Morbi in sem quis dui placerat ornare. Pellentesque odio nisi, euismod in, pharetra a, ultricies in, diam. Sed arcu. Cras consequat.

A Sore Gum Post

prisca — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 22:55:53 +0000

If a throb inserts itself mouthstyle in an old mans blog gob does the world need to hear about it? Should this small swelling be broadcast? What would Alexander the Great have said? Can we know? Should we just shutup and draw? Bearing it without fear or malice. Just – Being in the world. Thats a shutup and draw isn’t it? (Thought so). Yeah well.Blame scrapplepop for asking wouldya?

Headache moves in to the skull next door

prisca — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 18:21:33 +0000

Headache moves in to the skull next door. Tooth envious.

Scribblebag tweet appears above Astro_Mike in the mission control centre. Scribblebags feels conflicted. Bathroom break coming up. Rather poor first wet shave gets the morning off to a gallopingly poor start. Back to bathroom to adopt recovery shave position.

A son returns. A mother makes lunch. Blue sky tweet.
Cheese induced sleep.
Awake and arise Sir Scribble for a bag of itsy bitsy donuts…Ok i agree to the challenge…lead on Sir Sugar Tongue…and I shall follow.

Xmas post

prisca — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 23:12:49 +0000

Scribblebib to deliver Mothers Xmas post. V.Important person this Scrabbledbob apparently. All the best jobs.
Xmas therapy vouchers. Please dont send me Xmas therapy vouchers. Wait until the new year sales. Be cheaper. Better. Thinking of you always.