Wednesday, June 28, 2006


Last Friday evening the Pussy Posse came to mine to celebrate my purchase of four new wine glasses. The number of glasses was significant as we inducted Thea into the Posse that night. Melinda was the first to arrive followed quite closely by Sarah so we repaired to the veranda to drink, smoke and chat until Thea finished work. It was a humid and hot night, the wind had apparently decided it was a virgin bride on it's wedding night and it wasn't going to blow anyone! Melinda and Sarah had each brought a bottle of wine, and as you do, we quaffed those two bottles very quickly. Fortunately it was just then that Thea appeared with an extra large bottle of red and a bottle of white, we were saved. We took a break from fags and drink and went inside for dinner. I showed off my new Death Bed, a day bed that I had adorned with Death himself sitting atop the middle spire and skulls on each bed post (pictures soon, I promise). After dinner we took our chairs, glasses, fags and wine back out to the veranda for the usual trash talk and inebriated consideration of life's meaning. It was then that Sarah was inspired and suggested we go down to the pool in my complex. Oh joy, we were going to cool off! Oh sorrow, when we arrived at the pool there was a sign saying no swiming, pump broken. Did this stop us, not the Pussy Posse, we preceeded to drape ourselves along the side of the pool dangling our feet in the water. It was cool, it was divine and yet we were still suffering the unwanted attentions of the heat. It was about this time that the Naked One jumped up, stripped down to her knickers and leapt into the pool (by the by she later lived up to her name by disposing of those pesky knickers as well). She was in heaven and we wanted to be as well so we all stripped down to our knickers and, pump be damned, we were swmming in the moonlight and laughing delightedly. I called for a Best Breast contest (do not fret children, I was not a contestant, I was the Judge, as befits the Alpha Cunt) and the posse came over all vain and insisted that they be allowed to pose with their arms upraised, something about uplift I believe. At the end of the day, I had to declare a three-way tie, assuring them they were all perfect in their own way, as there was no feckin' way I was going to choose between an old friend, a new friend and my daughter. The interesting thing was that we were surrounded by flats, we were making rather a lot of noise and no one came out for a look, perhaps there was a twitching of curtains that we didn't notice. After several hours of watery bliss we trooped back to mine for pud and finished off the evening, almost perfectly for me, with Sarah and I waltzing to our favourite Leonard Cohen waltz, Take This Waltz.

It would have been a perfect evening if the London branch of the posse had been there. Alice, Buffy, Claire, and Jen - a toast to you. Here's to swimmin' with bowlegged women.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006


I apologise for not writing anything new for weeks and weeks and would like to thank those of you who keep having a look in. I never wanted this blog to be about the minutiae of my life; get up, smoke, drink coffee, smoke, go to work, smoke, come home, smoke, eat dinner, smoke, watch TV, smoke, read, smoke, go to bed, smoke etc. Suffice it to say that I have been very busy managing a new campaign at the theatre which has required me to put in an excess of extra hours. Here are some of the things I've been planning to write about, in shortened versions.

Are white teeth the new accessory? There are so many print and TV ads for teeth whitening, capping, enamling etc that I believe this country has taken the perfect teeth thing to a risible level. If the truth were told, Do you really think your gleaming pearly whites are actually going to distract me from seeing the mounds of flesh rolling off your body? When I see all of you out there with glow in the dark teeth and excessively large bodies, I can only think y'all give new meaning to the phrase, All The Better To Eat You With My Dear.

Governor Rick Perry of Texas has wrangled a new tax bill through the state government which is meant to benefit the schools. He has cut property taxes and levied a $1 per pack tax on cigarettes. Herewith an open letter to Governor Perry.

Dear Governor Perry,
As a long time confirmed smoker who has spent these last many years being villified by people for my nasty habit, I wish to thank you for giving me new dignity as a smoker. After all, I'm now smoking for the children. To ensure that I can smoke more and, therefore, educate more children, could you please get the City of Austin to rescind its ordinance against smoking in public places? Additionally, as you have cut the property taxes, could you not get my landlord to lower my rent so that I can afford to pay the new cigarette tax and smoke more, for the children? Oh yes, one more thing, which would enable me to smoke even more and provide a better level of education for the children, could you make it illegal for a landlord to deny an individual the right to smoke in the home for which they pay rent? I would really appreciate your help with these issues, I want to smoke more and it is for the children after all.
Thank you for your consideration.

Buses in Austin don't come in three's like they do in London. I used to have salacious visions of Route Masters humping each other down alleys and side streets in an effort to remain on the road. It was the only reason I could think that so many buses came in threes. In Austin I often see a mirage of buses. The heat here is so papable it creates a haze that rises from the ground draping the street in a gauzy curtain of hallucination. Each day as I wither on the bus bench and peer hopefully up the road I think I see my bus approaching, but wait, it is just another mirage, it's really a tree, or a sign or a house that only appears to be moving as the heat imbues it with a life of its own.

This morning I was thinking about running a lonelyhearts advert.
I'd like to be your widow. Relax I'm not looking for a long term relationship, just a bit of financial security. If you're about to shuffle off this mortal coil and have a few dollars that you can't take with you, I would make a perfect widow. I can make you infamous writing about all of the cheating, drinking and partying you've done, and let's face it, that's not such a bad epitaph. Or if you prefer I can summon all of my latent skills and paint a picture of you as the perfect lover, husband and father (you will of course have to provide the children yourself).

Lastly, the meaning of life. I was going to save this till my 60th, which is right round the corner but then I thought, no, y'all deserve to get this message right now. If you want to have a meaningful life, you need only remember this, If you talk to yourself, you'll never be alone.