Up Sticks

I watched some music in a big field full of mammals. The coverage of it in the media was nothing like what it was. When the last band came on I was wearing my hat and I got excited and threw it in the air like at the end of the first world war. If everyone else wearing a hat threw it in the air at the same time that would've been something to see. But no one else did. There were a lot of people and very few hats. So it wasn't.
A DJ brought in a classic at the end of his set and the MC went who remembers this one and me and this other guy turned to each other and shat our hearts out because we remembered it and were happy, we made a single prolonged and ragged mouth-noise and the MC went yeah this one's goin out to all the oldies and we realised that the first time we heard it was a very long time ago and we were older than everyone else or they were strangely reluctant to admit to their knowledge. After that he played some other classics and when each one came in we turned to each other and made very loud noises with our mouths. Then he stopped doing it so so did we and left the tent separately.

The Woman at the Front Desk Has Given Up Saying Hello

A new person was there instead of the large man-cloud I usually exasperate without knowing why and she knew how to ridicule her job while doing her job. She apologised for keeping me waiting so long then retracted the apology after I said it hadn't been long enough.
She told me about the forthcoming changes to the system and the new doom they will bring, something about forcing people to do things and how she's not supposed to have an opinion but she does have an opinion and so there it is. I had a book with me and she saw the title and said it out loud.
"It's David Foster Wallace."
"Is it any good?"
and I was going to say he hanged himself, but I said
"Yeah it's good so far."
"I want to read that new one about psychopaths, a journalist followed them round, apparently they run things you know. Working in here I can believe that."

Extract From Fuck Knows What

"I've just realised you've had a haircut. You're likely to already know this, but I'd like you to know that I now know it too."

"Thanks. I wasn't going to mention it, but then if you didn't mention it I was going to mention that I hadn't mentioned it. Your above-eyebrow area looks much the same as it always has to me, unless you've recently changed it and I haven't noticed, in which case it looks tremendous and very you."

"Thanks. What're you doing with the weekend?"

"I am going to reject mediocrity."

"How long'll that take?"

"My entire life and a bit of yours."


"You're going to live longer by not putting any effort in but when I die you'll decide to wear a heavy helmet of guilt which will deflect the suggestions of other people trying to persuade you to stop doing things like producing a magazine that reviews all the other magazines and is called Not Quite Good Enough."


The man came round to look at where we live and I pointed out the things about it that aren't good and he said he'd have a look at them. He looked at them and went away saying we'll be in touch soon and not very soon after that he didn't get in touch and we put eight hundred pounds in his bank account.

Two Books

I read this one about a man who had a bad time and it was quite good, the characters were nails and the author twatted them on the head repeatedly until he'd got his point across. Some of the words were in a funny order which was delightful and there was a lot of repetition. The front and back covers were wider than the pages they were covering but folded over to create inside flaps for the adulation to go on, so you could use the front cover-flap as a bookmark during the first half of the book and then when you arrived in the second half you could use the back cover-flap in the same way until you reached the end.

While I was reading that I was also reading this autobiography of a woman who knew a woman. It was written by the woman herself but from the perspective of the woman who knew her. The woman herself had asked the woman who knew her to write her own autobiography but the woman who knew her wasn't ready so the woman herself wrote it and then died. She arranged words in a way that made people flip their wigs. The front cover was a photo of the woman and the other woman but it didn't say which was which but eventually it became obvious that one couldn't possibly have been the other.

Discomfort and Basic Errors

One bar was playing some music and the other one was playing some other music but louder and we were on the shared terrace so you could hear both musics, the quieter one being better musically and the louder one being a lot worse musically but a lot better sonically or at least louder which is often better except when you want to hear the noise someone else is making with their mouth or have your own mouth-noise reach the holes in either side of their head uninterfered with. There were roughly thirty five brains close enough to be capable of being annoyed by what was happening, the continuation of it happening and the continuation of nothing being done to stop it happening, but there must've been maybe a consensus that no one minds it happening enough to ask anyone capable of stopping it from happening why they aren't stopping it from happening, even though if surveys were issued privately to or vox pops harvested discreetly from each individual the majority of them would use the words asunder, tension, understand and collapse. We went somewhere else.