my life as a artist
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obama osama o mama can this really be the end
Saturday 22nd November 2008 7:32 PM
The symbolic value of having a black African president of the US is mighty indeed, (Doonesbury 4/11/2008; White American soldier to black American soldier 'He's half white you know' 'Hey, man' says the black guy, 'you must be so proud!'), and it's something I celebrate. It all seemed so unlikely. 'Barack Hussein Obama'. His first name has military connotations and is a synonym for aggressive jeering, his last name is halfway between 'bomber' and 'Osama' and his middle name might as well be Hitler. With a name like that, it's a hard sell, and it's no wonder the election campaign was so expensive.
Obama's election campaign was orchestrated by the famously convicted Scrabble cheat, Zbigniew Brzezinski, who was once Jimmy Carter's national security adviser, and who, in a 1998 interview, defended his part in the creation of Al Qaeda and the Taliban, (in order to draw Russia into an empire-sapping war) by saying, 'What is most important to the history of the world? The Taliban or the collapse of the Soviet empire? Some stirred-up Muslims or the liberation of Central Europe and the end of the Cold War?' I don't know, Zbiggy, but creating your own terrorist organisation and then spending billions of dollars attacking it is just plain weird.
Although I'm happy to have a black man in the White House, and grateful for the heartening image it presents, and the message it sends out to the world, I'm not convinced, in practical terms, he's going to change much at all (although, out of camera-shot, he might possibly change into a twelve-foot lizard). The US is run by a corporate dictatorship, with no concern over ethnicity, and I'm afraid that Obama might turn out to be the ultimate exercise in re-branding. New world order! Now available in brown!
Today Jack Straw, whose atrophied organs of joy hang like haemorrhoids, cancelled a comedy workshop, that was taking place in a Cambridgeshire high security prison, containing 'evil' al Qaeda terrorists. Fundamentalists, although quite good at 'da mental' stuff, often miss out on the 'fun' bit, and aren't noted for an easygoing sense of humour. I think it'd do 'em good!
Don't let your hearts harden,
be willing to pardon,
it's a sad thing to wish a man dead.
Take that Osama Bin Laden,
he's been living in my garden,
I gave him the keys to my shed.
I've said 'no more twin towers,
or abuse of dark powers',
I've been teaching him how to tell jokes,
and he's spent so many hours,
growing veggies and flowers,
he's turned out to be a really nice bloke.
He was used to being feared,
but I like to think that I've steered
him someway to being more meek,
and he still looks a bit weird,
with those eyes and that beard,
but he's quiet,
and he mows the lawn
once a week.
Posted 7:32 PM | 5 Comments | Permalink
point orbit hole
Sunday 16th November 2008 12:14 AM
Tom writes in to ask for the number of the pizza place, and tells me that he can draw, in a tone that suggests he's either hungry for pizza, or for Brenda Modigliani. If it's the pizza you're after, Tom, then I salute your enterprise and adaptability, because it's that sort of 'can do' mentality that's just got Barack Obama elected, but if it's because you want to see Brenda naked, then I'd advise caution. Knowing you to be a carnivorous atheist, with no allegiance to Huddersfield Town, I fear that you might be more susceptible to Brenda's erotic charms than I was, and I'd worry that your pencil might go wobbly.
It's all academic anyway, because I'm sad to say that when I was in town on Thursday morning, I noticed that Modigliani's had closed down. When I got home there was a note from Brenda, along with twenty-five special tomato and cheese and ordinary tomato pizzas, lined up at regular and suitable intervals in the conservatory. The note said that her and her boyfriend had to moved to Tuscany, to work at the Helena Bonham-Carter Heritage centre, and her dad had opened a sandwich bar in Derby called 'Modigliani's Sarnies'
One moment the magic validation word is 'point' and the next it's 'orbit'. Change is all around us, it seems, especially if you're a careless busker. One of the most recent dramatic changes, possibly even more dramatic than that of the validation word, is of course, the recent change of the US presidency from Bush to Obama.
On what was a proud day for all people of Irish descent, President O'bama said, 'I promise the American people change, change from hope to change to courage for change, and in a very real way, today, I believe the hope for the courage to dare to hope for change has been replaced with a real promise for hope, and I think we can draw courage from that, and, I hope, hope.'
This afternoon Huddersfield Town beat Leeds United 2-1, and as the winning goal went in, thirty seconds from time, I couldn't help but think of Brenda and her ridiculous doubting of the existence of God. The magic validation word has changed again and is now 'hole', which coming after 'point' and 'orbit', has a certain poetic drive and narrative to it.
POINT
ORBIT
HOLE
It's concise, it's elegant, it's multi-layered and inscrutable. Let's hear it for the ever-changing, magic validation word!
Posted 12:14 AM | 4 Comments | Permalink
psst! you want buy feelthy pictures?
Thursday 13th November 2008 6:24 PM
Hello everybloggy! On Monday night I ordered a special tomato and cheese and ordinary tomato pizza from Modigliani's, which was delivered on a moped, twenty minutes later, by the owner's daughter, Brenda. Noticing some of my artworks in the conservatory, she asked me if, as a commission, I'd consider painting her in the nude. At first I refused, on the grounds that I'd get too cold and would have nowhere to put my brushes, but then she explained that she wanted a picture of herself naked, to give as a present to her boyfriend, for which she was willing to give me twenty-five special tomato and cheese and ordinary tomato pizzas, spaced out at regular and suitable intervals. Having established that the intervals were of time rather than physical distance, I agreed.
She came round for a sitting yesterday lunchtime, and I painted while we both listened, entranced, to 'You and yours' on Radio 4. Although an attractive young woman, the fact that Brenda was a radical atheist, carnivore and Leeds United supporter meant that I could work untroubled by erotic desire, and the painting was finished, if not before the end of 'The World at One', certainly before the end of the world. Brenda and her boyfriend are really pleased with it, although I'm not convinced. I reckon I've got some way to go before I could produce anything as good as Venus Celli's Botti.
Posted 6:24 PM | 7 Comments | Permalink
my bloggy-loggy
Sunday 2nd November 2008 12:50 AM
This week's revelation that Jonathon Ross, Russell Brand and the head of Radio 2 were involved in the recent spate of bombings in Somaliland and the Congo has shocked both me and my Mum. Not only did it shock my Mum, it sickened her as well. 'I'm shocked and sickened' she said later. It was only then that I realised that, although I'd been shocked, I actually felt quite well in myself.
My Mum reckoned that some of the million pounds saved by the BBC, by suspending the spectacularly untalented Jonathon Ross for six weeks, should be spent on me, and to be beautifully, unbrutally frank with you, I had to concur heartily.
I think of all those lovingly-spun, high-quality yarns that I sold to Radio 4 a few years ago, for less than cost-price, and I wonder if they really appreciated them. At the time, the newspapers said they looked great in them, but I never got any more orders. Mushtaq, my favourite laundryman, who could teach Jonathon Ross a thing or two about folding, reckons my material was delicate yet strong, colourful but tasteful, organic, more than fair-trade, and because it was woven on a loom of conscious suffering, using the warp of the West Riding and the weft of eternity, had a really nice pattern on it. Both of us are shocked and disappointed that the BBC seems to prefer wearing a flimsy, over-priced cheap-looking polyester/bri-nylon mix, that's nasty to the touch, affords little warmth and offers no protection against the icy,howling winds of Ahriman.
Meanwhile, the financial crisis cries and cries, and is and is, and we find out that the market's not only depressed, it's actually bi-polar and taking heavily anti-psychotic drugs. Barclays bank, rather than borrowing from the government, have gone top-hat-in-hand to the new owners of Manchester City, the Abu Dhabi royal family, and reportedly borrowed eight billion pounds and Sean Wright-Phillips. It's made me look at my own share portfolio, and in the present climate, I've decided to play it safe, and put it all into shares in The Big Issue.
Posted 12:50 AM | 11 Comments | Permalink
