Previous Post
David Thomas Broughton
Sunday, September 27, 2009

Went to the Waiting Room in Eaglescliffe. Had a lovely dinner and also watched Twi the Humble Feather trio of guitarists from NYC whilst enjoying my lasagne. Then a nice young man with nice hair sings like a choir boy (imagine Anthony of the Johnsons if he had been raised in West Yorks and was the love child of Jake Thackeray) plays lovely acoustic guitar – and then goes into some kind of psychotic episode involving looping our applause, his own voice, added in other sounds, feedback madness Hendrix style so your ears scream for mercy .. then back to the lovely mellow guitar, hypnotic singing. Add in lyrics about Gregg’s pasties and broken hearts. Genius. Really. It was an amazing evening.
2:42 PM   0 comments

Tuesday, September 22, 2009
7:05 AM   0 comments

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

No it has never been like this before - has it? Maybe way back in the darkened rooms of childhood, the powerlessness, the impotence. There must be a way to reconnect with your own power: consider witchcraft? flower remedies? counselling? Oh no not this old wander off into the byways of pointlessness - still impotent, but distracted. No. Keep your enemies closer, and bide your time. Forget the self-pity, just a version of self-hatred. Let the anger cool and harden whilst you sharpen it into appropriate and effective weapons. Discipline is the key here. Ha. Irony.
Thinking about the world, thinking about little boys who torture little boys - was it always like this? Probably, to a degree. Were children always abused? Oh yes, for sure. But we know no boundaries now. Limitless. I guess I had an idea that our common humanity would provide those limits once we all realised we were mortal. Don't want to turn into Cassandra with sackcloth ashes and dismal predictions about the future. This morning, early, the light was golden and the air filled with millions of tiny, busy insects, pirouetting in the glow. Ecstasy.


2:02 AM   0 comments