you read it here first, now thrill to the glottal stop.
Ever wondered what a slacker Scot with a poetic bent itching like an ingrown toenail sounds like ? Peter Mullen on Prozac ? Taggart on Tamazepan ?
Well. Torture yourself no more.
Since the seed of polite interest was first sewn on these very pages, the idea has been percolating down through the top soil to where exhibitionism lies buried. The drawers are full to bursting. The undershorts are sullied.
The performing monkey might be rusty, but the organ still grinds.
The motivation is thus. If the distance between here and an open mic event is unconscionable, I might as well dig out a loose leaf of poetry or two and record it at my leisure. Break out a bottle and inflict some lines on unspoiled flesh. I know. Remote villages and slave factories around the globe idle in anticipation of that first instalment. The moneylenders shut up shop.
Exhausted spinsters fend off those last advances and demand a little hush.
Well. If it is not your bag, my advice is go f@ck yourself. A free gig is a free gig. And who knows ? While it might not float your boat, this punch-drunk fool may still raise a wry smile between now and the bigger curtain whispering down.
Of course. I am as woefully unprepared as always. I have not even begun to engage with the logistics of orchestrating such a monumental event. The inbuilt microphone on the PPC remains untested.
Stay tuned. Or detuned. Whatever gets you off.
12 comments:
Yeah, well I for one will wait with baited breath, to celebrate your inevitable assumption of the mantle after all.
"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
Yours, etc.
If Mike "A" baited his breath, what hopes he to catch?
I also am excited to hear a drunken Scot babbling verse.
I shall stay excitedly attuned.
Word verification is: skedbool...Scottish for sure.
Thanks, Mike. I'm a little excited myself. Of course, whether that is the result of the wine I've just imbibed is open to discussion. I'll demur until the inevitable hangover.
Right now I'm sitting high.
When it comes down to it, the only thing which will be doctored is my nerves.
Good thing I can cut for a take two. Or three.
We shall see.
I bumped into a woman yesterday in a bar who told me there is an upmarket - I assume - pub in Glasgow called Chinaski's. Right next to the Black Sparrow.
I've been out of circulation for too long. My barroom days are a thing of the past. If they refuse to let you smoke, I refuse to pull up a chair.
This chance encounter was exactly that. An aberration on yet another ridiculously warm afternoon. We chatted for a half hour or so. Unexpected, but vaguely illuminating. And quite human.
Good, as always, to hear from you.
California is standing by for your message.
Nathan.
Good to hear from you too, my brother.
I'm tumbling into full fledged engagement with the grape as I type this, so forgive my slow wittedness.
The only thing which spoils my afternoon so far is seeing England going through to the next stage. I am that kind of Scot vilified by many as an antisocial anachronism.
I can't help it.
While all those around me square up to some kind of fraternity, I am eternally rooting for the opposition.
Once a Celt, always a guest on the fring of things.
Jon. Good to have your support and solidarity.
I'm waiting with all ears for the first 'free gig'.
Well. I better do it soon. Before all my teeth get replaced, or otherwise.
Basically, I believe that breath bated with bourbon brings better blogger blarney, or something...
"The correct spelling is actually bated breath but it’s so common these days to see it written as baited breath that there’s every chance that it will soon become the usual form, to the disgust of conservative speakers and the confusion of dictionary writers. Examples in newspapers and magazines are legion; this one appeared in the Daily Mirror on 12 April 2003: “She hasn’t responded yet but Michael is waiting with baited breath”."
So, I am legion, i guess? Or maybe I should only comment when sober-but then no one would ever hear from me...
"Or maybe I should only comment when sober-but then no one would ever hear from me..."
Or me either, Mike "A". Whiskey baited breath is fine by me. Or Chilean grapes. I am seldom fussy in that regard.
"bourbon brings better blogger blarney" has a nice ring to it. More appealing than most strap-lines I can think of.
Minnesota ears twitch, anticipating.
Matt. Good to hear from you this side of the curtain.
I am working up to it. As unreliable as ever.
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