Falling Down the Rabbit Hole & Gringos Neverending Whiskers

I was falling down the rabbit hole so I went to see some art. I am falling down the rabbit hole because I am at one of those phases where the world seems to tip a little on its axis an’ you walk a bit squint. Thankfully my friend Bob rescued me by coming to visit from Edinburgh and we went to see this exhibit by Ed Rushca in the Tate on Saturday, I liked this one an’ the one below. I got my photo taken next to this by Bob then we had a day down the river on Sunday which was lush. I didn’t know who Ed Rushca was but I liked a lot of his picks, simplicity but sometimes simplicity is so much more, Dirty Baby was made in 1977, year I was born, I like it. I like this one as well. Check out more of his work here: /#mce_temp_url#

Bob is immortalised on CD in the Beat Anthology which just came out. I read it in bed with coffee an’ more coffee then toast and Gringo thought the CD was pretty fuckin’ good too. I gave Bob a cartooned copy that I did myself for his birthday an’ he was pretty chuffed which makes me happy. Meanwhile Gringo’s whiskers never stop growing. He has them everywhere the older he gets, out his chin, huge spiky eyebrow ones, chest whiskers, some on the back of his legs. I have lived with Gringo for sixteen years now, twice as long as I have ever lived with any human being ever. He has seen all things. It’s why he needs to sleep so much. One of my favourite sounds in the world is Gringo snoring. You think you might love something only so much, or get to a level an’ stick with it but then you find, love keeps growing an’ the more you know the more miraculous an’ precious – the good things are. I am dedicating The Dead Queen of Bohemia – my next collection of poetry, to him and Quita, Quita died last year, I stroked her right up until her last breath an’ it felt funny reassuring her that it was okay to die when we don’t know what’s out there or what happens on the last breath. That made me consider the Universe and The Deathwish Comets which I wrote an epic play about. I might drag that one out the vast pile of boxes that make up my writing history. I began The Panopticon an’ I am trying to handle it lightly you know, real lightly – great art, they say, isn’t meant to be grabbed at or pinned down or fretted out of existence. There is no balance in it. It’s like falling down the rabbit hole but I go willingly, it’s the only place I ever knew how to be, you know, just be, or cared not so much that I didn’t! It’s all beyond me really, I’m just hitting free-fall so The Panopticon can breathe. I miss playing music a lot this week. It was a first love. That an’ the words. Playing in bands kind of saved me, it was all kinds of wonderful an’ muchness of wrong but I miss it, I have been singing a lot again lately an’ have to get a side project to soothe me. S’all needles an’ pins people, shimmy some, for Jackie De Shannon – produced by Phil Spector with the Cookies on backing vox, an’ of course Gringo’s Neverending Whiskers xx

an’ somewhere in the midst of this I handed in my final essays, degree no more! My Scold’s Bridle exhibition has an opening night on the 19th of May, Stephen Lawrence Gallery, Greenwich 6-8pm. It is so good to see a piece of art I’ve worked so hard on, up on a wall in a gallery like it should be. One or two women who contributed their words said they may drop by so I hope to get a chance to say hello, free drink too, free drink is always the best kind, salut people, an’ slanjiva!