Sinister: sir, your lipgloss is still in the taxi

[Gordon]

I'm at the Pleasance: centre Edinburgh Fringe and this woman is shouting
at me. She's really upset. She's a nurse. I'm 'involved' in that nasty
public building down the street that arrogantly using up so much
precious public money. It's true, I suppose. Someone comes over to ask
her to leave because she's making too much noise... I leave instead,
explaining that I feel I'm the cause of her upset. Actually, there's no
problem with passion.. I respect it. But it is upsetting.
I stay over in town, and meet mum next day for lunch. Then through this
pneumatic castle outside the Sheraton (from where I'd earlier phoned in
sick from a comfy bed along the lines of 'curiouser and curiouser'). I
go alone to a play in Georges Square in the evening done by some
Oxbridge types... very good..  they asked me after if I worked for a
newspaper or a magazine as in 'reviewer'. Anyways, it's called 'The
Dispute' by Marivaux, and it features a wonderfully histrionic
performance by a Ms. Zannah Hudson playing *Egle*.
Then, later at night, I play champagne socialist with a maxed and two
young lads thought I was going to beat them up: how twee is that?
declared that they was not gay but loved me : how twee is that? so some
of ... well how high a volume level is life supposed to be at?
I haven't even mentioned the brief encounters with other characters,
including.. ok, Gordon, stop showing off, and you're writing a weblogue
in the wrong place.
Place/ (dis)place
No matter how hard you try.. you always end up somewhere.

I scan the titles on these bookshelves:
To reflect what?
Is it easier to think up:
Than to think nought?
I shall quote;
For company's sake:
How can we do God's will, says Coufoutain in *L'Otage*, when our only
way of knowing it is contradicting it?


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