Sinister: Blue you

[Alasdair Cook]

It could be said that sunsets always seem to happen somewhere else. So much 
for my green thumb! Talking of green, and crashing buses. Tired.

It almost went a bit salmon the other day. Ha, we saw one trying to jump up 
a waterfall last summer. Salmon are so dumb! You weren't BORN here! Git 
lost! It may not have been a salmon of course. Do other fish attempt such 
feats?

I wrote something at this time of year last year about anticipation. It read 
like this. One word after another, from left to wright. That was about 
summer, too.

That's gone of course, along with all my other Buiks. Hell, even my Chevys 
have been chased off. Now at least I can start whining. I would say 'all I 
do is cry', but hahaha I don't. Although I did today, surprisingly. Bill 
McLaren. Wonderful!

I just found out that the FA Cup Final will be held inside an aircraft. 
Imagine the reds, or blues, or whoever, shuffling up and down the gangways, 
in and out of legroom...

I thought about doing an experiment a while back. I think when I'm asleep I 
almost certainly shout out my best art. This is based on little more than a 
hunch, I'll grant you, but I like hunches. I'm a hunchie kinda guy. Oh, and 
a little twinny.

So I went to the local cheap store for whatever and bought, you know, mic 
and tape recorder. It ended up like this.

DREAM SLEEP ART EXPERIMENT

Day 1

Wake up with a tingle of anticipation playing on my tongue. TO SILENCE. 
CURSE MUH MUTE SELF. I AM AN ANACHRONISM! Ah no, have forgotten to switch 
tape player on.

Day 2

A strange humming invades the room when I 'playback'. Sounds exactly 
opposite to a keyboard whirr on the first day of sexual awakening. Of 
course! It is the wheat germ cycle. Nothing more. Noting more, I note.

Day 3

Only a 6 day week, for summer solstice. Traditionally, day 3 is omitted.

Day 4

Day four is JOCUND day! I am so happy I think I will puke! I can clearly 
make out a poem on the tape, I'm sure it must be great. I will now go away 
and listen more carefully.

Ok. I can't quite make it all out, but here's the gist. I shall title it 
'Almost....'

Lentil, oh, startling Anna
(inaudible) abblers! Kind, and always
Just die, pulled from the
Well (inaudible) dove me
fraught in your anteater frenzy
Lazing out to sea.

It is everthing I had hoped for and more! My dilapidated mind is kindled 
once more. I believe that tomorrow I will naturally fill in the blanks.

Day 5

Have filled in the blanks. With more blanks. DAMN THE MOON.

Day 6

Interesting tension between silence and lack of noise. Then! Something akin 
to rambling ingenues playing with wambling engines. It says 'PoStAl 
InCreASe'. I think it is the title of a future painting. All capital letters 
are spoken as such. Later, my snoring has an overwhelming feel of 
melancholy.

Day 7

Tape player ignites mid-night. My screams as the fire approaches the guitar 
on the other side of the room are lost in the hubbub of water and sand. 
Where the sand came from, I cannot be certain. So many wasted words. I could 
have driven a truck through their preconceptions and prejudices, made a 
statement to last the ages. I eat egg to cheer my spirits.

Until,
Alasdair xx










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