Aren’t We In Love?


This is the feeling, (we think)
Such as
Feelings go, a feeling deeper
Than you’re used to, so
Come into the room, and
Sit with me. It’s a simple
Feeling, it is blue and red
And pink and scarlet.
Love, the tablet, passing my lips is
Wine and smashed peanuts
And beery, slippy kisses.
Your hair twisted in curls.
Your heart twisted in whorls.
Come inside:
It’s warmer here.

“The Drunk on The Plane”


There is something so sad
About the drunk woman
Next to me. (Sure, I’ve been there.)
I even have the T-shirt.

There are the loves I
Have seen ground down, and
It stabs at my heart,
Just as the cheering glass coddles it.

The thrashing, fitful
Drunken sleep of the
Middle aged Woman
next to me,

She leans to rest,
First on my shoulder,
Then grabs for my arm.
I push her back.

She kicks the chair in front,
Stretching her legs, then Down!
She headbutts
The chair in front.

She has had maybe
12 of those mini red wines.
She is blotto in Santa’s dirty grotto.
She is feeling fine.

This is where drunks go, to a
Land of spectral simplicity, of
Shadows and rumours and
Yelling night terrors.

I see her later at
Baggage Reclaim #7
(She made it!). She is
Wearing a turkey on her head.

Maybe that was all of it,
Her Christmas Party?
I feel hollow,
And I feel guilty –

Because I know what
Drove her on. Or I can guess.
It’s a sweet smoky dulling of
The exquisite pain of knowing.
No more – and sometimes much less.



So, I’m trying out Wright’s Premium White Bread mix as a stop gap and to learn some kneading techniques with a premix. The baker is still suffering.from a cold and is fresh from a two-man moshpit in Leytonstone last night (to a cover of ‘Paranoid’ by the Sabbath). We also watched.”Gravity” which is one of the worst films I’ve ever seen. Lumpen, cliched script and *huge* gaps in the science.  Anyway:


And in the tray:


So now I just have to let it rise a but and then cook the shit out of it. Might add some of the missus’ poppy seeds.

Here’s where I’m letting this bitch rise while I play “Hitman: Absolution” (PS3) which is maybe 5 million times better than Sandra Bullock’s simpering damsel in distress phone in on “Gravity”. Best Actress my arse.


Finished article later.

Wide Open Spaces

An urban agglomeration such as Westfield Stratford City is of great interest to the author. Westfield Group is listed on the Australian Stock Exchange and has a portfolio of properties with a market value of over £30bn. It is a growing force for change. As a group, it takes projects from planning, funding and concept to completion. It has created striking similar sites across the globe, from East London to Downtown Manhattan. Or FiDi, as New York would have it.

These sites are sites of mass movement: mass trade, and mass transit. The research that the group does works to funnel people in a way that is efficient for the shops and outlets on their sites. The Mall Theory of flagship anchor department stores at the corners if the triangle is adheres to. These sites heave with people, eager to buy, eager to eat. They give us what we appear to want. Shops, of many kinds, under a roof, so we can shop, forever, until we are utterly spent.

The infrastructure required for this is immense: it creates wide open spaces that are good to wander about in, devoid of intent. They are places to be a flaneur. These are our new margins. They exist inside and outside of the new concept if place in the post-commercial (Capitalism won, after all, hands down, as did neo-liberalism).  They are our playgrounds. Let us rejoice and spread the Word.

Bread as Life

So my soda didnt age well. I mean bread, like, doesn’t age well like wine ages well, I know that, but this bad boy didn’t even really last a day. Soggy semi-dry buttermilk.So I return to the drawing board.When all along I know my bread, my food, my staff of life.

Chapatti! Roti! Praise the Lord!

Man, I love my mother’s chapattis.