Friday, June 01, 2012

If I kept a piece of paper or even grander scheme a pad or diary (sniff) at the side of the bed with a pen and a little batman light then I’d probably be in a studio with a robot reciting rhymes with no meter to an inaudible audience whilst silent gears turned in a fantasy brain.  I’d gaze out the window on the coast and the canals and the boats and the birds and the trees and the lack of telephone wires and know that what was unknown could rear its ugly head in a beautiful way, and not being sure on said scenario's desirability, I'd be forced no doubt to seek clarification on what's said/unsaid, seen/unseen, and original/clichéd, and ASAP.