Good Morning Doggerland!

A timeless work of art , from the dry and empty Tenere. It must be even older than, that "desert of deserts". The Greeks called it the camel leopard, that long-necked one. (Today we use it to explain (and riducule) Lamarck, and as a model of high blood-pressure).

He was a cool guy, Red Rodney !

The first time she saw him,she laughed,because it so obviously wasn't the first time. The second time,he laughed as well,and they greeted each other as old friends do. The third time,they were lovers,lying in silent naked embrace on a narrow wooden bed in a small room with a slanting ceiling. Through the skylight, the deep blue night looked like something Chagal would have painted. She had a vision of large orange cats grinning on the garden wall, their colours standing out brightly in the powdery dusk. She slept. And her mind wandered off to some ancient place, she saw herself clinging to her lover like a single rock in the ocean. Becoming one in every sense; a love beyond false overtones of grandiosity, of anxiety or of guilt. A love overshadowing all other sensations with frightening urgency. At the point of orgasmic climax they burst into flames and were shot upwards through spiritual planes like a two-headed astral rocket. When it seemed they could travel no further, she bro

The Hippie Interlude is Bert Sommer singing "Jennifer" live at Woodstock! For some reason I just like this;

"Someone has stolen a snail." ( Laughter ) "Serious. There were three snails. Now there are two." "It's there. You probably just can't see it in the weed and that.." "No. I would have been able to. It's not there. It's gone. It must've been pinched!" "By who? Er.. Captain Macheath ..?" ( Sarcastic laughter ) "There were three snails. Now there are two. It's gone. See for yourself." ( Examines culture ) "Yes. Only two. But it can't have been stolen..." "Why 'can't' it have been stolen?" "A pond snail?" "It's not just a pond snail, that. It's like, an exotic type." "No it isn't. There aren't any 'exotic' pond snails. Even if there were, where's our mysterious exotic-snail spotting thief going to flog it?" "You're only interested in motive. We haven't got to motive yet. It's just facts for now.&q

Are we a collection of Swiftian spiders in a grisly cellar, conjuring web from their own innards..."Isn't my web especially fine?". We can be heroes, just for one day. But then there's to-morrow. And then there's 30 years on. And then we are laughed at for the cut of our coat. This is why so many young people just grasp the chance to be an instant cliché. Getting it over with, like. You can say this: "I have no other; but she doesn't understand. I will never have another, but you can't tell her that. Why does it have to be that way? Why does this openness breed contempt? What is wrong with us ?" Bathing with salts and Epsom salts is better than just ordinary bathing. People who "win" are deluded. They seem to think life is a series of games that only they understand the rules to. Like a casino where they can stack up "Karma chips" because no one else is watching the roulette wheel. I'm not saying they won't be happ