Sunday, June 13, 2004

Sloop John B 

For no good reason, I couldn’t sleep again last night, so I tiptoed up to my Attic Studio Complex to engage in a bit of finger picking and listen to some music on headphones. It’s my private hideaway (wasn’t that a River Phoenix film?), and somewhere beneath the papers and CDs and wires on the desk there is a post-it note, written when I first set sail on this little blogging adventure, intended to act as a kind of compass, or my very own personal Northern Star, to help me stay on course.

“We’re lost Captain!”
“Nay lad, just consult the post-it note and you’ll be alright. Ahaa!”
“Aye aye Captain! Good idea! Let’s see what it says. ‘If you can’t be above criticism, then at least be beyond comprehension.’ What the fuck is that supposed to be mean? That’s just bollocks!”
“Ahaa! Bollocks, lad. Perhaps it means you should just write bollocks.”
“Mmm. You know Captain, I think you could be right. Bollocks it is then!”
“Now then , me hearty, how about some of my tasty fish fingers?”
“You’re not Captain bloody Birdseye. Stick to the metaphorical nautical advice please.”
“Aye lad. This beard really tickles.”
“Don’t try to build your part up.”

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It kind of goes without saying, but this is my blog. I own it.

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