Here’s my tweetcloud for the past year. Nice to see Love showing so strongly. Also wine. Ahem. And am I regretting all those tweets about Mark ‘the cock’ Cavendish? Hmmm, maybe just a little. It was all Mags’ fault anyway.
Text heavy, and with an embarrassing reliance on CAPITAL LETTERS and then some... The second installment of The Melody Haunts My Reverie appeared in a small print run in early 1989 with copies run off on the Art school copier whilst I was meant to be working towards my final degree show. I have only briefly looked at the pages of this. Oddly enough there is still a lot of pain involved in reading these pages - mostly now pain at the fact I could have been so mean and unforgiving to people who deserved a lot better.
Interestingly, a few of the people in the ‘thanks’ list have recently come back into contact after twenty years. Others, like the Allens (Rodney and Beverley) are seemingly sadly irretrievably lost to the mists of time.
I tried to use a nifty ‘fold out’ centre pages technique in this ‘zine. It made for a nightmare on the collation and stapling front, which maybe explained why I didn’t make too many copies. Nothing to do with the fact that nobody wanted to read it. Oh no, of course not. Interestingly, I think my passing mention of the Manic Street Preachers on those fold out pages (29 - 32 in the PDF) may be one of the first printed mentions of the group. Not that anyone noticed or cared.
I’m particularly drawn to ‘The Dance’, a piece inspired by reading Philip Larkin. I had in my mind the misplaced notion of being a poet at the time. Still, that unfinished Larkin piece still moves me enormously, as does my own piece for different reasons. For a year later the character my narrator is having the conversation with in the pub would be dead in a car crash.
Note also the references to Peter Benson’s incomparably brilliant novel The Levels at the end of this fanzine. And you want connections? There is a line of praise for The Levels from Jane Gardam on the frontispiece for my paperback copy. And of course you did manage to spot the Jane Gardam references in the scrappy Delight In The New Wonderland, didn't you?
And yes, yes of course my love affair with The Levels was a major player in my wanting to live in the South West.
Just having a wee peak at the latest listening from my Last Fm chums. The Clientele, The Lightning Seeds, The Field Mice, The Granite Shore, Horse Shoes, Electric Light Orchestra, Pants Yell! and Girls. Such fine tastes, and no mistake.
It gives one a nice wee glow, doesn't it?
Or maybe it’s just because it’s Friday and I’m happy to be home with a bowl of Paprika flavoured Burt’s crisps and a mug of steaming tea. Who can say...
Lovely to see The London Nobody Sings featuring the gorgeous ‘Earlies’ by Trash Can Sinatras today. It’s long been one of my own favourite London songs. No, scratch that. It’s long been one of my favourite songs, period. Nice to see that the band are still performing it too, judging by the YouTube video Kevin has posted. Shame Frank Reader looks such a ticket though. A shave and a haircut would not go amiss, Mr Reader.
Thanks to Ann and her iLike blog for pointing me towards Wil Freeborn and his wonderful art. I love the Moleskine sketchbook pages. This one kind of reminded me of some drawings I did myself, many, many years ago when I was travelling on the train up and down from Troon to Glasgow to go to the Art school. Except mine were nowhere near as good. And speaking of the Art school, we've been watching Tutti Frutti again recently, and the scenes in the first episode that were set in the GSA really took me back. Ah, nostalgia...