JA. JA. DAS HOKEY POKEY
Big thanks to Martin and Izz for bringing round Bill Bailey’s concert movie Part Troll for movie night last night. Oh God, I haven’t laughed so hard in years. I was still in pain when the last guests left an hour after the end of the movie, and still muttering the above line to myself and giggling, well, as I’m writing this.
For the uninitiated, the line comes from BB’s imitation of Kraftwerk performing the Hokey Pokey. The line between madness and genius has been crossed…
SO HOT… SO HOT…
So hot on Saturday that I stopped off at the shops on my way home from my umpteenth visit to Bunnings and bought a giant inflatable pool. It’s like a paddling pool for fetishistic Yetis (1 1/2 metres high and 10 metres round, and made entirely of inflatable rubber) and it’s soooooooo gooooooodddd……
I’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN WHAT IT WAS LIKE
I wrote tonight! Oh goodness, I actually wrote!
See, I started working a day job two weeks ago, just a short term thing to bring in a little dosh while I wait for contracts and cheques and so on to sort themselves out between now and the middle of the year. But it’s an hour’s journey away, which meant I suddenly found myself without the time to write, and the adjustment to dayjobbing again dried me up creatively, to boot.
But Luscious and I made a conscious decision to drive out the cobwebs tonight, no matter what tripe we wrote, just bang away at the keyboards and see what turned up. And when I read the draft of Father Muerte & The Joy of Warfare, it all fell into place. Dunno if absence made the plot grow fonder or what, but I’ve just rattled off 1922 words in an hour, and finished the bloody thing off!
Don’t know whether to dance with joy or weep with relief.