Tag Archives: John

Wild Boys Party

In see-through red shirt I’ve had for over fifty years and Japan windcheater, off to Quentin’s party with champagne, cake, box of chenin blanc, card and Latin dictionary.  He’d said he’s doing Latin.  Wrong address directed me to right one, … Continue reading

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Visiting Diana

Yesterday I thought I might use my continued sluggishness to renege on my agreement to go to Camden with John but I was soon moving fast.  I don’t like going to places for their own sake.  I require an ulterior … Continue reading

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Buggered

27/9/ I’ve a red lump on my right temple I can’t tell is by an insect or not.  It’s not itchy unlike the red patch at my knuckle below the index finger of my left hand I can’t find a … Continue reading

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Quentin’s Symposium

I intended not to phone John as he’d asked but go to Quentin’s symposium on my own but he was standing in wait outside Richmond station.  He hadn’t any more money than the night before and an oyster card with … Continue reading

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Problem. Solved.

I woke up slightly angry: the same thing I’d calculated on to make John deinstitutionalise himself he was using to put his prospective rehabilitation down to me.  Something like that.  I wasn’t quite stating it right but there was a … Continue reading

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On Readings of Short Exegesis

On Goodreads I followed the re-readings of Dadaoism, An Anthology to which I’d contributed ‘An instance from which telepathy can be proved…etc,’ the longest title ever, ‘Instance’ for short.  One reader, Janie, sought a mot juste and I offered ‘deconstruction’ … Continue reading

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The Illiterati Party

Just after four I went to Adrian’s where he, Sarah and I shared the English 1503 I’d left earlier, as good as champagne.  I asked if there was any food I, a gluten-freak, could eat.  Sarah felt remiss.  It was … Continue reading

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