the chimney ruse is just a con
While there may be scant few who remember, and less still who give a f@ck, it does not escape me entirely that nearly a decade has rushed by since I broke my promise to defile the bleachers with a bespoke reading or two.
Well. The ego has shrivelled, the eagle never did land, but the idea which first began percolating down through the topsoil all those years ago to where exhibitionism lies buried continues to fester like human papilloma virus nursing a grudge deep below the skin.
The monkey may be rusty, his performance wavering, but feed it a couple of tabs of Viagra and the organ still grinds.
And so. This year coming, plans are afoot to resolve the unconscionable and break out the mic. The logistics remain hazy. The physics untested. But rest assured, the programme is scheduled. There will be a gnashing of teeth. Amen.
spek weh
"weh put the wee in weegie."
"thrill to the glottal stop!"
2 comments:
I wonder if you would consider recording your performances and posting a few mp3's so that your far-flung correspondents can hear you say somethin' now and again. Jock Scot passed in 2017; seize the throne of Scottish rock and roll poetry!
Well. I just this afternoon went out and purchased a microphone. My first attempts at recording several readings suggested I might need one. We'll see.
A few MP3s should not present too much of a hurdle.
I'm less convinced about the merits of stepping into someone else's shoes, let alone thieving their furniture. I sit best well-oiled on my own familiar sofa. Or in front of a monitor soundchecking an empty house.
Thanks for the props, though, jonder.
It will be my pleasure to post you the results.
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