2004-03-17..5:10 p.m.

For some reason the phrase, Squid on your Face has been on autorepeat all day. It will not leave my brain, rather insists on being regenerated every couple of minutes with different ways of how one might broach the subject with someone sporting squid on their face. I don�t recall eating paste as a child, but if it were to transpire that I did, much would be explained.

This morning has consisted of a lot of mind-easy office monkeying. Envelop stuffing, and coffee-fetching, and client-pampering; ordinarily the stuff of to-the-quick teeth grinding, and internal rampaging monologues, today I could not have asked better. We�re feeling a bit hazy dazy, leaning toward the hoopy, and the mentally rotund, today. In the same way I had my senses cleaved and orifices filled with pixie dust and splendour upon seeing the Loves, the Essex Green, or Herman Dune play live for the first time, I came away from last night�s performance by the Magic Numbers with my mind swirling and speaking in colours.

While experientially a rather awe-inspiring and welcome phenomenon, having to then find cohesion amid the muddle in order to write a review is a daunting prospect, and I�m afraid I�ll just end up describing the night as cantering the happy meadows on the back of a dream-filly, or as nifty and sprinkly like trailing cashmere and snow drops, which gets as cavity-inducing to write as it does to read however well you know, and I, that it�s entirely true. Sigh. I�d damn the whole family, if they weren�t so sweet and cuddly and friendly-like.

I think they�ve only played about five or six gigs, yet there were a tonne of writers in the crowd looking torn between scribbling furiously and gawping lovingly. One of whom is a fellow plum promoter, Kate, who I had a delightful giggle with (unusual because I tend to get very self-conscious and splintered when I�m around other people writing.) It made a change, too, to swap quasi-intellectual critical opinion and get excited over little points and nuances rather than highschool compare and contrast. She�s going to try to make it down Friday night for much drinking of beer and rawkin� out to Vinyl.

[just an aside as taken from the vast notes of last night: Big Bass. (Giant Carp. Does security know about these Enormous Fish? Getting the floor all wet, somebody will break their neck!)] [I�ve got a cartoon of two Enormous Fish in fedoras standing around looking shifty.] [Maybe I nibbled on my oversized crayola�s.]

It�s St. Patrick�s day and I am doing NOTHING tonight. Maybe watching Waking Ned Devine. Maybe perusing some James Joyce. That�s as Irish as I�m gonna get, so lay off, will ya?

Wishing for a bike, or maybe a scooter xxmeep

(um, hi? sorry? I don�t know how to tell you this, but.. You�ve got squid on your face..)