dozed and confused

in sick bed. dozing. prodded awake.

"Joseph Gordon-Levitt has a website. You know him. He was in "Brick". Remember? And "3rd Rock from the Sun" with John Lithgow. You like John Lithgow. Remember?"

back to sick bed. dazed.

"er" as in "Clooney" - not "er" as in "um"

is difficult to type at moment. bit fragile. a world of "ouch". hopefully all back together again by weekend. new, exciting ears and nose no longer falling off. hopefully.

in lieu of me - the Russian Winnie the Pooh.

overruled

She likes this. I think it's a bit barking. Patrick Wolf ...

the case for the defence

She's upset. Apparently I've given the impression that she is a musical chav - wandering the streets abusing any random member of the Fence Collective she trips over and saying nasty things about Vashti Bunyan and menacing anyone who looks like they might have bought "Ys".

She wants it made clear that she went to see Neko Case a few months ago and really enjoyed it and brought me back a nice "Neko Case" badge. She felt very sorry for Richard Swift at his ABC gig - it was a miserable, wet Monday night but still ... where was everyone? She is really looking forward to new stuff from Andrew Morgan - she loves "Misadventures in Radiology". She has the Sweep t-shirt. Rock and roll.

"And, anyway, who was it that hurt themselves dancing to the Sugababes?".

So that's me told. I'm off to hide in the wardrobe with my contraband copy of "The Milk-Eyed Mender".

crimes against music, meanwhile, a bear is ignored

Do you know how many photos there are of that Rufus bloke on the Interknit? A lot. Him with long hair. Him with short hair. Him looking serious. Him looking extremely mad. Him in posh suits. Him in leather trousers, just. I think she has looked at all of them this evening. Especially the just leather trousers ones. Humpf. I might as well be chopped socks.

I have mentioned that my head is coming loose. And now my bell is falling out. And it's all Wainwright's fault.

I don't use her name in this blog for several reasons. For instance, if anyone is going to become famous and exploit this for a major merchandising deal then it's going to be me so no point in confusing things.

And she is wanted by Interpol for crimes against Belle and Sebastian. She has, in the past, sneered at the gods of indie pop loveliness. In this town that still carries a mandatory death sentence. You will be taken out to the Botanic Gardens, tied to a tree, smeared with peanut butter and left to the squirrels.

I suggested we try for an insanity plea. She's got the special edition of that "Tatu" album somewhere. That should be plenty of evidence.

But now she's going round dissing Sufjan Stevens. "The musical equivalent of carob". Her words - not mine. She's a goner.

I'd be calling for help but she's got a copy of "Too much" by The Spice Girls (with collectable postcard) and she's not afraid to use it. I think if we all just back away quietly and leave her to her Rufus slideshow ...

the illustrated bear

I like Amy Winehouse. I like tattoos. I like Amy Winehouse and her tattoos.



I'd love to get an tattoo done. An embroidery. Nothing tacky. A discrete little symbol. Maybe my name in Sanskrit. Or something like this.

Oh, BTW, she says "this" might be NSFW. I don't know why "this" would be dangerous for Wombles. I suppose that their tiny little Womble minds might be offended and they could explode but they rake about in bins for a living so you'd think that they'd know better. She says "W" stands for "work". Doesn't sound likely.

Any way, back to my tat. She says "no". She is the death of fun. "What happens when you change your mind? What happens when you get all old and tatty? And the colours might run next time you go for a wash". Hear the fun dying?

Apparently you can now download music with Oxfam. Which is nice. You can download the Pussycat Dolls, because you're evil - I've checked and it's true - and Oxfam get a bit of money to spend on goats and stuff. I've checked about the Pussycat Dolls. I'm just guessing you're evil.

right

I'm not usually that keen on babies or small children but my friend Kim has a new sprog! I like the word "sprog" - it sounds nice and bouncy. But, hum, maybe a bit sticky. I don't like sticky.

Hurrah for Theodore "Theo" Alfred Alexandre! May he be nice and bouncy but not sticky.

wrong

She's been out to see a film. She looks at me. Menacing gleam in her eyes.

"Do you think that you'd look like Robert Downey Jnr. if we shaved off all your fur?"

This is the film.

No.

Bears! Bears! Bears!

Potapych : the Bear Who Loved Vodka



More from Metafilter.

And today's Savage Chickens.

And I finally got to see the Werner Herzog film "Grizzly Man" yesterday.

It's like Bear Day has come early this year. Meh. "Teddy Bear Day is NOT an official holiday. Your teddy bear does not get the day off". We'll see about that.

acting up

There are a lot of festivals on these days - film festivals, book festivals, Crufts. Is that a festival? Lots of dogs in a room. Hum. I used to get taken to the Edinburgh Festival. Well, actually, I used to get taken to Edinburgh during the Festival. I was usually made to stay and guard the flat while everyone else went out and had fun. I was occasionally allowed out for the odd scraggy puppet show.

But I have a dream. I want to take a performance to Edinburgh. Nothing fancy. Just a stage and a bear. The bear would be me. I'm not expecting one of the larger venues. Not to start with. Maybe one of those spiegeltent things.

Last year's show, well, it sank without trace. Literally. My one bear show based on "Das Boot". Turned out that the biscuit tin wasn't as watertight as I'd hoped. Course she was more bothered about the biscuits - I'd left them in as ballast.

This year's plan - "Medea". Keeping it simple. Might have got a couple of the smaller toys to play the corpses of my children. Otherwise - just me, the stage and a knife.

"Can I have a knife, please?"
"No."
"I'm going to be Medea. I need it to kill my children."
"No."
"I won't really do it. I'll be using stage fluff"
"No."
"Just a small vegetable knife?"
"No."
"What about about the pointy letter opener?"
"No."
"Butter knife? No, that would look stupid. Couldn't you make me one out of cardboard? Make it all shiny and sharp looking with tin foil?"
"I'm busy. Go away. I suppose you can use this. Don't break it."

"This" is a clear plastic butter spreading spatula from Ikea. Not completely clear. It's covered in cheery green and white polka dots. She is expecting me to convey the tragedy of Corinth with a spotty kitchen implement. A blunt spotty kitchen implement. From Ikea. Even Laurence Olivier had his limits.

Guess that "Coriolanus" is out of the question too. Might have to fall back on - shudder - "I am Curiously Orange : a tribute to Sooty". But my heart won't be in it.

me by her

Doing her bidding

Everything's been on hold this evening while the seconds ticked by on Ebay. Sweep. As an axe-wielding rock god. On a t-shirt. She won.

I've been passing the time by thinking about Window Box Squirrel. He's gone missing again. She doesn't care. She's getting ready to set up the netting and gun turrets again. Spring has sprung and plants are growing. Pah.

Would I like one of these? Would it be better in jelly babies?

Home fun

She's out at a gig or something. I have to make my own entertainment. The best fun a bear can have, without dancing girls, a bouncy castle or a trebuchet, is a tube of glow sticks and a dark room. Be your own rave. Suddenly it's 1988. Second summer of love. Bear is in the house, giving it paw. Acieed!


She's back early. Lights on and sopping wet cagoul right down on top of me. The evening ends with herbal tea and old time radio for her and damp ears for me.

For all the damp bears ...

Hum for a Sunday afternoon

I can't believe that I'm the only creature to read a Winnie the Pooh story and think "Piglet + jar of honey = honey roast ham".

Holiday in my head

Yay! She went out today. An end to the death bed scenes. And I spent the day doing nothing. Nothing at all. And I did it lying down. I could have spent some time pondering the Japanese Army's campaign of cuteness (as seen in Tokyo Mango). I could have thought big poetic thoughts. Could have thought more about the Oasis problem. Didn't. Did nothing. It was brilliant. I wonder if it's too late to become a sloth.

She's come back with 2 new alarm clocks. Yes, mornings are fun in this house. And more clothes. Tsk. She's brought me a copy of Lenore. Thought it was a bit babyish at first but then I got to the bit where the Easter Bunny got squished. Big fun. And Samurai Sloth. I could be Ninja Sloth. That's my plan for tomorrow. Indolence by stealth.

Idzigs

Another image from Uncle S. - she's had this on her LibraryThing profile and is allowing me to use it in return for not having her put down.

I think she's starting to recover from her cold - the death bed scenes are getting to be less Little Women and more Norma Desmond. My head is still loose but I'm not complaining.

Nearly forgot - idzigs = like a bear with a sore head - in Latvian, allegedly. See also: dusmigs ka velns (cross as a bear) and laca saplosits (mauled by a bear). Latvia. It's going to be fun, fun, fun.

Pierre the Naughty Pirate Bear

This is beyond brilliant. Uncle S. did it. He's in the Starry Wisdom Cult.

In other news, she is still has a cold.