Exploits of the Frictionless Man as it wanders around the world like some kind of slippery hydra. Music, words and pictures a speciality.

Monday, April 03, 2006

Aleister Crowley Pies

Mother was down this weekend. We’ve been eating well, and I even won a game of cards. We went to a certain Swedish furniture store to get a futon chair, which is a very good item but I found the shop very close to being in hell.

I didn’t think that anyone could be so unspeakably cruel as to make me walk through miles of stuff before I could get to the thing I actually wanted. I’m not sure if I got the whole thing wrong but it appeared to me that there is only one path around the place and the only way to get to were the stuff actually is is to walk through miles of sofas and cushions and rugs and plates and pine and coasters and clusters of bovine grazing bourgeoisie. It would probably have been great fun if I had been pissed. As it was I was just confused and a bit scared.

Spring certainly seems to have sprung. We have daffodils in the back garden and the lilies are on their way. I broke my first plant pot of the year as well, after it had been carefully hung on the wall and I had ensured it was properly secured and that there was no way it could possibly fall off the wall, which it did as soon as I walked away. Bastard thing deserved to die. I refrained from dancing on its shards in rage because Mother was there, and I would not want her son’s lunacy to sadden her any further. We now have a wicker type affair in its place, which is more pleasing to the eye and also has a higher degree of bounceability, not to be confused with bouncebackability, which is what quality performers such as Bonnie Tyler and Curtis Stigers have.

I also managed to fix the oven door with bit of wire removed from a clothes peg. That’s what raises us above the rude beasts of the field that is.

We have had a bit of a holiday from playing since the gig in the Singleton, but it will all start again tomorrow. Whilst the actuality of us doing a whole two set, hour and a half gig is still some way off, I’m going to start writing another batch of eight songs to give us a grand total of sixteen. I like having something to work towards; otherwise I get confused and start tidying and cleaning things, fooling myself into thinking that I am making progress when in fact I am storing up frustration for a sleepless night some weeks hence.

Maybe I’ll write one about how unhappy Swedish furniture shops make me. I suspect that I am not trendy enough to enjoy the experience sufficiently. I was rather pleased when we got to the end of the shop were all the decent sized products were stacked on massive shelves, just like the DIY and furniture stores of my youth. All that was missing was a fork-lift abandoned at a rakish angle and a feckless slouching YTS urchin smoking Superkings by the butane gas enclosure.

The futon itself is a mighty creation, Frictionless Bass spent Saturday putting together the various pieces of wood that make up the frame and hammering plastic plugs into it. She can put up the tent when we go to The Lee Relfe Rock and Roll Abattoir Experience in the summer whilst I daub myself in pig blood and sing madrigals in a bucket of black pudding and gin. Or vermouth, maybe.

5 comments:

Hughes the Booze said...

Amen.

I too have a peculiar loathing of that particular chain of stores. their merchandising strategy makes them bear an uncanny resemblance to one of the seven circles and I hope never to venture back in to one of their outlets.

Curiously my wife, sister, mother and other assorted female relations all seem to like it. They positively scamper around in there going "ooh" and "aaah" and "THAT'S reasonable!" before buying wholly unsuitable items of kitchenware that I know will occupy cupboard space for the next three years and never actually be used.

Frankly, rather than go in there to shop I'd prefer to have my penis stapled to the back of a mildly enraged okapi and then have someone call it rude names from a distance, thereby causing it to charge, thus inevitably stretching my poor abused member in a highly painful manner.

Then again maybe not.

Mr Frictionless said...

We all sat down and watched Fight Club last night to purge ourselves. Mother rather enjoyed it. At one point she said "If it were real there would be blood everywhere..." and then there was. "Oh" she said.

morriston burns said...

I think one futon is ok, you don't have to burn down your house. Best thing with that place is to find a thing you actually need in the catalogue, go to the shop and charge through with your fingers in your ears going 'lalalalalala!' until you find it. Otherwise, I like to amuse myself by pretending to live in one of the little fake lounges they have there.

Hughes the Booze said...

You could get yourself arrested for indecxent exposure by taking a bath in one of the little fake bathrooms...

morriston burns said...

Or arrested for murder by murdering someone in any of the little fake rooms.