Monday 11 February 2013

I've looked around and ...

There isn't any news. I'm even less in the mood now anyway. I've just recovered from my perforated ear drum. This afternoon, what do I do? I slip over outside and hurt my leg. I hope it's not a fracture or anything. I had a fractured collarbone the other year. / My life is a horror story. I know other people have it worse, but ...

So, I'm writing this tonight. I want to take tomorrow off. I'm actually relieved there isn't any news. Imagine how stressful it would be if there were news all the time.

I'm just like Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood. You should have seen me half an hour ago. I had to drag myself into the kitchen to get a cup of tea and some cherry bakewells.

I don't want to go to hospital. I agree with Carlito Brigante: "Don't take me to no hospital, please. Fuckin' emergency rooms don't save nobody. Son of a bitches always pop you at midnight when all they got is a Chinese intern with a dull spoon."

I am like Daniel Day-Lewis though. / My songs are like that silver he's going after. In the beginning, he has nothing. He's trying to get wealth out of the ground. I'm trying to get it out of my head. / And I'm injured as well, and as mean as a snake.

If I don't go to hospital tomorrow, I'll try to get my leg comfortable and play the guitar the whole day. I don't need any new songs, but I'll see what happens.

I've got Bacharach on again. Very soothing. Just what the doctor ordered. / Trumpet. La, la, la ...

God likes to test people. That's my theory. Like that Krishna guy who had two heart attacks on the boat to America.

Oh, the Pope resigned today. (Yes, a bit of non-financial news.) Apparently, they wanted him to do unpaid overtime on Saturdays when he normally plays golf. He told them to stuff their job.

I think Bacharach’s songs captured the mood of the Sixties even more successfully than The Beatles' songs. The Look Of Love is so beautiful, man.

There's nothing better than writing a great song. I'm sure I've written two. (Not Gilly Marie.) It's unbelievably satisfying. / Now, I've got to struggle beyond my leg, beyond my dodgy ear, and ... 'Beyond Thunderdome, Mikey?' Yeah, I was waiting for you to pipe up ...