26 May 2005

Too Old to Live, Too Poor to Die

I was convinced when I woke up this morning, that I had Parkinson's disease. Uncontrollably shaking hands that could barely guide my cigarette to my lips. A meeting with my financial advisor, has put paid to this. I cannot afford to have any illnesses at all. I must work every day until I am a little old man. She also berated me for not having made a will. She says 'in her game, clients drop dead all the time'. I entered her office, feeling somewhat apprehensive about financial matters, but filled with the joys only a sunny day can bring. I left, feeling like I was entering the valley of the shadow of death. Still, she has worked wonders with the sorry figures I produced, and ...thrown me a lifeline...well at least the homestead looks secure.
I played Saw and Guitar the other night at A prestigious book awards at the ICA. Hired help. It was a great evening. My sawing sending strange yet ethereal tones through the splendid Nash Rooms. A lot of champagne was consumed and by the end of the evening, I was playing twelve bar blues - which seemed to go down very well. Nick Hornby presented the prize, and I am sure he'll make me the subject of his next novel. He made a very telling speech, about thinking that writing and publishing his first novel, would sort out his life, and how it didn't. Then he thought the second one would...and so on. Bugger.
The highlight of the evening, was being introduced to Wilco Johnson, the blues legend. He didn't need much persuasion to pick up my guitar...I accompanied him on the saw. Although we have no immediate plans to record and tour together, I feel it is only a matter of time.
I did slightly put my foot in it for complimenting him on a record he hadn't actually played on...I think the fact that he didn't contribute to it, shows remarkable musical subtlety. Or something.

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