Here She Comes Now - July 30 2002

07.03am. There's a film I once saw that has a great line about heat,
the film is "It Came From Outer Space" and is set in a mid western town
and aliens have started taking over the humans living there, statrting
with two cops. The line itself is on "Tinderbox" by the Banshees, and I
cannot remember the line exactly, but it starts "92 degrees. It's just
too hot."

Yesterday (29) was about 90 degrees in the shade, the pavement cooked
quietly in the sun and I wish I didnt have to wear a suit. It seems
insane we have to wear suits when it is hot. Can you imagine a film
where people still where suits when England has gone like Greece in
August? Tyres melting. I remember 1976, when several of the old Lodekka
busses blew their engines. One bus was stuck with steam blowing out of
its radiator and we all had to walk home.

I fed the cats and most of the time they lie about trying to find a
cool place to sleep. I think they feel the heat more than us, as they
have no shorts to put on. Last night I slept on the covers all night it
was too hot otherwise, even with the windows open.

Erin said there was a huge thunderstorm last night, and she was worried
about her cat, who came in quite damp from the rain, like he had been
for a swim. I spent most of the morning sorting out email for someone
at another site, and spent about 40 minutes watching it copy email
across, and then my boss told me I had done it wrong.

At lunchtime I rang Erin, and found a place out of the sun to chat. I
would have bought an ice cream if I could have got one where I was, but
there is no beach and no sand or sea in the city. I had bought an album
by a band called My Vitriol (which I forgot to mention to Erin) and
listened to a bit of it when I had got the panini and latte I have at
lunchtime.

I spent an hour and a half on the phone to some guy in Dublin, trying
to sort out a laptop that our company had just bought for a new worker.
It seems to me that most people need email and thats about it. I am
sure that twenty years ago they would moan if the post was late, and
get upset if the typist didn't type their letters like right now.

I sat outside in the jungle I care to call the back garden. Ever since
I blew the lawn mower half the garden has grown like a scene from
Sleeping Beauty. There are a family of foxes living down the end of the
garden, and I am beginning to wonder just exactly what else has chosen
to live there too. I may go exploring one day and see if there are any
dragons having a kip behind the summer house, or below the tree that
tries to reach the sun. The tree has hidden the shed and grows so high
that it is taller than the flats next door. Oh, the flats only go up
four storeys, the tree is not that tall. Cause if it was I would climb
it and see if there really was an ogre living at the top.

I had another long chat with Erin. And I liked her story she sent me
yesterday, I made the point of getting up early to read it. I think as
we talk we learn more about each other, how we act and react to things
we say to each other. I sent her a tape at lunchtime, squatted in
Smiths and wrote at the address and then posted it first class. I am
not sure what Erin will think of the tape, as it has Slade on it, and a
lot of sixties stuff on the B side. I had forgotten just how loudly
Noddy Holder sings. I like it anyway, I hope she does too. Doesnt mean
I wear flares, far from it. In fact I wore a pair of combats that I
last wore about five years ago and my boots, as I had to go to the offy
to get cigarettes and bought two Orange Reef to drink, which I
did.

Erin got the Clash at last. I heard that when Elvis Costello got the
album The Clash he played it continuously for 24 hours. I suppose he
liked it a lot. My favourite Elvis Costello album is This Years Model,
especially the song "No Action". I must find it in the garage again and
listen to it.

I got the Four Star Mary album I had ordered from Amazon and that was
good too. I think Erin might like it, so may do a copy for her.

I broke another two strings while playing the Gibson copy, in fact I
broke them within five minutes of each other, the top E went and I
didnt even touch it, must have been sweat soaked on Saturday and just
breathing on it in this heat caused it to twang off.

I was thinking of band names, and came up with The Gyres (from to gyre
and gimble across the wabe) and the Wabe, and the Borogroves. But the
best name I think came from Sophie's World which I am reading on the
train, and that was "The Third Horse".

Aristotle and Plato are in the cafe having a tea and talking about the
bands they saw last night. And Plato says, yeah but the idea is the
thing, and Aristotle looks at him, lights a cigarette and says, "This
fag is real, its making you squint." Plato gives him a dirty look. "Why
do you spend all your time looking at stuff, its all up here, mate,"
Plato adds tapping the side of his head. "I'm not a caveman you know."
Aristotle says nothing for a bit. Then, "didnt he get beaten up when he
tried to tell his friends about what he had found? If it was me I would
have legged it," he says. "You pay for the teas." "I havent any money,"
says Plato sadly. "I spent it all on dreams."

I guess today will be even hotter.