Friday, 30 June 2006


I have just received an extraordinary e-mail that, with minimal editorial work, I have succeeded in transforming into a piece of astonishingly oblique, enigmatic and symbol-laden prose worthy of some distant cousin of the late James Joyce:

“…and under the new-name, padlock-law, I have momentary-contact with the Old-Clothesman - the moth-eaten, near-legged, palm greaser - and the Ore-Smelter: passion-breathing, monster-teeming, orange-madder…

“At the oblong-linear oyster bar we feast on paraffin-based, parliament cake with microscopic, trioxide, mouse-eared hawkweed; methyl-blue peanut butter; pearl-blue Monterey halibut; niff-naff, opal grey mistletoe bird and mist grey passenger falcon …

“Then, beneath the nectar-streaming, orange-tree, in the outside loop, in the mid-period party circle, in the north-northwestwards open-view-milk-condensing open-spacedness we join the Neo-celtic Morris-dance with parchment-coloured organ coral, a mew-gull, wax orchids and a moss-covered Neo-sogdian night monkey…”

All that and not so much as a mention of Hoodia or Viagra!

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