love is lies

writing a song, first time in a little while, coming quickly, as they often do at first,

near the end of the first... verse? i guess,

we have a couple of canadians staying with us right now, and for one reason or another i sang to them the other night, a cover: for all we know, and they mentioned chet baker, which of course i loved, so i sang them the thrill is gone,

now both those songs i will do on july 3rd, although they are less current than some, and i have often felt that i have a certain voice for those old sad jazz songs which doesn't work for the songs i write, which are inevitably a bit more modern, they recquire different things from a voice, (mind you on my mind get's to be quite croony sometimes - one of mine) - the reason i'm talking about this is because this tune i'm writing today fits with those old tunes in terms of quality of voice, - i reckon, at this early stage,

it's a wednesday (well it was a wednesday) and i get to go to the pictures for half price on wednesdays, two for one (orange wednesdays - mobile phone promotion), and in these lean times i love this, so i went tonight. my arrangements came unstuck so i spent quite a while finding a "date", and at the last minute my flatmate cedric nash agreed to come. heading into town we were on this balmy evening - to the curzon soho, to see spring, summer, autumn, winter... and spring again.

only the curzon soho is about the only cinema in london that doesn't do this promotion, and it was quite late, a lot of films had already started so we didn't end up going to the pictures at all, just wandered the streets a little, marvelling at the surreal colour of the sky, popped into waterstones on picadilly (book shop - in the old simpsons department store building) which is open 'til ten.

hung out around M in fiction for awhile, Maxwell, Murakami, Maalouf, Marias, Mann, (William, Haruki, Amin, Javier, Thomas), i realised i always start with M in waterstones picadilly, found Ford (Richard), bemoaned his moving from the Harvill Press to another less stylish publisher, chatted about books somewhat inevitably, realised i almost never went into F, checked out C maybe a little half heartedly... headed home without purchasing, but satisfied, on reaching finsbury park there was still a touch of pale blue in the horizon,...

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