User Profile

I'm Jamie, I dwell in London Below with a cat as full of follies as a pudding is of plums. I use lj to read things while pursuing my vendetta against the English language through the valleys of bemusement and bleak fenlands of blank incomprehension. My fandom is the immortal wizard with the magic box, sonic wand and robot dog, and of course his knavish captain, the captain's strangely familiar ex-boyfriend and insatiable harem of rapacious omnisexuals. It used to be, well, less the one chosen girl in all the world than the third one and their friends, especially the vampires and watchers. My favourite story is the one about the Latina punks from Hoppers. Feel free to add and comment or lurk just as you please and also to cut if you lose interest. You can tell me if you like but you don't need to. I will not introduce you to Jelena Janković. I will not give you her digits. I am not better known as MC Flava, nor have I ever been a member of Blazin' Squad.

I mod doctorwho along with Seph. Problem? doctorwhomods at googlemail dot com. Thanks.

'Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.' -John Lennon

'If you don't wanna feel just make believe that nothing's real.' -Edwyn Collins

'You can feel anything you wanna feel and call it real. But I don’t wanna be the one who rides flame.' -Lou Barlow

'Though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain.' -Don John

'You taught me language and my profit on't is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you for learning me your language!' -Caliban

'You think it all breaks down into symbolism and structures and hints and clues. No, Batman, that's just Wikipedia.' -The Joker

'You won't find me, truth to tell, to be a man who suffers fools very well. Quite the opposite, in fact. I ain't got time to interact with crystal wearing freaks in need of a smack.' -MC Hawking

'In life you have to do a lot of things you don't fucking want to do. Many times that's what the fuck life is; one vile fucking task after another. But don't get aggravated; then the enemy has you by the short-hairs.' -Al Swearengen

'I smile when I'm angry. I cheat and I lie. I do what I have to do to get by. But I know what is wrong and I know what is right. And I'd die for the truth in my secret life.' -Leonard Cohen

'I'm like a combination of Joe Stalin and Woody Allen.' -Chilly Gonzales

'See, I don't give a fuck. That's the problem.' -Eazy-E

I Cannot Give The Reasons

I cannot give the reasons,
I only sing the tunes:
the sadness of the seasons
the madness of the moons.

I cannot be didactic
or lucid, but I can
be quite obscure and practic-
ally marzipan

In gorgery and gushness
and all that's squishified.
My voice has all the lushness
of what I can't abide

And yet it has a beauty
most proud and terrible
denied to those whose duty
is to be cerebral.

Among the antlered mountains
I make my viscous way
and watch the sepia fountains
throw up their lime-green spray.

Mervyn Peake

London 1941

Half masonry, half pain; her head
From which the plaster breaks away
Like flesh from the rough bone, is turned
Upon a neck of stones; her eyes
Are lidless windows of smashed glass,
Each star-shaped pupil
Giving upon a vault so vast
How can the head contain it?

The raw smoke
Is inter-wreathing through the jaggedness
Of her sky-broken panes, and mirrored
Fires dance like madmen on the splinters.

All else is stillness save the dancing splinters
And the slow inter-wreathing of the smoke.

Her breasts are crumbling brick where the black ivy
Had clung like a fantastic child of succour
And now hangs draggled with long peels of paper
Repeating still their ghosted leaf and lily.

Grass for her cold skin's hair, the grass of cities
Wilted and swaying on her plaster brow
From winds that stream along the streets of cities:

Across a world of sudden fear and firelight
She towers erect, the great stones at her throat,
Her rusted ribs like railings round her heart;
A figure of dry wounds -of winter wounds-
O mother of wounds; half masonry, half pain.

Mervyn Peake

The Two or The Witnesses

You are the town and we are the clock.
We are the guardians of the gate in the rock.
        The Two.
On your left and on your right
In the day and in the night,
        We are watching you.

Wiser not to ask just what has occurred
To them who disobeyed our word;
        To those
We were the whirlpool, we were the reef,
We were the formal nightmare, grief
        And the unlucky rose.

Climb up the crane, learn the sailor's words
When the ships from the islands laden with birds
        Come in.
Tell your stories of fishing and other men's wives
The expansive moments of constricted lives
        In the lighted inn.

But do not imagine we do not know
Nor that what you hide with such care won't show
        At a glance.
Nothing is done, nothing is said,
But don't make the mistake of believing us dead:
        I shouldn't dance.

We're afraid in that case you'll have a fall.
We've been watching you over the garden wall
        For hours.
The sky is darkening like a stain,
Something is going to fall like rain
        And it won't be flowers.

When the green field comes off like a lid
Revealing what was much better hid:
        Unpleasant.
And look, behind you without a sound
The woods have come up and are standing round
        In deadly crescent.

The bolt is sliding in its groove,
Outside the window is the black remov-
        ers' van.
And now with sudden swift emergence
Come the woman in dark glasses and humpbacked surgeons
        And the scissors man.

This might happen any day
So be careful what you say
        Or do.
Be clean, be tidy, oil the lock,
Trim the garden, wind the clock,
        Remember the Two.

W. H. Auden

From A Lyttell Geste of Robyn Hode:

'Come now forth, Lytell Johan,
And harken to my tale;
A better yemen I knowe none,
To seke a monk's male.'
'How moch is in yonder other corser?' sayd Robyn,
'The soth must we see.'
'By Our Lady,' than sayd the monke,
'That were no curteysye,
To bydde a man to dyner,
And syth hym bete and bynde.'
'It is our old maner,' sayd Robyn,
'To leue but lytell behynde.'










Mulcaster poster courtesy of derooftrouser.

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