Strange *

I could and really should tell you about Notebooks of a Naked Youth by Billy Childish, which I just finished a couple of days ago. But, me being a lazy sod - except for work today when I went flat out (Jane, tell them what I told you!) - I won't so you'll just have to read about it here and read about Childish here and read an interview with him from the Observer back in 2004 here and read a bit more of a biog here.
As you will see from all this stuff, Childish has been quite a prolific writer since first emerging in Chatham, Kent, as part of the punk group The Pop Rivets in the 1970s, having now been party to over 100 recorded albums and author of over 30 collections of poetry and four novels.
The book is very funny and extremely surreal. Well worth the read.
Childish is a quaint, eccentric Englishman and a talented one at that - the only downside being that he had the bad taste to have been the significant other of Tracy Emin in the past.

I was on the verge of doing one of my "I'm-not-going-to-blog-ever-again" type statements, so I'm glad that Childish forced me to write something. But I'm also really glad that I spoke to a certain someone tonight and she cheered me up and lifted my total boredom - even though part of the conversation was about something really sad, which she has posted on (I'm sure my readers know where to go).

* Originally by Wire, later covered by This Mortal Coil and then later again covered by REM.