on xmas day we awoke lazy unorthodox. the i.o.u.s were out in force and little communication was apparent as ditto gifts were unparcelled. later we strolled around the coast and greeted others strolling too. my sister and father plunging into the sharp and crazy sea for a change.

from the dutch hostel in den haag we shivered down to the venue at paard van troje excited and deprived of sleep expectant and wholly unaware of the night to come. our sonic ears were thrashed and trashed in 6 hours of monumental guitar savagery. avant eclectic improvisation composition struck us on all sides until we believed in different dimensions and beingstates. my dead limbs wearing rich abundant smiles and my eyes still dancing mental jives of dreams.

we cobbled together for the trip kinda halfarsed and knowingly underprepared forcing upon ourselves adventurous prospects. five minutes past immigration the car stalls and halts to a splutter. foreign cops interrogate and scan flashlight eyes over their suspicions. our nervous energy audible above the alien tongues and suspecting glances.

if something is too good to be true then it is more often than not a fraud. money is too precious a thing not to be considered above all else. so a '65 jazzmaster will always sell at its recommended price. and if i want one (which i so very do!) i am gonna have to afford it and not get caught in the trap.

because i was dapper in my suit and because i had won lucky charm cufflinks in my overpriced cracker i was certainly less pessimistic about my chances of success. in the staff room i met colin the percussionist and drank coffee. later that day a voice down a phone line told me that i was employed again.

the wedding was fine but the food was bad. we slipped a side long glance to the families there. and piled away in the mud. out of the dress code i larked for an age on what seemed like many different golf courses in gale force. worry and confusion my companion. doubledup stitches and creasing for my own.