6.00pm Cup of tea. Geoffrey has literal thought, so universe ends. However, just in time, Liz has written limerick, which, because impermanent, remains.
There once was a thinker eccentric
Whose discourse was phallogocentric
But outside the conventionalism
Of author-intentionalism
We need not enquire if he meant it.
("This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper.")
Loops. (Strange?)
1.35pm Geoffrey returns specifically to watch culturally limited Antipodean drama, having satisfied himself that the facts are where he left them (approximately, i.e. in writing). Liz stays around socially. Simon mad.
2.00pm Simon mad. Has cup of tea. Liz listening to Shostakovich, which (unfortunately for Geoffrey) isn't accessible. Geoffrey retaliates with Abba and more "facts".
3.00pm Simon has cup of tea. (Mad.) Geoffrey still at the "facts". Liz by this time trying to fit "phallogocentrism" into a limerick.
4.00pm Simon has mad cup of tea. Geoffrey has "real" cup of tea. Liz has cup of coffee with deconstructed subjectivity (cheaper than biscuit). Universe born. God names (significantly) "God" as the father. Universe thus procreated in the relation of text and metatext.
5.00pm Cup of tea mad. Simon drinks it anyway. Universe, as suspected, turns out to be the metaphoricity of a metaphor.
A guide to viewing — what's on at 39 William St
0900 All is still
0915 All is still still
0930 Geoffrey arises, breaks his fast, mends it again and departs — destination Bod (repeated same time tomorrow)
1045 Liz awakes and has a bath (repeated same time every day)
1100 Simon gets up
1145 Liz, having finished her ablutions, sits self in living room for breakfast
1245 Having sat for an hour, written gibber in the book and had breakfast, it's now time for lunch (also available in zebra)
1335 Despite protestations, Liz stays resolutely glued to her seat for Neighbours.
— to be continued
I sometimes think one never goes to bed
But sings "The Red Flag" in a hat instead
And certainly if a census were conducted
The living are outnumbered by the dead.
And each invigorating walk we take
Down here on earth for very boredom's sake
May cause a hurricane to be concocted
Or someone up on Mars to bake a cake.
A meteorologist, while drinking gin
Happened to see the Apocalypse begin
Eschatological weather forecast!
"Light showers, and fire and brimstone in King's Lynne."
For every trope the poet has invented
So many problems have been circumvented
That God might almost seem to take a hand —
The transcendental signifier has repented.
Spool.
He thought he saw an Argument
That proved he was a Goat,
He looked again and found it was
A mildewed overcoat.
"That's not so bad!" he said (quite mad)
And shoved it down his throat.
He thought he saw a cabbage-patch
Descending from the moon,
He looked again and found it was
A green and mauve baboon.
"A puzzling sight, if I see right!"
Exclaimed that mad buffoon.
There once were some horrible gibbons
Who enjoyed tearing people to ribbons
They went through a bad patch
When they met with their match
Having stumbled upon Bernard Cribbins.
Quite suddenly panic ensued
When the wings from the pigs came unglued
They descended together
Like birds without feathers
With numerous greenness endued.
A signwriter outside a pub
Was hit by a man with a club.
"It's just that I've seen
You need more space between
The words 'Lion' and 'And' and 'And' and 'Cub'."
There once was an oven of toothpaste
And microwave, igloo and roof space
O the metatext rhymes
In a sign of the times
But it isn't really in good taste.
(Just to demonstrate that I can tell the différance...)
[ There was once a young lad from Penzance
Who was after a bit of romance
So he took a big chance
And asked "her" to dance
But it turned out that she was from France
There was once an old bloke of Vienna
Who'd churn out psychology for a tenner,
His name was Sig Freud
And he really enjoyed
Sex with a new Kenwood Blender
It was the strain on the fish
That turned me in brain
That and the absence of sane.
