The cartoons and characters of Robert Crumb helped to define an age for me. Fritz the Cat, Mr Natural, Big Brother's Cheap Thrills LP cover, all became part of the crazy visual language of the late 60s and early 70s.
Monday 22 September 2008
Robert Crumb
The cartoons and characters of Robert Crumb helped to define an age for me. Fritz the Cat, Mr Natural, Big Brother's Cheap Thrills LP cover, all became part of the crazy visual language of the late 60s and early 70s.
Sunday 14 September 2008
St Mary's Street
In 1970 I moved into a small and insanitary flat at the bottom of St Mary's Steet, Edinburgh, with friends Simon and Janie. I seem to remember that on arrival between us we had four LPs, all Simon's. They were The Yes Album, Layla, It's A Beautiful Day, and Messaien's Turangalila Suite.
Janie, who moved out to live with her future husband shortly afterwards, had the only real bedroom. I had a room with a small window out onto the common stair (which as it was regularly used as overnight living quarters by rejects from the Salvation Army hostel opposite smelt strongly of many unpleasant things) while Simon basically slept in a cupboard.
In a search for stylish living I acquired a small white spherical television, which I suspended on a long chain from the living room ceiling. And which never quite stopped revolving thereafter, meaning that a lot of shifting was required to watch a programme all the way through. However, as the reception was terrible anyway, the sacrifice was not too great.
At an early stage Simon taught me to make chilli con carne, a valuable skill.
Janie, who moved out to live with her future husband shortly afterwards, had the only real bedroom. I had a room with a small window out onto the common stair (which as it was regularly used as overnight living quarters by rejects from the Salvation Army hostel opposite smelt strongly of many unpleasant things) while Simon basically slept in a cupboard.
In a search for stylish living I acquired a small white spherical television, which I suspended on a long chain from the living room ceiling. And which never quite stopped revolving thereafter, meaning that a lot of shifting was required to watch a programme all the way through. However, as the reception was terrible anyway, the sacrifice was not too great.
At an early stage Simon taught me to make chilli con carne, a valuable skill.
Not telling stories
I had a much-loved aunt, to whom it was almost impossible to tell a story, particularly a funny story, because of her habit of asking literal questions. "So, there was this man in a pub..." someone would begin. "Why was he there?" she would ask, intent to know the answer. "Well, he'd just gone in to have a drink or something. It doesn't really matter, you know. He was just in the pub. Anyway, another man walks in with an alligator under one arm..." "Good Heavens, would that be safe? Are alligators allowed in pubs? Was it a live one?" "Yes, it was a live alligator. And he puts it down on the bar..." "Didn't the barman object to that? I'm sure an alligator on the bar wouldn't be very hygienic." "He was a very tolerant barman apparently. So, the man puts down the alligator..." "And he wasn't worried about it falling off?" "No, it was a very sensible alligator" "... and turns to the crowd in the pub..." "So there were lots of people in there, then?" "Yes, a lot of people. And he unzips his fly..." "Good heavens! Did he really?" "Yes, he really did, and then he..."
And so the story would lurch on, from one interjection to the next, often coming to a complete stop before the end as the complexity of explaining the logic became too much. I loved it and miss her greatly.
And so the story would lurch on, from one interjection to the next, often coming to a complete stop before the end as the complexity of explaining the logic became too much. I loved it and miss her greatly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)