CosmiKnot

The great T.V. experiment of the late twentieth century is over. That little white dot on your screen Has finally popped Nothing Will fix it

Last night my wife left me. She went out and I was thus alone to watch the television. This morning she asked how my evening was “did you watch bottom face”? This I understood was DCI Banks the man who regularly pulls a face like a face that knows that it looks like a bottom. Yes I did after dabbling with a movie on the x-box Love Film ap I plumped for the soothing immersive experience of terrestrial television. I feel connected to my fellow citizens when I watch one of the first five channels. Even on hd. ITV eh? I can never fully shed the feeling that they make the TV programs that are the equivalent of Top of The Pops covers albums from the seventies. Last night the new lady detective played an admirable cover version of the lead actress in The Bridge. We, the viewer, think she is perhaps autistic and unable to bond with colleagues and yet is still remarkabley efficient at her job. In the Bridge this picture is painted slowly and with real depth but in the DCI Banks co...

The great T.V. experiment of the late twentieth century is over. That little white dot on your screen Has finally popped Nothing Will fix it Not even a good slap on the side with an open palm The static is no more The furthest reaches of the cosmos are on the brink Of being mapped Front rooms are all arse about tit As partners unwind Furiously masterbating in downstairs bathrooms Over hard core clips Civilisation is completely completed The great television adventure has ended Roll the credits, cue the music Prepare not to dance There is no more darkness Only blinding light And retina burning displays Oh come back Neolithic Marshall Join me in the forest of the night And let us go then you and I Hiding together Ready to leap out when Next there is a power cut.

One of the benefits of being sick for a month is that you get to live in a muted hinterland. It's great you too can feel just like one of Virginia Woolf's dissenters. Just now I went to the local hospital for a blood test. The building, a gargantuan Victorian edifice designed by Edward Gorey (I swear), is handily close and is unoccupied apart from a woman inside a tiny reception hatch and the blood testing people about a quarter of a mile away down an airless corridor. Having experienced the performance art comedy of the receptionist yesterday (fork handles, parrots and so on) I glided swiftly to the blood sampling area. This place really has been like they were closing it down for the last five years and could easily provide an extremely convincing set for anyone interested in making a zombie film set in an abandoned hospital where a hypochondriac wanders in believing himself to be in a legitimate National Health institution but then finds his mind filling u...

The truth is there is something about “ Verity ” Damien Hirst’s newly installed 65ft seaside saucy statue. That something may well turn out to be truly terrible but that sword held aloft to the elements “by the power of grey skull” prods my old grey matter.  That dank old cavern whence my soul has fled. Like Verity, Hirst stands out on the craggy coastline of British art. There is no missing him. After being lost in the first Freeze show he swore he would never be missed again. I have a suspicion that the "something” that bothers me could be distilled to one word. “Naff”. That Princess Anne endorsed phrase that is in itself… well… naff. There’s a wrong end of the stickness to it. Like that creepy Dr. Hagen Das who freezes people. Oooh look we’re all flesh and blood and will one day die but we stand defiant in the face of everything nature can throw at us. Admirable sentiments. But still a bit embarrassing. But hey that’s good isn’t it? I’m challenged into being embarrassed...

My Museum of Unfiltered Reality is over here .