First, an odd dream last night.
I was taking part in Celebrity Big Brother, but I felt ill, and so was running late. I joined the cast late and remained quiet and unconfident. One other contestant was Tracey Emin, and she remarked that she had hoped that I'd be a fellow artist companion, but that in reality I was not artistic. I felt irked and slighted, but held my tongue. One challenge was to apply fake tan, and many of the contestants did, and one put tanning cream on my face. It was white and porridge-like, and it covered my face rather than tanning it. Later, my right arm erupted in horrid haemorrhoid-like lumps, then at my joints other huge oblique lumps like mussel shells. I said that I had smallpox and everyone ran from me. We tried to contact the people in charge of the show, to escape, to seek treatment, but we could find nobody. The place seemed to be a like a huge warehouse, with cupboards of equipment inside, but no people.
I then awoke.
A full day of little jobs. Started by writing yet another enquiry about why, after at least 6 weeks (the painting was sold in January), I've not been paid by The Macc Art Lounge for my painting sale. This is a continual source of annoyance. It may be rudeness on their part, it may be incompetence, or even (doubtfully) malevolence, but it could also be innocence misunderstood due to a lack of communication (albeit an inexcusable lack, in my opinion). I must think well of Ché, but the situation is not good, and I have and would never treat someone I owe money to in this way. Never. There comes a point where someone is so unreliable that they become impossible to work with. This threshold has been passed.
Then, assembling some poems for the Morecambe Poetry Festival Anthology, which is calling for submissions at the moment. I wrote a new poem for it, but it was rather dark, and although on the theme of rebirth, was not (I judged) the sort of thing for this, so I send a few older and unpublished poems of greater brilliance.
Then, new rehearsals of 'Hitler in High Heels' and 'Passive Aggressive' for Tuesday's open mic event. This time things worked brilliantly and sounded great. I tried to perform a completely unplugged version of 'Hitler', but it sounded much better with a backing track. I can play a few extra parts live, and am playing the main bass, the organs (and adding more to the intro), and electric lead. I've also played organs for the 'men or women' part at the end, which improves it a bit. It's odd how, sometimes, a live version can be different from, and better than, a recording in terms of composition (not mere expression). This is interesting.
All is set for tomorrow.
I/we was/were sent some photos of Saturday's event in Winsford by the wonderful and wonderfully nice photographer Peter Robinson, who was there taking pictures for the organiser, Motherwell CIC:
Then, work on Mister Moan. The intro melody, which was a piano, was changed to a flute, and I added a violin too. It took a long time to work out these instruments, then work of the music itself, which played between some strings and the flute, a double melody. I removed the section between the first and second verse, and added the strings, flutes, and violins to the rest. For the first 'chorus' (it's not really a chorus) I added a piano to the shuddering sforzando strings, then switched this for the second chorus and made the pianos march while playing the piano part in pizzicato strings.
At 13:30 Deb and I went out for a break, on this, the first sunny day of the coming spring. I bought an amazing bargain of some leather shoes for £8, which were once £55, then reduced to £25, then to £20, then to £10, and today to £8. Both smart and a perfect fit, I was lucky that this last pair were in my size.
Finally, changes to the Mister Moan tempo. I like to change the speed subtely with most songs, as this is a crucial way to create mood. A steady regular march always sounds robotic; though this can be useful, depending on the tune. 'Hitler in High Heels' works well with a robotic march for example, and I recall that Phil Collins' Mama used sequenced drums for this reason, to create a feeling of relentlessness.
