but Hallelujah
...

as written by LEONARD COHEN
as sung by JEFF BUCKLEY

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is this really our 901st vehicle for obscure communication? has I,LTV's profile really had 5,999 views? has the musical ♪♫ b♥x really had 13,953 page loads in the few short months it's been here?
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crikey. . . what is the world coming to?

could it be magic?

my magic carpet
has been a little threadbare recently

to put it mildly

the warp threads have broken in places
and the weft thinner
and lacking in the colours and textures than I'd like. . .

but it's all part
of life's rich tapestry,
and life goes on. . .

so today we're going on a little trip:
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roll up for the mystery tour!

(not that the machinations of the organ in my head
should be a mystery to you lovely people by now)

gather round. . .


John William Waterhouse

one of my favourite English painters,
a pre-Raphaelite (I love the pre-Raphaelites)

shall we just take a look at a couple more of his paintings
before we get back to the subject of the day?

yes, I think so


most people are familiar with The Lady of Shalott. . .

both painting and poem, from which a stanza:
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There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

(nice that that ties in with the warp and weft or earlier, huh!)

and here are some breasts,
especially for vicus:

oh and while we're in the 1880s, or thereabouts,
let's take a peak at my favourite John Singer Sargent:

Carnation Lily Lily Rose

but we're getting sidetracked. . .
back to the magic:

and we'll move smoothly on from
one of my favourite childhood television shows
- The Magic Roundabout -
to another:

that's Mr Benn, for the uninitiated

(and it just so happens that
the guy who wrote Mr Benn
lived a few roads along from where I find myself
- but that's entirely coincidental)

for those who haven't made Mr Benn's aquaintance,
he was a soberly suited man
who would visit a costume shop and choose a costume, where
"as if by magic"
- once he had put the costume on -
he would be transported to another land and time
for a rather splendid adventure

(the man in the fez is the owner of the shop,
who would provide sartorial advice to Mr Benn)

so, if you got be be Mr Benn for today,
which costume would you choose?!

(answers on the back of a postcard to the usual address)

now, just change the second consonant,
and we go from
magic to magpie

and there's nothing wrong with
a slice of good pie
eveverynowandagain

bon apetit!

and to finish, I'd just like to add
.

and I truly hope that
your day, dear reader
has more than a little magic in it

as flat as a proverbial

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and no, I'm not referring to my breasts. . .
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(but while we're on the subject, perhaps we'll contemplate it for a while. . .)
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( . . .and I feel perfectly comfortable doing that because since Saturday evening I have been accompanied to the loo and bathroom everytime nature has called or I've needed a wash and brush up)

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(I had told them I pushed the blades down the plughole) (which I had done, seeing as at the time I didn't think I'd be using the bathroom again and didn't want anyone else to get hurt by mistake) (but seeing as how I wasn't supposed to have blades in the first place you can hardly blame them for wanting to make sure I don't find some other way to do something that they don't want me to do)

..

(the only reason I had a blade in the first place was cos I'd asked XCH if he could bring me a lady-shave as my underarms were looking slightly like a bush [and I knew I wasn't allowed a razor, which is why I'd asked for a lady-shave] but only being a bloke he didn't know the difference and so brought me a pink girly razor from home. . .)
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(at the time my head was so screwed up by the non-dominant-unilateral-ECT I'd had on Friday [the bilateral procedure producing too many memory issues for TGD to be comfortable with] that I kind of thought it was providence) (of sorts) (obviously the fact they say I am seriously depressed must have played a part too, right? for me to want to pop the little blades out of the razor and slice up the inside of my arm and the back of my hand) (the back of my hand cut went straight into an artery and blood spurted right up and out of me and across the bathroom to the wall on the other side) (just like it does in the films) (the inside of my arm slicing proved more difficult, I only managed to get to a few veins, and my veins are crap and just pack up at the slightest interference anyhow, as many a phlebotomist has found over the years) (the thick white thing I thought was the artery that the silly little blade wouldn't cut thru, was a tendon, apparently) (I only studied Head & Neck and Chest Anatomy at Uni) where was I? oh, I know. . .

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a body is only a body, we've all got them, there's nothing special about mine, and seeing as how it might have made its way into the ground by now, via a crematorium, I have no problem with someone joining me in the bathroom

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but that wasn't what I was going to say

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what I was going to say was that the dose of the new drug that they put me on at the weekend, which apparently is a "mood stabilizer", and which had actually vaguely enhanced (in a +ve manner) my mood by Monday, has been increased with the result that my mood has stabilized to a flatness equivalent to Table Mountain

..

(I did have a nice piccie of Table Mountain, only blogger's playing silly buggers tonight) (I also had a picture of a salt lake in Bolivia that's equally flat, but that wouldn't load that either) (so you're stuck with the Nazca Plains. . .)
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I'll skip the more obvious comments about aliens and Erik Von Daniken and just apologise for the fact I'm probably coming across as a little bit grumpy and lacklustre and haven't really had the energy to visit you (yes you!) and say something amusing or interesting (she writes, hoping that that's what she normally does) but presumably at some stage in the not too distant future they'll get the meds right and I'll be back to my old self

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or a new version of her

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and in the meantime, just be pleased that you're not a member of the 24hour care staff who has to watch and be present at my every action - the food in here is gruesome
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(and the management don't provide pegs for noses)

dylan, the crazy rabbit

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le manege enchante

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