"Shit" said Sean Noccery as he grappled with the little girl, "I was only trying to give you a lift home, and now you run away into the woods like this."
And as the school bell rang, Sean attempted to pick her up from the ground, but she said to him: "My daddy and his friends hurt people like you, mister."
And then Sean did say "SHIT" again, except louder, for they were from Glasgow, which frightened him.
And then gritting his teeth, and reddening in the shame of his sextagenarian lust, Sean thought very quickly :
Oh no! I've floundered in the woodies,
Handling now the student goodies,
For my obsession grows with fanny
I am ashamed! A filthy mannie!
The ruins of Inverugie Castle lie on the north bank of the Ugie, about two miles from Peterhead. Inverugie stands on a slight eminence, with the river winding round it on three sides, the banks being finely wooded.
A legend says that Inverugie's name is properly ‘Pot Sunk Ann’, as it’s said that one of the Earls of Keith married Ann, a daughter of Crawford, Laird of Fedderat and that after a year of marriage, she was warned in a dream to leave the house.
Anne was said to have left the castle in the midst of a fearsome storm, and guided by the same treacherous spirit that visited her dreams, she was drowned in an attempt to cross the swollen river.
In the words of the ballad Old Inverugie:
She screamed for help, but none was near,
No succour to implore;
She floated to the eddie neuk,
Then sunk to rise no more.
And to this day that fatal spot
Is known to many man,
And rustic neighbours point the spot,
And tell you ‘There Sunk Ann’.
Palinarus stands for a certain will-to-failure, perhaps a repugnance to success, a desire to give up at the last moment, an urge towards loneliness, isolation and obscurity. Palinarus, in spite of his great ability and his conspicuous public position, deserted his post at the moment of victory, and opted for the unknown share …
It has been raining for five days - The Aberdeen Eveing Express claims worst February in the recorded meteorological history of the city - and everyone in the town is depressed about the true picture of things terrestrial. The rain stopped but Newmachar was cut off and the road to Milltimber flooded, Dyce flooded &c... so Donald and I stepped out to relieve our spirits. We rose this morning, in beautiful sunshine, and it seemed to us spring was here, and so we smoked a pipe and a reefer and exited the flat for to view the architecture of Aberdeen in the radiant glory of the sun, before grubbing around stoned in the second hand bookshops. It is later in the day, and Donald has gone and I have calmed down. These are my spring days, repeated annually now...
What dynamism in our forebears!
Why, then, have we inherited so little of their pep, their defiant, demonic propulsion?
Have we been short-changed genetically, a gamete short of a character?
Not only could our grandparents out-stroll, out-write and out-work us, but they did it with such animal virility that it pales even our pasty, anaemic countenances that little bit more to think of trying to equal them in action.
What did they have that we lack?
What escaped transmission to us, or was it lost in the translation?
I have an idea, but only that.
A tentative, undogmatic notion that I am scarecly strong enough humbly to propose.
I get so tired you see ....
I sling from the waist with pawing, but I don't just sit here drawing. Next time I plan to release the beasts I'll give you a call first. But not this time because there'll be no warning. People flip, switch, some turn fake about some nonsense correspondence that I just can't relate to. Or they go mad in their cars. The word cashflow sounds funny to me but if you can watch money change hands then it doesn't matter what type or range of shit you talk cause you ain't got to prove that life twists and turns and makes you crazy to make it work. Flip people flip, take switch, some turn fake about their true and inner centre, when it's cows that have given them this dementia.
Far ere's slurry ere's sillar? Nae here. Boyndlie is an estate as opposed to a village, or you might like to picture it as a scattered community of farms and other houses.
Boyndlie House lies about six miles SW of Faserburgh, and is a seat of a branch of the Forbes family - although I know the family as being called Ogilvie-Forbes, as have been for at least a century.
The content and purpose of dreams are not definitively understood, though they have been a topic of scientific speculation and a subject of philosophical and religious interest throughout recorded history:
Free cinema : in an open field we approached the screen, through rows of racked chairs. Close to the screen I met the lead actor, a real stiff-jaw, he stood way up above me. The actor was able to look over my head he was so tall. The field was filling with audience, and there were chunks of snow left on the ground. I turned to speak to some people I knew, the three most intelligent boys from school. The three boys sat on one seat and had their school blazers stuffed with library books. I walked further back; I had lost the friends I arrived with. Also, there were no safe seats left in the field, and this was out of many thousand. Most of the seats seemed to be sinking in the mud and melting snow. I left for the town, which was dark, and full of circular terraces, where one would descend and then reappear. I found that the best way to get back to the field was through a primary school, but I was escorted out of here, and taken to the seaside. Dawn, and the film was over. The snow even, was much melted, and I had missed everything. Passing up the opportunity for fried foods from a shack, I walked along the sea front, to look for my friends.
For Ten Years This Important Image Lay on the Homepage of My Website
to survive a destructive book is no less painful
for the reader than for the author
LF Celine: Voyage to the End of the Night / Death on Credit / Guignol's Band / Rigadon
Wyndham Lewis: Men Without Art / The Complete Wild Body / The Apes of God
Giacomo Leopardi: Operette Morali
Thomas Bernhard: The Loser / The Voice Imitator / Extinction / Gathering Evidence / Wittgenstein's Nephew
PART ONE: Lord Justice-Clerk Ormiston was called the Curse of Scotland. And when the Ladies were at Cards, the Nine of Diamonds (also commonly called the Curse of Scotland) was known to them as The Justice Clerk. In the 18th century in Scotland, the nine of diamonds was considered to be the most unlucky card in the deck.
Ormiston was one of the Commissioners promoted to inquire into the Massacre of Glencoe on 28 May 1695, and he became unpopular because of the powers awarded to his position in order for him to reach conclusions in the muderous affair. In February 1699 he succeeded Lord Raith as Treasurer-depute of Scotland, which he retained until the accession of Queen Anne, when he was dismissed from all his offices.
Later however, he obtained a commission appointing him a second time as Lord Justice Clerk, dated 8 January 1705, and was at the same time appointed to succeed Lord Whitelaw as a Lord Ordinary in the Court of Session, a place he retained until his death, in his 79th year.
The connection between Ormiston and the playing card is surely rooted in Glencoe. If you need reminding, John Dalrymple, 1st Earl of Stair was Scottish lowland noble who convinced King William to sign an order to extirpate the clan McDonald in a heinous event known as the Massacre of Glencoe. Extirpate here meaning something like — root out and destroy.
Scotland was outraged, especially when King William absolved both himself and the Earl of any wrongdoing. The Dalrymple coat of arms features nine diamonds arranged like the playing card, so it is very likely that the nine of diamonds became associated with the much-hated Dalrymple.
Now Read PART TWO.
Naff Dress Code
"Potomas Porch", "Horsey House" and "Lama Lodge" are still available
FLIGHT PATHS OF MAJOR AIRPORTS
Germane Auditories, Obverse Excuses for exploitation,
(with Minor devils)
And being a flourishing branch of the noble family of, we will also be performing
(with all night)
Bones, Hairs, Nails and Teeth
The Northern declivity of the hill of Parkhouse is called Aikey Brae or Yackie Brae. In the 1980s there was a play by The Invisible Bouncers, the theatre group of Alastair McDonald, called Pinky Brae, and it was an exceptional hit, at least in the North East. I'm trying to track down some stuff about the play at the present.
The name Aikey Brae is supposed to have derived from the aiks (oaks) of the area, which once clad the hill. Another idea is that the hill claims its name from Achaicus (or Yochock) a Pictish King.
Until the 20th century, the Aiky Fair was still held in the area, and marked with the removal of the relics of Achaicus’ brother, St Drostan, from Aberdour to Deer, on the third Wednesday in July.
On Aikey Brae, it is said one of the Earls of Buchan fell from his horse at hunting, and was killed. The facts of the case state that this happened because the earl had called Thomas the Rhymer, the great prognosticator, Thomas the Lyer.
Though Thomas the Lyar thou call’st me,
A sooth tale I shall tell to thee
By Aiky-side thy horse shall ride,
He shall stumble and thou shalt fa’;
Thy neck-bane shall break in twa,
And maugre all thy kin and thee,
Thy own belt thy bier shall be.
To say that language in art and letters have been stunted is very true. It’s not that there’s a lack of eyes to look at pictures, and not that there’s a surfeit of people talking about them, or people reading books, but there is now a self-consciousness which demands improvement on a weekly basis.
When in conversation, one notes that one must say not simply what one feels, but what one considers to be brighter than what has come before. It’s a constant fight out there. A competition is raging, and it’s adjudicated by people who think the brain is for the rational snapping of the jaw, and that ideas are for dissection. The fact is that speech is the ideal that shows us what we are.
All of this, I became skilful at avoiding, but only through the indulgent twisting up of words — I called it my writing! Liska was naturally never a part of it. She couldn’t have taken a part if she had wanted to, she could never produce any of that verbal twat that makes our civilisation as arid as it is.
Liska’s work defied criticism because she defied viewers. Artistically, she and I are the end of the process. We are both speculators, and we both lack ideas. In our work, there are no concepts, just as there is nothing high and nothing guarded. She paints and I write, and these are the ends in themselves. It is as if we couldn’t be bothered with anything, else, any of the shit and smack of the media, of sales, of having websites, twitter feeds, anything that made us a part of that grand, public popularity contest ....
Dear Fellow English Speaker,
An ominous spectre has arisen over the sunlit valleys and mountains of SCOCHIA. This week's decision by the Scots Parliament to promote the speaking of "Scotch" through the indoctrination of children in public schools is but one more tyrannical step to the eradication of the biblical norm of heterosexual relationships and English speaking family life, centred around beef and good detective fiction.
The radical Scotch lobby, under the guise of egalitarian blather, seeks domination over all competing value systems which deem their morally anarchic behaviour repulsive, reprehensible, and beyond the cope of normative and wholesome deportment. Scotch Governor and Spaverman Stovies Duffus MSP, a leading activist for the bill, is eager to sign the same into law. With the stroke of his pen, the heavy hand of Stovies Duffus will attempt to win converts to, and propagate the mission of perversion by introducing the raddled Scotch into the queen's pure tongue, and by doing it HARD.
It was a bright autumn day and at the River Tay near Perth, I hung my feet. White cloud warmed the day as the breeze trembled upon the strange images below me in the water, and this was the sight, past St Stephen's Well, beside the rudest magic of the braying animals, that I recalled the happy years of my youth.
It was in this arcadia I heard several machines approach, and an unnatural fray of luxury-style business men forced upward a great cloud as they rose from nothing in their chariots, causing the kine to run and bellow in desperate anguish. The cars rode down the slope and threw darkness behind them. The shepherd fell aside and the vehicles rammed through his flock with colder mercy than a mudslide of broken stone, and I took to my feet as the world fell to this noise of war.
Broken people stared within the great upturned swathes of their homeland, where the tarmac rolled black over the wild flowers, and there in the wake behind the cars, was left great doubt, great greed, great noise, and several brochures saying that a twelve year anti corrosion warranty, together with major service intervals and a comprehensive customer care package, could all be mine, provided I chose to sell my soul and opt for the burred wood gear lever knob and the Votex 7 spoke alloy wheels, the colour keyed front and rear bumpers and front centre arm rest (exclusive of fleet management fees, sale assistance and leaseback). *
* A full range of credit facilities are available, ranging from Death on a Stick to Purloin Purchasing agreements linked to a variable Finance House base rate, using current Shit Adjustment Tables, while you operate your vehicle privately, and go mental at the wheel, allowing you great peace of mind, and a wide choice of mileages, to satisfy your rampant outward urge, as you attach yourself firmly to the aluminum trim strips, opt for retractable rear centre lap belts, front bumper integrated cockie covers, wankie washers, rear screen aerials, Sienna upholstery, Competition-Standard alloy nut and beef toppings, and automatic handbag release.