Hasn't felt like a Sunday today at all. I was in the studio getting stuff ready for this east show.

Went down to the Barras to get some materials. Pairs of flippers to be exact. But the wee man with the box of flippers is wising up because I'm sure he charged me more for them today.

Other exciting things at the world famous Barras market this Sunday: A young girl who went hysterical. Like totally fucking exploded. I thought that some random piece of machinery had chopped her hand off or a telly had fallen on her head or something. But no, her brother had jumped out at her with a scary mask on. I was looking at these old picture frames thinking, -Thank fuck I'm not hungover or I couldn't have handled this. She sounded like she was trying to summon demons while her dad who obviously owned the stall was going, -Fucksake man she's cleared the whole fuckin place.

Then I saw this old guy who used to be the sort of factor for the bedsits where I used to live. He was a beadie-eyed, skeletal old bastard with white hair and dry skin like paper. He spoke in a barely audible rasp and used to try to get me to paint squirrels onto bits of wood for his nephew. I couldn't stand the fucker. But I had to humour him on account of him being the landlord's right hand man. And the landlord was an ex-boxer turned entrepreneur of the gangster variety (with a slight twitch). The electricity was controlled by one of those old meters and I quickly sussed how to take the front off and crank up loads of credit with a single coin and a knife. But I'd always be listening out for old Eddie snooping around or wondering if my meter was ever suspiciously low on cash. Because obviously, the landlord was not to be fucked with. And neither, apparently, was the electricity meter. During one of these routine operations I decided to investigate its inner working further. I poked a couple of interesting looking wires with the knife and received a fairly significant electric shock.

That was a few years ago now and I've stayed in a number of flats since then. Occasionally, in absent minded moments, old Eddie would drift back into my mind and I would think, 'I wonder if he's dead yet'. Apparently not it would seem.

Navigating the Barras can be a hazardous and frustrating affair. It is normal to move around at a maddeningly slow pace because the people in front of you (and there's always a sea of people) either: a. Have a limp/walking stick/crutch/wooden leg. b. Are carrying some massively proportioned object of indefinite nature at a dangerous angle. c. Are stupefied on hard drugs. d. Any combination of the above.

Today was no different. So I bought my flippers and got outta there like I stole something.


Yesterday was a bit of a write-off due to the hangover caused by the degree show festivities the night before. Which made for a most enjoyable evening. Although it went in fast forward because I got drunk quite early.

Posi
V Twin playing School's Out For Summer.

Nega
Self-important artist trying to patronise me. Trying. (Guys like that must have wee willies or something).

The highlight though was seeing my good friend Skylar again. He's over in Los Angeles doing the MFA course at UCLA. We shared a studio at art school and we used to have a really good laugh. We hung out yesterday which was great and he told me how he had recently skinned a rattlesnake.

All in all a good weekend. Now I am going to have a bath and read a book.
Posted on Burning Salad on Sun 22nd Jun, 6:09 am
http://www.gregorwright.com/salad/hey/14/