A trifle deaf

Had a pretty bizarre day today.

Poems, Cider and TV cameras seemed to be the theme of my day.

I'm having some issues with my memory. I keep thinking of things that I'm going to write on this thing, then when it comes down to it. I get a mental block.

So this is an extract from my notebook. Which I wrote after a few Irish Ciders... (In no particular chronology).

"Crazy girl in the poetry place. She just stood up, infront of the crowd and began to put innumerable pieces of bubble gum into her mouth. With which she then proceeded to blow bubbles with said gum. Now, I'm all for art and freedom of expression - But that just weirded me out.

Ok, now the girl who has been sat next to be for the whole time (who i've probably been incessantly annoying with the creaking of my leather jacket), has gotten up and is now doing some poetry about 'perspective'. I like the way she projects herself. It's good. Why am I suddenly into this? She is wearing glasses and a wonderful purple top. I kind of want to play some Sudoku - but that's probably equally as rude as me writing this crap in my notebook.

Mike stole a spoon without realising it. He felt bad, so he thought about taking it back - but didn't. So we ate Emma's trifle in an O'Neils pub."