Coupla posts back, I wrote <my films> when I meant <my dreams>.

Same difference, really. I coulda written <my kampf> and nobody would've noticed. The suburbs dream of violence, as it says on the last page of JG Ballard's last and final novel.

Do you dream in Flash?
Does your cortex have spam protection?
What ideas have they put in your head?

I *was* thinking of Self-Portrait -- but you're right, he's not doing self-parody. He's mangling standards like Blue Moon, which is different.

Now that I think about it, Dylan never really churned out stuff in an earlier style. If anything, he annoys and mystifies fans by reworking classic songs.

<Visions of b4>

Ain't it just like the Knight to play tricks when you're trying to attack? Your pieces are stranded and all the ones forward come back. And Louise holds a handful of pawns tempting you just to count 'em. But if they were Knights, she'd never invite you to mount 'em ...

Clocks tick at an adjacent table
But your horses have bolted the stable
The board is some dead ancient fable
Like seeing yourself busted on cable
As they pin on your 'IDIOT' label
You get it: you just aren't able ...

"Bow-tie Daddy don't you lose your cool
Cos you think you're getting too old
Bow-tie Daddy don't you act the fool
Cos you think you're losing control...
Don't try to do no thinkin'
Just go on with your drinkin'
Just have your fun
You old son of a gun
And drive home in your Lincoln."

[so much for Dad, but Mom didn't escape ...]

"You paint your head
Your mind is dead
You don't understand
What I just said.
That's you, American womanhood."

[of course lots of 60s rockers attacked their parents' generation -- Zappa stood out by attacking 'The Kids' as well ...]

"I will go to San Francisco and join a band ... I will hang around street corners in the Haight with my hair down to my knees ... I will join a rock band and catch crabs but I entirely don't care ..."

[or]

"You see them every day
In a world of their own
To some it might seem creepy what they do;
The nabors on the right
Sit and watch them every night
I'd bet you'd do the same if they was you."

[these are from memory, so may be scrambled beyond recognition ... the after-effects of <Libra, Solidi, Denarii> no doubt, still Her Britannic Majesty's currency, more or less ... as Viv Stanshall & the Bonzos sang ...]

"You've heard of Ali Baba
Forty thieves had he
Out for what we all want
- losts of LSD."

A. Yes, it is.

Q. Isn't this the wrong way around?

+

Q. Why is a Welsh stallion stabled in Weston-Super-Mare like a shopping trolley?

A. Both have to be dug out of the Mare.

+

Q. What is the Meaning of Liff?

A. The sound of ... a sunburned thigh leaving a plastic, er, chair?

Q. Wrong, that's a Skibbereen. The correct answer is ... [turns to audience] ... ??

Audience: Forty Two!!

Q. Incorrect. That's the meaning of 'Life'. A Liff is a Welsh elevator.

+

A. Get me out of here.

Q. Is electricity fire?

+

Q. How long is a piece of string?

A. About *this* long.

+

Q. Is the North Pole surrounded by barf ?

- He sounds desperate. What's the story? Mania?

"Madge I want your body¨"
"Harry get back!"
"Madge it´s not only physical."
"Harry you´re a beast"

"What's the ugliest part of your body?
Some say your nose
Some say your toes
- I think it's your mind."

Just imagine speaking to Madonna like that ...

"Madge, I want your body"

- You and whose army, buster?

"Madge, it's not merely physical. Madge, I want your body"

- Creepo. Over my cold dead b---. Oh. I see-eeee. Well, honey, that changes everything, where do we start, mind if I disrobe right here? Move along the couch, kiddo, and throw out that -- June 1972? Is that a joke? -- old pizza.

"Madge, I want your body for my next pizza."

- But, but, but I'm a vegetarian ...

Point is. G-d's truth. I wrote my version of <Ain't it just like the Knight> before even glancing at the Brixton + Streatham thing. Honest to Clapton.

As I see it, we can only admit the truth -- either or both of us -- by conceding that the pun in question was bleedin' obvious, to the point of not even requiring an Implied Bimbo to work. But to concede that is to concede absence of genius, and that way mundanity lies.

"So question my sanity
Probe my mundanity
Ask what it is that I hide
Put an old movie on
Antediluvian
Write down the scenes where I cried.
Pragmatism, Dogmatism
Dadaism, Yadda-Yaddaism,
South London chess, a conceptual mess,
Systems of thought with a kink
... and there's no time to drink...

Well that's the most flabbergasting output of quality dense material you've put together- well- ever, maybe.

Whence the creativity all of a sudden?

You must remember that a "piece back up the road" you were not here. Well you were reading here, but "You" weren't here.

(I put the quotation marks around you, "you," because I know you like that kind of thing).

Ok I hope I didn't offend you by trying to hoist you by your own sitar.

I'd like to think I wouldn't to that to you. Or to <Ravi Shankar> for that matter.

Yes, I was a bit stung by the "missing quack," but as you pointed out, you never did quack.

You did, however, race with me to 300.

On <not length/quality determinate count>.

I think I felt a bit sheepish- well no, more duckish-- after reading your post about how much I *did* care about getting the most pages in *my* forum.

I hope *you* understand. Sorry <Dom>!

I will not send you <lousy love> any more in <David Bowie parodies>.

Also, how in blue blazes do you have such detailed knowledge of <British Columbia> geography, and more astounding, perhaps, its attendent social mores?

You have it cold. Dead on.

Look I love your long posts. Attempting to decipher them has long (heh- "long") been my favorite morning activity.

I know you don't work for "us," but I did feel a bit frustrated we weren't gettng our daily dose of <Dom O' the Morning>.

More entertaining that a cryptic crossword any day of the week.

So I think I "snapped at you" (yes YOU), and I'm sorry <Dom>. We can't have that. Mainly, you don't deserve that.

So here is the corrected syntax and you'll see why it's necessary-

<after reading your post about claiming the record for most words, I think I felt a bit sheepish- well no, more duckish-- about how much I *did* care about getting the most pages in *my* forum.>

Ok then!

I'd like to think too. But I don't seem to be up to it, so I babble instead. In writing, mostly.

This is what I *do*. Sometimes I scribble in notebooks, sometimes I write on the back of envelopes, sometimes I open new word files on a laptop and then save them under names which ensure that they will never be found again. Yet I kid myself that all this stuff leads somewhere: a metafiction, a meganovel, the last encyclopedic narrative... nothing *too* ambitious, you understand.

Oh, and sometimes I pour the stuff straight in here without decanting it. Which may be why it's erratically mad. *I* am mad all the time, but CG isn't always my outlet of choice.

Plus, of course, I'm wary of establishing patterns that THEY might decode.

As for the BC stuff, it could be yer normal obsessive-compulsive datamania. Or maybe the guy in Ireland was a fictional construct ... though that would drag mack into it as well since he claims to have met me there.

Mr Pynchon was awarded some prize in the 1970s and sent a professional clown to collect his medal. Just saying.

As usual, the 'truth' is banal. I've known people from BC before (about 10,000 BC, you'd think, to look at some of 'em ...) -- and my writerly habits have given me a modest ability to build a plausible edifice out of a few scraps of data. Come to think of it, I tackled school and college exams the same way.

I'd like to think. ("But there's no time to think ... country parsons avoid you and arsons annoyed you ... they'll burn in a sulfurous hell ... Koreans look up to you, they seem all shook up to you ... it's getting much harder to tell ... sobriety, ultra-piety, plasticity, synchronicity, and the music they made in big pink ... and it's time for a drink ...")

Phew, about time too.

BTW, that <I'd like to think I wouldn't to that to you.> -- With some of my pedantic punctuation added, should this read <I'd like to think I wouldn't, to that, do you.> ... ?

Thanks for your optimisitic pulchritude and tendency not to "rub it in."