Ever...

Dear Diary,

Yes, I am deeply in love with Sue, Yes yes yes, there were many many fit women in town today, none quite as desirable as ever dearest Suzie-Q, mainly because she fancies me, but also because she is effectively a musician. I kept staring at her hips, above that her... ample... personalities (both of them...). What a babe! Man! She needs it. Badly. I cannot wait to see her on the morrow. It will mean tidying up the house, which is of no consequence.

N'owt much hath happened since I last wrote, other than I ran out of booze, smoke, tobacco. No matter. Man, she's so fit. Completely mental, virtually sober, so very geeky, I love her, deeply. Let us see what happens. I feel like Dwayne Dibley from Redwarf when I go to see her. She comes to see me, but even then I feel prepared like a boy-scout: corn plasters, animal footprint chart, thermos, and one triple thick condom... Depending on how tye affair pans out: consequently whether I write poetry that is either tryste, or jubilant. She be so fair. We shall see...

Grant preferred mine own poesy than Marlowe today, which he found too long winded and not accessible enough. Particularly the material I had wrote when I was but fifteen. Aye. Yet no. I love Marlowe. How can one pretend to be a poet in the shadow of such greatness? They cannot. I will only ever do my best...

Radio four, Stephanie Flanders and some economic BS. I am about to have a soak in the bath, long since needed. I long for a splash in the warm water even moreso than Suzie's touch; and that is a great deal, let me tell you. Anyway, I just listened to another piece of witty banter: art vs. science. I've always liked Al Murray, and his humour, but now I really like his take on this subject. I am an artist, not a physicist, nor a shrink, nor even an IT specialist: but a musician. Not someone pretending to be a musician indoors either, a practising musician, a professional. It's what I do. My business. How I earn my bread. By definition: mine own occupation. An artist.

This morning as I met Grant for the first time in years, another superb artist came along: Mike Taylor. A fellow Scot and contemporary of McCormick. Aye. Two of the greatest painters and sculptures in the two counties. Both mediocre musicians, yet magnificent artists. It was nice hearing them discuss the quintessence of expressionism, fine-art, and impressionism. They are both great men, and I felt somewhat overshadowed as a cartoonist. Only the confidence in my musicianship kept me courageous. I love them both, as brothers.

Maximus Fleximus...