> To David,
>
> From an old saying, better not say anything than talk nonsense.
>
> Gaël.
Well, I'm still waiting, Gaël. (Sorry for misspelling your name in my last)
I can think of plenty of faults with that piece I wrote (and places where it
should go) but what's all this about not saying anything, why the
behindbacks of sending your message
b-c rather than upfront? There's only a tiny number of people I talk to in
'private', you're not among them, so, again, explain why the piece is
'nonsense', c'mon, talk in front of others.
David Bircumshaw
Leicester, England
Home Page
A Chide's Alphabet
Painting Without Numbers
www.paintstuff.20m.com/index.htm
http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
----- Original Message -----
From: "david.bircumshaw" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, November 17, 2001 12:04 AM
Subject: Re: Depression (an Ode)
> Gail Grand did the classic thing of not replying to me front channel but
> sending this little put down b-c. Now, whatever the faults of my impromptu
> piece, I don't think it's nonsense.
>
> Or aren't we allowed to say that anymore?
>
> By the way, Gail, what old saying?
>
>
> David Bircumshaw
>
> Leicester, England
>
> Home Page
>
> A Chide's Alphabet
>
> Painting Without Numbers
>
> www.paintstuff.20m.com/index.htm
>
> http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Gael Grand" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: "david.bircumshaw" <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Friday, November 16, 2001 9:14 PM
> Subject: Re: Depression (an Ode)
>
>
> To David,
>
> From an old saying, better not say anything than talk nonsense.
>
> Gaël.
> -----
> >Do you know
> >
> >for the first three days
> >after my mother died
> >
> >I couldn't even find
> >where her body was
> >
> >this was because
> >she was in the hands
> >of professionals
> >
> >like arts administrators
> >but I did know
> >
> >through an illiterate note
> >from a care assistant
> >
> >what had happened
> >
> >to her teeth. Now that
> >all of our world
> >belongs to poison's
> >
> >morons, like a
> >fulfilment
> >
> >of the American dream,
> >there is a sort
> >
> >of comfort to be found
> >in Universal (United) Notions
> >(almost Leibniz-like)
> >
> >of stupidity, and a panegyric
> >to be declared
> >
> >to the Stars and Stripes
> >(in the true tradition of poets i.e. crawlers
> >
> >see Spenser see Dryden see Shakespeare's Sonnets)
> >
> >which I am now about to begin.
> >It goes so:
> >
> >Fuck off America
> >Go to Hell G Dubbya
> >Rot in your saliva
> >Tony Cocksucker
> >
> >(that's only a beginning I know but I swear it shows promise. I reckon it
> >needs interesting references to LangPo, apartment sublets in New York,
> PoMo,
>
> >tenureships on creative writing courses, call centres, Kent Johnson,
> cluster
>
> >bombs, messages from anthrax and Dante's Inferno)
> >
> >
> >David Bircumshaw
> >
> >Leicester, England
> >
> >Home Page
> >
> >A Chide's Alphabet
> >
> >Painting Without Numbers
> >
> >www.paintstuff.20m.com/index.htm
> >
> >http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
> >
> >
> Gael Grand
> mobile in France: 0670871750, int: +33670871750
> mobile in the UK: 07810 317 750, int: +447810 317 750
>
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