I thought I'd let the Second Executioner, also known as Scotland's leading
lesbian poet, his moment of fame by letting him fill in the details of his
thespian career. Myself, as far as I know, I wasn't dropped on my head as a
baby, but I've gone round life frequently feeling as if I might just as well
have been. I do know I was apparently the loudest baby ever known in the
maternity ward in which I made my debut, what's news there, eh?
I've been mulling over this irony and height thing - it strikes me that the
reverse can be true - Jane Austen for instance, who certainly wasn't tall,
was capable of a delicious acidity. I've made my mind up on the God thing -
my theological proposal is that the deity does exist but has incredibly bad
eyesight and is afflicted by severe problems of memory, hence the
absent-mindedness of fate and its oversights.
I feel much better for saying that.
Best
Dave
David Bircumshaw
Spectare's Web, A Chide's Alphabet
& Painting Without Numbers
http://www.chidesalphabet.org.uk
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