3:1
| 31 | Edited and promoted remembering the slits, edited uncivil law’s criminal. Snowbound. |
| 30 | Added uncivil law’s criminal, edited wrong (which still is) and remembering the slits. |
| 29 | Edited More Fugues. |
| 25 | Although most English school kids will know the story of King Henry VIII, people elsewhere will not. You really need to know the story to appreciate an engineering rush :: homework, so I’ve added an appropriate footnote. I should have added a footnote page ages ago. There’s a lot of bits and pieces written and unwritten which belong there. |
| 24 | Edited remembering the slits. Had a somewhat extended, rather drunken night, last night, going through all my old ‘76 ‘77 ‘78 punk–era singles with a fellow–Citroën anorak who appreciates such things: hence the poem. |
| 23 | Added remembering the slits. Added and immediately promoted More Fugues. Edited uncivil law’s smirk and wrong. Added the set old man Keats. Maybe I should spend a couple of weeks in the US to research American magazines; there’s only so much I can determine without immersing myself in their culture. I’m thinking in San Francisco, with its wonderful book shops. By the same argument, I should visit Dublin. |
| 21 | Promoted scratby, shrines, uncivil law’s smirk and wrong. Added road to the subject index, renaming the unintentionally euphemistic subject sadness to death (which’ll put the wimps off), and tidied up the new date index. Edited hello. Seperated sequence index from subject index. Added cross–links to the photographic set content pages. Tried another place to visit, in this case Maldon in Essex. What a waste of time. |
| 20 | Edited scratby and shrines. I knew revisiting Great Yarmouth, where my now dead mother took us kids for summer holidays, would sadden me. Radio 4’s programme on the second noble truth, and ‘the stone tower before the Norfolk border’, resonated. This experiment of a brief visit worked. Next, I’ll try somewhere stark with no emotional meaning for me; see if I can catch the place. Edited London, Now, renaming it London, 2K0: recent history has dated this poem. Added a diary and footnotes, and a poetry date index. Changed the front page slogan. |
| 19 | Added scratby and shrines. Edited Underneath The Loch, London, Now, later and the epigrams on Islam. Rearranged the front page’s geometry. Restructured the presentation of poetry, adding indexes by form, set and subject to the existing published and title indexes. The old sets, and their poems, are now found using the new set index. The form and subject indexes are entirely new. All indexes reference poems directly. The form index references new form discussion pages on fixed, ranting poesie, rhythm and rhyme, short, sonnet and strict forms. Added a comment on the published index mentioned how awful I am at selecting poems for submission to magazines. |
| 18 | Edited the epigrams on Science and Islam, lord pisswater’s clarion and damn the clarion from The Clarion, and uncivil law’s parliament. |
| 17 | Added uncivil law’s wrong. Edited and promoted england corrupted. Edited the epigrams on Al–Qaida, Islam, Science and the USA. |
| 16 | Edited the epigrams on Al–Qaida and Islam. I’ve sent my poem Guinness (and There was a Young Lady called Venus) off to Diageo, who own the Guinness brand, to see if they might find them useful, after I read it at Tom’s group on Monday, and Tom suggested I did so. Other people have said similar things. I’m not optimistic. |
| 15 | Added uncivil law’s smirk. |
| 13 | Edited Underneath The Loch. Added readings of old man Keats and China Poem. |
| 12 | Edited Underneath The Loch. |
| 8 | Iota are going to publish Leicester Square. |
| 6 | Edited old man Keats, China Poem and england corrupted. |
| 5 | Edited england corrupted and the contrast nag on the front page. |
| 4 | I can’t deny the cheering surprise of being informed that Black Rose intends to publish Touching Each Desire With Happy Jokes. I don’t really like that poem; to misquote Billy Connolly, it’s about as subtle as a fart in a space suite. |
| 3 | I’ve sent a sample set of poems to Jonathan Cape (who publish Anne Carson). I’m not expecting a positive response—but I certainly wouldn’t get one if I didn’t submit at all. Edited an engineering rush a song so dire. |
| 2 | Edited england corrupted, an engineering rush a song so dire and recreated arts. |
| 1 | Edited england corrupted. The New Year is normally a time of self–proclaimed gravitas. Given what I’ve in the past, I hand the floor to Eric Sykes: “rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb”. |
