Coming soon the Zero Lubin esoteric Christmas Cards.
I nearly went out this morning – you know, to sort of have a look around. I’ve been somewhat restricted in my movements and certainly my thought processes – a neurotic apathy (John Cooper Clarke/Nosferatu). A really badly tuned mind, they are not even talking about me on Radio 4 or even in my head – it’s just reggae tinnitus.
I had trouble trying to neatly open a box of traditional Alpen – I sort of ripped it wrong and totally upset myself – I just couldn’t contain it – it sort of sprinkled everywhere. I’m also getting arthritis in my right shoulder quite badly – through a 1976 Triumph Herald car crash.
It’s all been a bit flippy since the malarkey in America – it’s certainly thrown me and made me revisit the Ardennes Offensive of December 1944 – of course it would have been a different story if the Tigers had the fuel… oh and didn’t sink in the mud.
However that’s not why I’m wearing white gloves – I had considered popping into Deutsche Bank down Bishopsgate and proposing myself as artist in residence – I was thinking along the lines of recreating the French Michelin man look from strategically stuffing cash money (their money – whose money?) into a ribbed boiler suit and playing kiss chase with senior executives before taking the lucre as expenses….
As always – when I’m stressed – I lost the impetuous – what didn’t help was the banana losing is yellowness and it had been such a comfort for the past two days. I might have to buy a light box or a desert island.
Still it’s not all bad news – The Christmas cards – The esoterically life enhancing Zero Lubin Christmas cards are nearly ready and will be going to print in the next week. I shall only be sending one to Chicago (Dr. Michael Gross) – there is nothing down for NYC or Washington this year.
I do fear I am unemployable now through age and a clearly bizarre CV involving social care and conceptual artistic performance. But then I don’t like going out too much for too long unless it’s a motoring jaunt – I’m much better in the summer and did sell ice cream once, many years ago.
For now I must write – the book will not finish itself…
Photograph: Alex Rhys-Taylor