Barb why don’t you get an Italian greyhound?

I love the way they lean against you
with total love and adoration.

And I love those daft dogs
that kind of bounce with floppy ears.

And little dogs that sit in your arms
and tremble a lot.

I love love love those.
But then again – tigers.

Taken from Seven Silly Questions … for Barb Jungr, 11th May 2011. Submitted by Andrew Bailey


painters don’t
know they are.

Ed Ruscha.
Not Robert Indiana.

just don’t
know. But they

It’s good
they don’t know.

be impoverished
by their art

they knew.

Taken from a blogpost on the blog dbqp, 12th November 2012. “They’d” has been contracted from “They would”. Submitted by Andrew Bailey.

You have an almost missionary zeal

So it’s perfectly
possible to live
a broadly satisfying life
all on your own, communing
with high art, being a lonely
heroic figure that walks
that long, dramatic path to
the piano centre stage.
This all works fine

as long as you cling
to the notion that the music
you’re playing is written
by dead, distant gods.
On the other hand, it all

blows apart when you start
integrating living composers,
as all the fixed points get swept
away; all composers take
on a human face, the church-like reverence
disappears, and suddenly audiences
become a collection of individuals
who may or may not
like what you’re doing. Promoters
start getting nervous, so you,
the performer,
have to start communicating
fast. That’s why.

From An Interview with Joanna MacGregor on SoundCircus. Submitted by Andrew Bailey.