case notes and vinyl supply

case notes follow from earlier this week to present day.

5.05pm-6pm
Walked past campervan glimpsing pair of people at modern camper van following mountain walk. the pair I met a while back - barworker singersongwriter and boyfriend on the run. She was in an orange floral bandana so I knew it was her. I say hi and walk on. don't think theyrecognise me in daylight. few mins down the road they catch me up in the van and offer me lift. I climb in on passenger side next to her.he drives. he does more of the talking but both friendly and hip. ahot day. i'm all sweaty in unbuttoned colourful cotton shirt. They're camping at site on my route so I skip bus stop and stick with them totheir campsite track end. (they've got one small tent they say,surrounded in multi-room canvas affairs of others. but they have thevan as well. they were living in countryside near halifax (n.s. or w.y.) but she has a family static or somesuch permanently located atwhitby n.y. since childhood. she knows whitby well. as we move towardsdrop-off, one of this year's lambs lies in road, other sheep near - theyfear it's dead; stop van. I get out to shift it and it hops off from alazy doze. we're all glad. they give me a twinkle and nice to see andI'm away. on foot. past 3 guys i know sheering sdheep in the sunshine. I hadn't talked boston mass lyrics with her. just soaked up thevibrations. thoughts following on from wolds incident: bees pass onpollen without knowing it. just from sitting next to each other.especially in floral print.

today: 5.10pm-present time
my man (actually a female, but a good supplier of information kicks) tells me there is a sale on at the record shak. this place is nopicnic. no ordinary second hand joint. if records were alive and thiswas a petshop it would have been closed down long ago for mistreatment,one suspects. boxes and crates of vinyl holding vinyl holding vinyl in leaning towers. no passing room along the randomly formed aisles andmachete paths in what is only a small room to begin with. god knows what the BACK ROOM situation is like. but the man he has a system. hecan find stuff in there., he knows which hamster is in which cage andhow to get at it... a one in one out customer system is in voluntaryoperation.so... a sudden sale. half price i now find out. message from my man is that if i get a list to her partner's account they will collect the merchandise and deliver saturday. today is thursday.
just off fatpipe. my man she is with chocolate and wine at half ten, awaiting order. skip straight to her address now for quicker purchase of goods tomorrow pre 6am cheap ticket north... i now leave notes quickly to put together a wishlist and mail to gmail.

quick thoughts on latest notes though.

yes. the cross needles are now a world wide phenonemon, it is evident. i know shepherds purse myself and have contacts near there. i'm sure i used to hit it for tvp.
more soon.

In Reply

This is a lot to digest. I will take one thing at a time, if I can slow my excited mind enough to do so. First item: mass singer. I have operated on the assumption she was purely a dream guide, and was nonrationally working on the basis that she is Sadsack. However, as I have said before, who knows whether I dreamt of her then awoke to the morning light cat noises, or met her, then fell asleep and dreamt of the cat. In which case perhaps you are right, and she is a real UK operative.

The Religious Studies student theory has much going for it – the RS/Mass link in particular. I’m now working on the basis that you’re correct. I haven’t seen her again since dispite several nights frequenting the usual bars. She may resurface when I least expect it.

Second Item: Droitwich Fix. This is a central tenet of self-sufficiency. For every item its use. Throw nothing away! There is no ‘throw away’. Tin cans planted under apple trees to improve the yield. Old sewage outflow pipe rescued from the sea for a chimney. I am sure the inner handicraft core will be well aware of this from years of living on the edge; on the border. I feel the term probably refers both to this and also to the heavy duty stitch. It is a perfect name the soft core would choose for such a ‘fix stitch’.

I await diagrams, images and drawings.

Urge For Going

I failed to locate Sad Sack last night while traipsing Whitby charity shops in the rain, however, in the shelves and boxes of a cramped sidestreet bric-a-brac shop, I did find a secondhand CD box set sampler of material from Joni Mitchell’s 4 ‘missing’ early albums, including the album ‘bisonine and …[?]’ containing the song ‘Urge for Going’. This was a really important find. I had heard ‘urge for going’ once, several years ago on radio Scotland. The song does exist outside of dreamland. I have often tried to locate it, but now know why I have failed – it is from one of 4 missing early albums, dating from the days of live performances in Greenwich Village coffee shops in the early sixties. I believe the song was one of the first to make Joni her name on the NY coffeeshop scene. The radio Scotland playing of it indicates that a genuine recorded version does exist in the mainstream. The presence of 4 whole albums of such early material is as the Grail itself to this early-Joni-ite. Albeit if they exist only in dreamland. I must channel the material somehow.

I feel that in reference to our current quest the finding of the teaser box set from Joni’s lost albums in the dream represents missing soft core road trip mixtapes being discovered. At The Haberdasher’s Request may be about to resurface.

Nb. In the dream I didn’t purchase the CD set (priced I think at £39.99). The knowledge that somewhere the 4 albums exist is for now enough. I will hold out for the vinyl of the full 4 albums, and will expect Lake Tahoe needlework references on them.

Saint Kilda

My feeling is that ‘Melody Nelson’ and at least some others from the soft core are still out there, in hiding from some, but active and at large. It is a coincidence (or rather, perhaps it is no coincidence) that one of the other parties we have traced as being at large since 2005 is Melinda Packett / Melissa Parrish. I don’t know what to make of the Melody / Melanie / Melinda Doll – perhaps many members of the group are at large using these common aliases. Perhaps not. I would agree with your supposition that the cargo cult is once again active. I have a feeling that Sad Sack, the European stranger I guessed to be Belgian, is a dream spirit named Serge Brel, or possibly Jaques Gainsbourg, who has got in touch with me to aid his own longstanding search for Melody. I had previously suspected Sad Sack of being female, but either I was wrong, am wrong, or else Sad Sack is multi-gender or gender-changing. Or perhaps the spirit of Serge/Jacques takes the form of his image of Melody.

My French is better in dreams than in waking life, so I shall quiz him/her further soon. Last night I became lost in an area of forestry commission pine plantation as darkness fell. I found a network of bumpy tracks used by forestry vehicles and followed. Eventually I came out to a visitor’s centre building where some kind of seminar was in progress. I believe semiologically this was Kielder Forest – or Kilda, by its northern spelling – the visitor’s centre was the mysterious lodge in the enclave of St. Kilda. I may return there tonight.

Sad Sack

I have become aware of an individual known to myself only as ‘sad sack’. The individual drives a European licensed white Mercedes, and may be Belgian. My awareness of the individual began whilst I was researching (unsuccessfully) the poet R J Beasley. Later that night, I climbed on the roof of my old secondary school and gazed at the playing fields beyond. This was a short cut out of a cul-de-sac. My later acquaintance had been unable to find a way out of the atrium area, after a visit, accompanied by Sad Sack, to a kebab emporium in Stirlingshire by the name of ‘The Fountain’.

This fountain of knowledge, renowned for its late opening hours especially but not exclusively on Thursdays, provided sustenance at 2am last night, for the three of us (me, my later acquaintance, and Sad Sack. I had arrived earlier by public transport. From the roof of my old school buildings I could see the blurry image of the town beyond, however, probably in part due to watching High School Musical 3 earlier that evening while half asleep, the important features seen from the roof were features of the roof itself – skylights; tarmac; plant pots – a roof garden. It wasn’t quite a Buddhist mountain retreat, but it was in the same vein.

On the rooftop, I unfortunately awoke, but I feel I will return there. This morning I have been in heated debate about fonts, arguing vehemently the importance of frills; serifs; floweriness, against the notion that pure information is always best imparted through a runic purity and simplicity of font such as Century Gothic. My feeling is that warmth of feeling is of intrinsic importance to information content to be preserved and transmitted. I now realise that there is a connection between my visit to the Fountain, last night, and this font discourse. The font is the fount. The warm information has been imparted…