From Puffer Fish to Five Star

This title came from a short discussion amongst us this morning. It started with Puffer Fish (and how deadly they can be if eaten when prepared incorrectly) and carried on through how Oysters look like nasal effluxions (and probably taste like them) until we ended up talking about 5 star who, amazingly do not have a web site. I would have thought that they were the ultimate cult band. Or am I getting confused with Debbie - sorry Deborah - Gibson? The discussion also encompassed Frank Skinner in Korea eating almost live squid tentacles which have to be coated in oil before consumption to prevent the suckers attaching to the throat of the Gourmand.

Soundtrack is Stereolab - Transient Random-Noise Bursts with Announcements - Again

I object to your use of the chords F and D. They belong to me and no one else. No one should be one word. And so another day in the land of the urban myth springs forth from the mind of the un-occupied. That fish smiled at me after it was put on my plate so I could not eat it. Years ago, we went to a small shed in Scalloway on the Shetland Islands where we were shown a large tank with hundreds of lobsters in it. They were scrabbling around and making a spooky scratching sound as they tried to get out. They were destined, I am sure, to be eaten in the hotels around the Islands. That night, I dreamed of breaking into the shed and opening up an escape route for the lobsters. They would only have had to crawl a few yards to the dockside where they would have fallen in and been free. Now I like lobsters but only to eat. This is just another way in which I have changed probably for the worse. I would still set free the lobsters, but they cannot live out of the water.

You cannot have a full empathy with all creatures; it is impossible to do so and live happily. It is possible to know that you need to do something to change your attitude or all the creatures and plants of the Earth will die - us included. I am 14 next birthday and will travel over the mountains with my cousin the Duke towards the mountains where Oetsi was found. He was my cousin as well. We do not know where all our thoughts come from but we can guess that they are formed in the mind of one god who rules the world with others. The Deity of perfection is a dream we can never reach in this life.

Dream of the Mountains.

Dreaming of Pianos in my room,
deep within the castle my father bought
one year while dabbling in business
across the mountains of the moon,

I closed my eyes and saw the music
dancing through my mind like snowflakes,
spread against the moon and wind
to give me holidays and block.

I could not know the way we go
to reach the little station
high at Garmisch in the German Alps
and get back to my home.

My little brother sleeping at my side
has counted every sheep between
the stars and Innsbruck
and smiles, a dream within a dream.

At the border, we are stopped
by severe guards with rifles
and with callipers to test our faces
for our origins and mountain minds.

In mountain language we accept
and wake to sounds of ships
just beyond the dirty window.
I sleep and dream of lobsters.