STICKY SICKY

this blog carries a public health warning
your seedish boy is in a bad way
fireseed coming down with every ailment
under the proverbial bright yellow disc
feeling more like 99 than 39
as if the teeth
and the sunburn
and the conjuctivitis
and the mysterious swollen ankles
and the insomnia
were not enough
now i can add two more little afflictions to the list
#1 non-smoker's cough and croak
#2 stabbing back pains
now i been stabbed in the back before
but only metaphorically speaking
but what with my lanky frame
which is ergonomically so ill-suited
to the physical world it inhabits
i've always had a worry at the back of my mind
if you'll pardon the pun
(or did ya miss it?)
that one day my back will just seize up
suddenly
like has happened to a few people i know
and leave me bed-ridden and crippled
well i don't wish to exaggerate
or unduly worry any of you fellow blog brethren
out there on the cyber ether
but it sure as hell gives me a scare yes-a-day
when my hacking cough
suddenly sends a couple of electric shocks down my spine
like i just stepped on a sting-ray
anyway i swallow my pride and take a sicky
sit at home and sweat it out
in the relentless humidity
of end-of-july sk
i've experienced worse though, seeds
once in darwin
in the northern territories of oz
i take a shower
i dry myself down
a few minutes later
and i am sitting in a pool of my own juice again
oh man!
truly unbearable for a pale-skinned pom like me
now come on fightseed old chap
things ain't quite that bad in seoul, are they?
back soon...
(hopefully with better puns!)

NEARLY MAN

hi
tis me
the usual half-assed apologies for lack of blogs
i been busy
but i am nearly there
nearly done
nearly home and dry
it is all nearly in the can
one year
eleven songs
fifty minutes
a whole lotta love and graft
writing
arranging
recording
overdubbing
patching in effects
mixing
doing the artwork
designing the t
a true labour of love and hate
today i am redoing the song i lost irretrievably
when the old computer crashed
of course it had to be
'hero with a thousand faces'
the longest, most complex arrangement
on the whole damn record
ain't that just the way the cookie crumbles?
just a few laps of overdubs to go now
some strummed acoustic guitars
an echoey solo to melt your pain
at the end of a dark, frustrating day
nearing the finishing line
the end is in sight
oh i can't wait for you to hear it!

HANNAH VERSARY

so sorry for neglecting ya!
been working every hour buddha sends
to finish the album
to tie up various loose ends...
eight years ago today
mrs f and i exchanged our vows
made promises
to love
to honour
and eat cherries with each other
we ain't done a bad job i guess
miami vice came to poole harbour that day
a blistering hot july afternoon
sunglasses and waistcoats on the quay
everyone larking around and posing in front of the yachts
of course at that time
little hannah e was not even a proverbial glint
in her daddy's eye
h and her mum are going to the zoo tomorrow
'd'you think you might see a dinosaur there?'
i ask h before she goes to bed
'i hope so' she replies straight-faced

SUMMER IN THE CITY

summer in the city
hot july turns seoul into a greenhouse
enclosed by an invisible glass dome
the trapped heat melts the street
jogging along the humid pavements
late for a meeting i've arranged
i take deep breaths
inhale the smell of sweat, grime and perfume
everywhere i look
smooth legs and bare shoulders
compete for attention
my mp3 is turned right up to 32
to combat the eight-lane traffic roar
but still comes off second best...
my body continues to fall apart
the eyes are better
but the ankles have swollen like a pregnant lady's
the skin continues to peel and itch
despite regular applications of hello vera
i got insomnia these days
too many things on my mind
too much stuff up in the air
too many uncertainties
but hey!
a little uncertainty is a good thing
right?
right!
keep on keeping on, seeds
f
x

SUBLIME

from the ridiculous to the sublime
it is a saturday morning in mid july
the weather is sublime
the mountains up close and personal
whimsical cirrus clouds
stretch across a deep blue background
today i am dining with the devil
we sit inside a steel and glass death machine
trapped in a long queue of other steel and glass boxes
all attempting unsuccessfully
to escape the greedy clutches of seoul
but undeterred by the interminably slow progress
we head patiently south-west
along the cruelly misnamed seohaean expressway
passing rice fields
and forested hills
of over-saturated green
stunning fleecy cloud sky canvases
finally we escape the motorway
for the minor roads
and after several wrong turnings
we are walking up a rocky path to gaesimsa temple
cushioned with soft fallen pine needles
a narrow wooden beam carries us
across a pond stocked with carp
at the top of a flight of stone steps
we find a temple courtyard
enclosed by hansel and gretel curved wooden buildings
in the centre of the clearing
a mediaeval multi-tiered stone pagoda
is silhouetted against a magnificent azure sky
dappled with grey-white cloudlets

a few footsteps from the courtyard
in a tiny side temple
an exotic red carpet spreads
across the solid wooden floor
before a prayer mat, a gong and a jug
the gold boddhisatva gazes serenely over my head
out through the open door
and away over the mountains
his thumbs clasped to his middle fingers
in mediatation pose
who knows what state of consciousness he has reached...
it is six am on a sunday morning
i stand alone
atop the stone fortress wall of haemi-up
watching the sun rise over the hillside
while my travel companions sleep on in our motel
swallows skim
dragonflies hover
butterflies flit
i stand in the sunlight
then circumnavigate the wall
scatting along to demo tracks
uploaded onto my mp3

we hit the road again
unimpeded by traffic this time
bound for the tranquil valley of sorunsan
mrs f and i go for a short hike
leaving h to cat-nap with our weekend chauffeur
a steady climb up a rocky path
leads us to nakjodae
a rocky granite outcrop just made for scrambling
from this vantage point
south korea stretches away in every direction
in all its glory
the glinting sea to the west
the timeless peaks all around
on the way back
we hold hands
talk of future plans
drink delicious sweet raspberry juice
this day will not come again...

MAGIC MOUNTAIN

bright summer morning
so early i rise
up on the rooftop
candifloss clouds floating by
arrogant buildings
reach out their fingers to touch the sky
chaotic city
stretching away to the riverside
but behold magic mountain
oh magic mountain

HITCH

the driver makes brief eye contact
but the blue blur whizzes past all the same
i'm already scanning the road for the next vehicle
when suddenly i realise the blue blur has pulled up for me
i scamper along the road after him
afraid he'll change his mind
'where're you heading, mate?'
people who pick up hitchhikers
tend to be a bit different from the crowd
confident
self-assured
usually male
though not always
often surprisingly taciturn
though occasionally gregarious and chatty
i've started playing this little game
just for fun
supplying sometimes outrageous spontaneous fibs
to drivers' eager questions
seeing if i can keep up the facade
after all, why restrict yourself to the truth
when fantasy is so much more interesting?
d1: are you married?
h: er...actually i'm gay!
d1: oh i'm terribly sorry!
d2: so how did you meet your wife?
h: on the london underground
she was struggling with a heavy suitcase
at the bottom of a flight of steps
and i offered to carry it up to the top for her
d2:how gallant!
d3: any children?
h: twins
well, triplets, actually
but one of them died in childbirth...
d3: oh...erm...i didn't mean to pry!
i've only been rumbled the once
by an astute guy who baulked at the suggestion
that i might be a tv weatherman
my thin awareness of all things meteorogical
lay cruelly exposed
so it was that i was rumbled
by this travelling sales rep
who clearly knew far more
about the subject of climate and weather
than this supposed meteorology graduate ever did!
yours
fibseed

GRAFT & CRAFT

dontcha worry my seeds
just when you thought he was running out of steam
your errant knight is back again
with another cyber missive
set to rattle your cage
dig your ribs
cajole you
console you
get your head nodding in agreement
make you think
soothe you
amuse you
make you weep
wash over you
disabuse you
or otherwise bamboozle you
hopefully not to bore you
see
if i had my way
i would be here every day
pouring a glass of the old mind juice
onto this pixelated page
sharing my snapshots with you
digging deeper into the art of living
but there are only so many hours to juggle with
and so many plates to keep spinning
and some days it just don't work out
for example at the minute
i am on a mission to finish the new albumen
before we leave these shores on august 19th
recording one song per fortnight
sleeve design
t-shirt design
distribution and sales
the lot!
i am also on a major maintenance mission
you know
that disheartening situation
where you have to expend a whole lotta time n energy
just to stand still and actually achieve squat diddly
everything round here seems to need fixing
all my mod cons are coming out in sympathy
i have now fixed
my mp3 player (again!)
my computer
my dvd player
my wahwah pedal
my synth keyboard
my soundcard
my watch
my eyes
i have yet to fix
my hifi cd player
my bubblejet printer
my teeth
my sunburnt skin
today it is the turn of my kawasamy sunburst red
so another trip to the nakwon music emporium beckons
that monstrous hulk of a building in insadong
housing all manner of musical delights and wares
up at the kawasamy service centre
hidden away at the end of a long corridor
the walls are bedecked
with a fleet of signed guitar models
i have the immense good fortune
to be attended to by the sajangnim himself
a serious fellow in his late fifties
i soon see that my baby is in good hands
on his worktable
he places her slender brown neck in the stock
and reseats the pick-ups
fitting shiny new gold screws to keep them in place
i watch attentively
as he pulls out little drawers of components
thoughtfully selecting the right one
replacing the drawers
dextrously wielding various screwdrivers and pliers
his tools of the trade
i explain in my clumsy korean
about my problems with getting the damn strings in tune
he tunes them with a little electronic device
holds her up and sights her carefully
testing the harmonics at different frets
ping! ping! ping!
he adjusts the action
bringing the strings down a bit lower
tests the harmonics again
ping! ping!
he adjusts the length of one of the strings
berates me good-naturedly for my poor guitar maintenance
tells me that i need to change the strings
gives her a final dust down and hands her back
ready to weave her magic melody lines once again
back at home
the family are not yet returned
i have the house to myself
i lay down the rhythm track to my latest ditty
my rejuvenated kawasamy biting and growling contentedly
then feel a pang of guilt
and sit down and write this blog for you

BLISS

there's a whole lotta hurt
before ya get to the bliss...
by the time we roll on down to the beach
the sun is low in its sulky sky
but a wide open page of sand
stretches far away in either direction
toward its hazy headland bookends
the sea invigorates
cold at first
then oh so cool and refreshing
its salty taste dredges up memories from the deep
cheeky seagulls interrupt the reverie
flying low with an eye out for morsels
as for me
i splash around like an idiot
then do a chariots of fire sprint up and down the shore
dodging the occasional stranded jellyfish
sweet hannah e trots up to meet me in her pink swimsuit
we jump the waves together
until h gets cold feet
and retires to draw sand pictures
and then dance contendedly around them
like only a four-year-old can
an orange disc sinks slowly to the horizon
meanwhile up on the promenade it's a vegan-free zone
the row of seafood joints adhere zealously to their name
but all's well that ends well
i manage to beg, borrow and steal
a dish of mollusc-free noodles for my bidet dinner
a twilit purple sky bleeds into the sullen sea
oh this is a birthday to remember
not all is peace n tranquility of course
this being sk
always a difficult place
to be alone with one's thoughts
a few macho characters frequent the prom
the soju is flowing easily
lubricating the arm-wrestling challenges
and boosting the bravado
at the rifle-range amusement booths
a fire-cracker frenzy along the prom
heralds an imminent return to our 'pension'
nestled among bamboo and pine trees behind the beach

BIDET BULLETIN

you heard of the thirty-nine steps
well i reached it
thirty nine years old
young
or somewhere in between?
more than half-way through
the three score years and ten
but who cares about them?
today family fireseed sell-a-brat
by hitting the road
bound for the attractively monikered
taean haean maritime park
somewhere south and west and seawards
hoping for empty beaches
tasty country tucker
inky pinky orange sunsets
and not too many cyclones or downpours
may the force be with us
and with you...