Hello

I'm supposed to be writing about the Fictiveness Of Fiction today.  I will.  In a while.  After I've lit the wood stove, listened to the birds... Aw no, that's becoming boring now.

Kirsty Almeida isn't boring.  She's inspiring.  Living and working in Manchester, this jazz-trained singer, represents a new wave of artists who have complete control over their artistic practice and creative decisions.  (A woman after my own heart)  As well as being a singer/performer/artist/designer/writer she creates magical experiences for her followers, interacting with them on Facebook.  Recently, she invited folk to dress up in Victorian costumes, meet with her and her band, the Troubadours, in a bar in Manchester, then the crowd moved to a ballroom, where they were treated to an 'extraordinary gig.'  Her costumes are awesome, her music vibrant, her performance stunning.  She is the queen of cabaret and voodoo pop!  Wiki her!

I didn't watch TV last night.  (Master Chef wasn't on)  I read: The Man Who Rained by Ali Shaw.  I liked The Girl With Glass Feet, but this is something else.  It's enchanting, sumptuous, such glorious descriptions and ideas.

Speaking of ideas, Proust Was A Neuroscientist by Jonah Lehrer is a fascinating read.  The book is about artists who anticipated the discoveries of neuroscience!  Writers and painters and composers who discovered 'truths' about the human mind that science is only now discovering!!!!  It's compelling.  It made me think of mindfulness and how that can create new pathways in the brain.  Memories, Mindfulness, Neuroscience & The Stories We Tell Ourselves...oooh I feel a paper coming on.  (David Lynch is a mindfulness fan-it's certainly rewired his brain in weird and wonderful ways.  (If you're interested check him out on Youtube.)
I have radio 4 on atm.  Nothing is catching my ear.  It did yesterday.  Soul Music, the programme was called.  It was about music that touches people.  This week it was Gerry Rafferty's Baker Street.  I know the song, but I'll listen to it differently now that I know it was written in response to Colin Wilson's The Outsider.  Rafferty's daughter said it was about looking for 'the home' within, a place of meaning and connection.  I liked that idea.  I liked it so much, I stopped my car.  Went in the bank.  And wrote it down on one of their paying-in-slips.  (I'd forgotten my notebook and pencil-arghhh my memory!!!)

A couple more hot tips:
www.gregegan.net
www.williamgibsonbooks.com
Aw, go on, and this one!!!
www.jeanettewinterson.com

Right, I'm going to stop writing this blog/diary now.  I must press on with my book.  Think I'll have a wander in the garden first to check out my snowdrops.  Then I will get writing.  I have time to make up.  A deadline to reach.  Then I'll have a treat.  Master Chef is on TV tonight.