FRIDA O’CHOICE

THE SPOKEN WORD

THE WRITTEN WORD

Monday the 17th of April 2023

I am Frida O’Choice.
But you can call me Choice, most people do.
If this was some fairy tale set in some threatening mythical past I would probably be depicted as a Wicked Witch. But here in the Galloverse I am far more unreal than that. As for my sex, if that is important to you, you choose... It’s your choice.

But...

There lies the secret of my power. A power that I have licensed out across the world.

People herald me as something to aspire to.
The ultimate goal in life.
But I know that at the heart of me lies the ultimate prison that traps the whole of people kind.
I am there to tempt you then entrap you.

You walk into a café.
You are hungry but not that hungry.
The pain aux raisins looks good but so does the tarte au citron.
Whatever you choose does not really matter, they both look good. They will both taste good.
You walk into the boutique.
You try on a dress.
Then you try on another dress.
They both look good on you.
It is your choice.
You choose.
But maybe you made the wrong choice.
But there will be other dresses in other boutiques on other days.
You walk into the discothèque.
You dance with one man.
Then you dance with another man.
You choose which one to spend the night with...
To have your children with...
To grow old with...
To die with.

And all the time I am there controlling things because I am Choice.
And you think I am on your side.
That I am good.
But I lie.
There is nothing good about me.
I deceive.
I know that the less of me in your life the better your life will be.
The more of me in your life the more likely that you will make the wrong decision.
That you will have the pain aux raisins when the tarte au citron would have been better.
That other dress would have looked more you the morning after.
The man at the discothèque that you never danced with would be the man you should have danced with.

If I was in a position to advise you about such things, I would advise you to choose a life with less choice in it.
Go to a café where there is only one pastry.
Go to a boutique where they only have one dress to hang in your wardrobe.
Go to the discothèque where there is only one man on the dancefloor.
And make that pastry taste good.
And that dress fit fine.
And that man dance like he has never danced before.
For you do not need me to tempt you this way and that.
For I feed off the mistakes that I can make you make.
It’s your choice.

TWA SNAILS

THE SPOKEN WORD

THE WRITTEN WORD

Monday the 17th of April 2023

It rained last night.

It is first light.

Two snails are crossing the road from East to West, somewhere between Newton Stewart and Wigtown just after the turning for Carty.

The road is still wet from the rain.

These two snails have been evolving for millions and millions of years. Over five hundred million years to be a little more precise. They have survived the comings and goings of many other species on this planet – their planet. The Dinosaurs’ dominion was a mere blip some sixty million years ago. Mankind has only been around for about a million years. The Motorcar has only been around for a few weeks. Or at least when my grandmother was born (1879) there were no cars on the road between Newton Stewart and Wigtown, be that before or after the turning for Carty.

The two snails are about twelve inches into their journey across the road, when the first car speeds by heading towards Wigtown. The two snails don’t see the car but feel its vibration. The two snails continue on their journey. It may take them most of the day to get to the other side.

The two snails are to be a pair of the stars of the film Poppies in The Field. We will see the incident/scene described above, early in the film. The scene might only last seconds. There will be no explanation from The Unseen Narrator.

We will cut back to the two snails’ journey across the road several times throughout the ninety minutes of the film. There will be various spinning tyres on speeding cars that nearly crush them. But the Twa Snails do not stop.

And...

Just as the day begins to close and darkness returns, we get to watch as the two snails reach the grassy verge at the other side of the road.

On the credits for the film, we will see they are billed as Twa Snails, in honour of the Twa Dugs celebrated by a local poet.

It begins to rain again.

a local artist

IAIN SINCLAIR

THE SPOKEN WORD

THE WRITTEN WORD

Monday the 17th of April 2023

In March 2023 I received an email from Gareth Evans inviting me to contribute to a “for respect and with affection” project for Iain Sinclair. I sent him this:

Last year...

Actually, before I get into the whole “Last year” thing, I’d better state now that what I am about to write is not about how great a writer Iain Sinclair is. My guess is that if you are reading this, you must already think that Iain Sinclair is a great writer, and if by chance you don’t, I am not the person to convince you otherwise.

What I am going to write about is Me. As in Me still suffering from the after effects of last year’s virtual pandemic of Main Character Syndrome.

Last year, I made a decision not to write or even respond to requests for positive quotes from either authors or publishers to be used on the covers of just-about-to-be published books by said authors or publishers. I had become totally cynical about this whole thing. It didn’t seem to matter what the book was or who the writer was or how shite or great the book might be, it had to be covered in these quotes from people that you might have heard of. And these quotes just existed to be part of the whole Social Media PR campaign around the book. Quotes that could be used on Twitter or whatever. And these quotes seemed to be as much about the vanity of those “giving” the quote as about how great the book in question is.

So...

Last year I stopped – sort of...

Last year I was also trying to get rid of all of my books, or at least get it down to just one shelf by my bed. There were a number of books that I had by Iain Sinclair, and I had made a decision that I should only keep one. I had got it down to two, it was going to be either White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings or Lights Out For The Territory. As much as I loved the whole Huckleberry Finn-ness of this title, I knew it had to be White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings that I would have to keep. And this was not because I had not read it, but because I loved the whole notion of what I imagined this book to be about.

But then it was my own books. I had also made the decision that I would only keep one. I picked up the copy of Bad Wisdom that was published by Penguin in 1996, and flipped it over to read the blurb on the back. And right there was a quote from one of the great writers of our time. And the quote was “The last of the last”. I remember when we got that quote to go on the back of the book, I had no idea if being “the last of the last” was a good, bad or cleverly uncommitted quote. But I knew then and very much know now, it is the best quote I have ever seen on the cover of a book. The author of that quote was Iain Sinclair.

And tomorrow I will put off starting to read White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings one more time, so I can keep looking forward to reading it.

*               *               *

Gareth replied by asking for my bio and address. I sent him this:

My one-line bio is...

“Bill Drummond is a local artist.”

And the “a local artist” bit has to always be italicised.

And “a local artist” seems to be my current other self.

And my address is...

Somewhere in...
The Galloverse

Yours,

Bill Drummond

Post Script: I have replaced my external address with my internal address for the sake of this publication