{"id":839,"date":"2007-12-18T03:30:59","date_gmt":"2007-12-18T02:30:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dickonedwards.co.uk\/diary\/index.php\/archive\/better-hair-than-larkin\/"},"modified":"2007-12-18T09:35:53","modified_gmt":"2007-12-18T08:35:53","slug":"better-hair-than-larkin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/archive\/better-hair-than-larkin\/","title":{"rendered":"Nicer Hair Than Larkin"},"content":{"rendered":"

I have a little background voice in my head that constantly mutters ‘you’re a failure, you’re useless, you can’t write, you can’t earn a living, you’re ugly, you’re a waste of skin, no one likes you, you’ll never find love, just occasional toleration, it serves you right, it’s your own fault, give up, die, die, die’ and so on.<\/p>\n

Thankfully I don’t believe the little voice. Particularly when for some reason it sounds frankly like Dick Dastardly from the kids’ cartoon show Wacky Races<\/em>.<\/p>\n

It’s just that it can be rather draining having to battle it all the time, particularly in the middle of the night. It’s 2.15AM as I type this, I can’t sleep, and I’m worried about all the writing I keep putting off. At this point, negative thoughts seize their chance.<\/p>\n

So it’s a nice surprise when little positive things like this appear, not so much head-swelling as self-pity-demon-slaying. From last Friday’s Guardian<\/em>, an evocative piece by Laura Barton that mentions my old band and quotes my lyrics<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Around that time, my friend Joe made me a compilation tape, full of Kenickie and the Pastels and Felt, and on it an Orlando song that seemed to sum up all that I wanted to leave: “This life that is measured out in bus stops and rain”.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The Orlando song in question is ‘Contained’.<\/p>\n

Weirdly, that comforting Jonathan Richman song she mentions, ‘The Morning of Our Lives’ (from Modern Lovers Live<\/em>), popped into in my head over the last week, for the first time in years.<\/p>\n

Similarly, I’ve mentioned before that Swedish author Martina Lowden quotes me in her novel Allt<\/em>, but I can’t resist mentioning this flattering detail, from her first email to me:<\/p>\n

I quote your lyrics and your internet diary a lot in my book (actually more than I quote Philip Larkin).<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I’m truly not worthy. However, if we must be compared, I would say (and I want this in my obituary), that if nothing else, I definitely have nicer hair<\/em> than Philip Larkin.<\/p>\n

‘And a nicer attitude towards your parents,’ says my mother.<\/p>\n

Which reminds me of Roger McGough’s reply to that most notorious Larkin poem, ‘This Be The Verse’:<\/p>\n

They tuck<\/em> you up, your mum and dad.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

[Erratum: the above is actually by Adrian Mitchell, not Roger McGough. Mitchell’s parody is called ‘This Be The Worse’.<\/p>\n

Confusingly, his chum Mr McGough also<\/em> wrote a Larkin pastiche, ‘This Be Another Verse’. But it’s a rather more serious response, and begins: ‘They don’t f— you up, your mum and dad \/ Despite what Larkin says…’]<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Dear Dickon… just a short hello from me as i was impressed by what i read about you in a Dutch literary section of a national newspaper over the weekend. I’d say that the world would be better if everybody would know who they are and what they do, such as yourself.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Why, thank you. I presume this must be to do with the interview on New Dandyism that I gave the other week.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Someone from the Guardian Guide<\/em> (London only edition, with local listings) emailed me, seeking a few quotes for their section on the city’s New Year’s Eve events. They’re including the Last Tuesday Society’s bash at the Arts Theatre, which I’m DJ-ing at.<\/p>\n

Specifically, they wanted to know which song I’m most likely to play at the stroke of midnight. So I told them. I’ll tell the diary once it appears in the Guide<\/em>, in the vague interests of suspense. But those who have witnessed my DJ sets in the past can make a pretty good guess.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I have a little background voice in my head that constantly mutters ‘you’re a failure, you’re useless, you can’t write, you can’t earn a living, you’re ugly, you’re a waste of skin, no one likes you, you’ll never find love, just occasional toleration, it serves you right, it’s your own fault, give up, die, die, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-839","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/839","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=839"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/839\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=839"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=839"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dickonedwards.com\/diary\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=839"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}