Dropped in to the ICA, where there's an art book fair going on. Not really worth toiling up the stairs for. When I was there, it was kind of like a private party for all the small press publishers to swank at each other. As always, there was lovely looking stuff, but really, who has money to buy books and magazines like this? I was particularly amazed, at one table, to see a yellowed, crumbly 1950's paperback of JUNKY, with a lurid cover showing a vaguely Burroughs-like man trying to throttle an angry, writhing bimbo. Pencilled inside the cover was '£980' or thereabouts, I can't remember definitely. Maybe I was mistaken and it was 9.80. Even that would be insane... In the middle gallery was a show I really liked, crude paintings by one David Robilliard, of young men, with wistful quotes from his own poetry printed on the canvasses. There was something about them that really touched and charmed me, and I was sad to see that he had died of AIDS in the late 80's.
Last night's weird dream: People were looking at a very popular poster, similar to the RL Athena one, of a muscleman cuddling a wriggling infant.They were all saying Ahhh, how sweet, and such, but it was obvious to me that the baby's body was positioned to form a sort of swastika shape and it was a subliminal message to get people to become neo-Nazis!