| The parade of irrelevence |
[Nov. 13th, 2009|09:31 am] |
I wouldn't be suprised if people consider it rather late in the day but I have discovered the comic potential of online profiles. I must have read about three this morning that said something along the lines of "Dn't lk boring ppl - love having fun" I'm waiting in earnest for a profile that reads something along the lines of "Actually, I am pretty boring and would spend my days in a malaise-induced tupour if I possibly could".
The tirade of crap in general day to day existence is rather opressively amusing. It must be pointed out that there is no one form of rubbish spouted by all individuals; I spout alot of depressive self-indulgent rubbish after all; but what I really find interesting is the parade of irrelevence that I encounter daily.
In the staff room at workthe only magazine readily avaliable are things along the lines of Heat or, that eternal magazine, the Sun. I spend about twenty minuites daily reading articles along the lines of "Jordan and Alex in Cheryl Cole blue bow horror";
'It was blue' she tearly announced; the shocking fashion disaster lead to calls for Alex and Jordan to appear on hit show Strictly Come X-Factor to aid our ailing civilisation triamph over this new crisis.
I also watched an athelete on the Wright Stuff talk about how the olympic budget didn't matter, strict adherence not being nessecary, because it is 'inspirational'; I am, once again, earnest; this time earnestly awaiting the next years budget when the government announces trillions for more inspiration projects; a lollipop stick tower to the moon, a mountain made of diamond and a bow of whatever hue for Cheryl Cole. |
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| Thoughts and Musings |
[Oct. 26th, 2009|05:45 pm] |
You know it occured to me that it has been a very long time since I have actually written anything here. I have penned a vast ammount of verbiage, this is true, but all of it is merely self-indulgent and attention-seeking twaddle though, I flatter myself, of a fairly good quality; though also, admittedly, one often badly laid out and immensely ungramatical.
I had a rude awakening this evening, one that I shall not got into. Basically I am immensely upset and realised, with the help of a friend of mine, that my first reaction was one of self-pity and also an impulse to share my self-pity with the world. My perception of myself as one of natures healers, a potential confidant, has always been immensely important and however full of hubris such a view may be it is surely the case that I could not even begin to be such a thing if my first response to every crisis was its magnification.
I couldn't help but be amused by the image; there used to be all these pronouncements against the charging of interest on loans, before greed become synonimous with goodness of course. This is just what I have been engaged in, giving to people extravegantly and generously and then charging vast interest; expecting fauning sorrow at every little hiccup in my existence. Dante consigned people that acted in such a way to the torment of walking constantly in a circle while wearing glorious robes, silk on the outside and heavy lead on the inside, so weighty that the body of such an individual would be crushed.
In many ways I have been crushed, I have spoken of the high ambition of a common happiness and self-respect of lfe for life, of individual for individual. I have waxed lyrical on the things that history, life and fable can teach us and yet all of it has been empty. I have not believed in myself and my individual worth, how then could my words have had any worth themselves?
I'm sure I had more to say, but there is nothing else I really want to say on this point. I feel much better, problems aside, I really am going to attempt to think more positively. I don't have anything to apologise for, in general, I think most of my complaints have been valid but they come from a bad starting position, I really have to attempt to approach things with more humour, I think. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 22nd, 2009|07:28 pm] |
I always used to think 'lousy' was an inellegant word. It doesn't seem to really express anything much in any great detail, just a vague unhappiness. I generally dislike vageries, unless it is purposeful sophistry, which is rather fun.
I have changed my mind however, lousy is a great word, it expresses exactly how I feel. I'm exhausted, unmotivated, hungry all the time and prone to severe headaches. I really have no logical account behind my quick downturn in physical health; I am fairly robust in general, but a general tetchy malaise, a lousiness, is the best term for it I can conjure.
I think it may be brought on by waiting for my results; my life is on hold until I know either that I have failed utterly or just slightly. For better or for worse its been a real wake-up call, perhaps I am ready to actually start doing adult things. I don't know if I am suitable for them though; if I have to undertake an happy job I really won't last long, but then again there seem so few alternatives.
I wonder if I could move to the Hebrides and grow potatoes, I mean, logically? |
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| Under future inconstant stars |
[Oct. 20th, 2009|06:37 pm] |
I miss my part-time job.
I am well-aware that 23 hours still counts as part-time; and the overworked reader will no doubt chastise me for my idleness, but 8 hours was, far and away, enough hours to be indulging in the banal. I argued in my coursework that it seems we often conflate work that is nessecary (the production of things we need) with intolerable burdens. It is something that we must be liberated from, it is only in leisure that we find ourselves. I don't generally believe this, many things that are nessecary can also be happy, but we seem so occupied with making them unpleasent that we can never quite see the potential joys such labours may offer us.
I wouldn't argue that customer service is a nessecary labour, it is merely some of the icing on existence. I wonder however if any of us enjoy the false civility of such a situation. If we have an arrogant customer we have to smile and kowtow, as far as possible, rather than being able to simply tell them just exactly what we think, as any civilised society would surely advocate. Customer service, where it survived, could surely be a nice experience for both parties - how lovely to be helpful and how nice to be pampered on occassion.
They say, as I understand it, that in some distant future when the stars themselves have faded that the whole of the universe will start to decay. Energy doesn't die of course, it cannot be created or destroyed, but the constant expansion of the universe will mean that, for all intents and purposes, the void is infinate and empty. An entire future of quintescent emptiness. Sometimes it sounds horrific, a windy empty infinity like the old afterlifes that people believed in. It may rather be taken in a different way; a future of peacefulness in which these little problems of ours and our entire species are small and forgotten; I am not sure which kind of emptiness I am in general. |
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| A day in the life |
[Oct. 10th, 2009|07:19 pm] |
No we don't sell fish, go away
try again on the second wednesday
We have specials then, so we may have some
or chicken strips, won't that be fun!
No I only sell them, I don't bake
oh just sit down for goodness sake
shouting won't lead to haste
it certainly won't improve the taste
I'm simply working here for a while
so I can live in my acustomed style
yes, that is rice, would you like a bowl?
well i'll pile it on, it'll fill a hole
No, i've never tried it myself, we aren't allowed
could you move along, your creating a crowd
if you want chips, then please just say
but hurry up and get out of my way
No, the price is not to high, it is on the board
above your head the prices are moored
just above the window, there, look
no, the food here certainly doesn't suck
Look, take it outside, leave me alone
I would much rather be at home
but then who would sell you salty treats?
or provide a venue to get you off the streets? |
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| Consistantly |
[Oct. 1st, 2009|08:36 pm] |
I've drank far too much tea; it may have given me acute stomach problems. I'm not sure if its quite an acute stomach problem so much as spontanious burping; its certainly not a gentele ailment. I have my little tradition of sitting on the computer, chatting away, and drinking tea constantly until I go to bed.
I maybe should stop that.
I know this great guy, well, he is hot and sweet, but we have no particular intellectual connection. I am rather worried that he may be slightly obsessive however; I don't know what there is about me to inspire sensual daydreams. Apparently I cause them however, well, within people who have a predisposition to madness at least.
I've been thinking a little about madness recently, well, obsession. I am certainly ensnared by the latter, oh I try not to be, but caring about somebody deeply is difficult sometimes. You try and just have a normal conversation but find yourself being excessively complimentary or excessively offended by the most benign of comments; all out of compassion however. I suppose I should exercise some empathy but its hard being on the periphery of something wonderful.
I think my hair may slowly be taking over the universe.
I need a little rest; I ought to do something self-indulgent and finally get my hair trimmed, I may feel more confident and independant if I get that done. |
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| My Dissertation |
[Sep. 29th, 2009|06:52 am] |
I'm shocked to notice that I haven't updated this for around eight days; at one time I used to update this journal around once a day - I had no social life then and I don't now :P
I've decided however that I should let people know how my dissertation went; I seem to keep telling people the same things so I may as well make a public announcement. I was told i'd fail my dissertation essentially, unless I made some big changes, I did that but I didn't have much time - so the prospects aren't too hopeful.
It was a good piece of work though, and i'm really proud of it. I feel ok actually...i'm sad i'll probably fail but as my mother said 'go for shit or bust'
We aim for expression rather than classiness I think.
If anyone is interesting in what utopian writers can teach us about the good-life and technology just let me know.
I have alot of overtime at work but thinks are ok at present, touch wood, I had a nice chat with John last night and talked with Chris briefly; hopefully i'll have the chance to see some of my friends for this brief interegnum period.
There were some things that upset me recently, it would have been nice to have had more chance to talk to people about my dissertation can get some feedback but people were understandably retiscent to help with such a big task. I've also a bit sad that the guy I had some dates with a while back, the one that ditched me for being plain - you remember?, is dating now. I guess a part of me always hoped he'd realise that nobody would ever be capable of having more affection for him than I did.
But, life is disapointment, we push on regardless.
Speaking of which i'd better get ready for work. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 18th, 2009|08:00 pm] |
The thing i've just noticed about tight deadlines is that it makes you really fill the days with activity. I find that even when I am taking a rest from writing I have to do something else with feverish intensity; or my inactivity feels fairly extravegant. The fact of the matter is that, apart from my work, I have very little of any importance to do. I have the prospect of more shifts at work to look forward to; we seem to have the moderately unfortunate habit of sacking people for ridiculously trivial misdemeanors; the effect of which is that we are now pretty much only half-staffed; you know their desperate when I seem a good covering prospect.
The fact that I have virtually nothing, except my icebergesque student debt, to spend my money on means that after these shifts i'll probably have a GDP equal to that of Switzerland; though with far fewer foreign visitors.
I'm fairly sure i'm coming down with some terrible illness, but then again i'm always sure i'm coming down with some terrible illness. A few days ago I found some red blotchs on my hips and thought I had shingles; I was already planning to stock up on Savlon before my Dad pointed out that they were heat lumps; thankyou Doctor Scott.
It is so infuriating when he is right. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 15th, 2009|07:47 pm] |
My dissertation work is pondering along.
I'd like to say I feel reasonably confident about it but its hard when its been a rather last minuite affair; and you have no independant verification of its quality.
I have no choice but to carry on typing away however; it has caused me a great deal of backpain and pounding of hearts however. I must say I had no conception that life could be quite so stressful; it actually makes me feel physically sick some days and I regularly lay in bed worrying.
Its been quite a project; I don't quite know what i'll do if I fail. |
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| Power of Dreams |
[Aug. 27th, 2009|06:45 pm] |
I am not a big believer in the power of dreams; I do not hold to the idea that they portend the future or are capable of deep and essential meanings. Dreams reflect the mind; a mind of vast ability or perhaps one that is feeling a certain conjunction of emotions will be capable of dreaming things of grandure, meaning and perhaps even which seem to portend the future; this is a reflection of the mind and not of the dream as an entity.
Last night I had powerful dreams due to my recent emotionalness; the fact that my alarm woke me mid way through helped me to remember them too. I dreamed in general terms that those people who had hurt me apologised, in the kindest of ways. The first dream was of my dear Chris; he started a facebook conversation with me and left me lots of messages, even though I wasn't there, begging my forgiveness and expressing his dismay at my lack of prescence; in fact I was in such a state when I woke up that I really had to galvanise myself against checking facebook; though eventually I relented and we can all imagine just how it ended.
The other part of my dream was Daniel; on our night out I took his hands in a way that I have always considered particularly romantic; one holds their hands loose at the wrist and the other participants cups their palms upwards and enfolds the palms of the other, then we kissed. I dreamed of that; we kissed for the longest time with nobody there to bar us or impeed our joy and yet I could hear gentle voices and conversation as if in the distance. We were leaning in for another kiss and then my alarm rang and woke me.
There was this terribly dishy guy in the training session with me today; life has a terrible sense of humour married to inevitability about it. |
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| My Dear Lion |
[Aug. 25th, 2009|06:36 pm] |
Oh dear Lion; what a shame you cannot roar
your teeth are dust; how can you maul?
your legacy isn't even arthritic; merely sore
your territory is barren; your kingdom small.
My dear Lion; hunters came
ever in search of bigger game
even your small realm was torn apart
the victim of the taxidermists art
You are sanitised and on display
in some gallery fronted by a carriage-way
there are vulger types who poorly pay
to see you presented; stuffed with hay
My lion, do not fear
you smell of mothballs and feel threadbare
but through all things transience reigns
time itself will eternally re-arrange
One day the gallery will be a cliff
the road will be the beach
you are long gone, as eternal as a mist
as am I, and mine, and man; all and each |
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| Strange Times and Dating Land |
[Aug. 23rd, 2009|12:01 pm] |
Last night was the date of a university reunion. It was only a small gathering, a few of my old classmates, it was absolutely lovely however. We drank and had a rather silly mixed kissing session. It was one of those trips out that have all the best features of going out at night; as I do not go out often however this was doubly special.
There was, however, a problem.
You see I brought along a date; a guy i've known for a while who is great. I asked my friends and they didn't mind, so I met my date a little earlier and had a drink over a large chat about philosophy. I told him, once or twice, that at any point he should just tell me if he felt awkward; we all know how terrible it is to feel like a third wheel.
It wasn't however; they all got on great, and we had a great time; at least in my feebly ridiculous reading of things. I always flatter myself, to ludicrous extremes, that I can read people rather well and empathise. To me I did everything I could to make everyone feel comfortable and included even though this was no one individuals responsibility. He invited me back home, said I could stay the night to avoid the torturous journey home; an offer which I of course accepted. In the last bar (about an hour after this lovely offer) we were both getting ready to leave and I said we should after i'd finished my drink, he seemed to be enjoying himself so there was no real problem as I percieved it.
Well, he went to the bathroom and went for a cigarette and I haven't seen him since. I noticed after about ten minuites that he hadn't returned; but it was a busy Saturday night; perhaps he had been delayed? I went to search for him - no sign.
The thing that really upset me was the presence of my uni friends; we'd had such a good evening and yet it'd been tarnished in a trice. I don't think I have cried with any deep emotion more than around three times in my life, but I was very near in that bar; keeping a glassy smile on my face was perhpas one of the hardest emotional feats I have completed; perhaps at least it has shown me that I can control my excesses.
As much as i'd like to, love to in fact, I don't think I will trust anyone deeply again for a very long time, perhaps I will never trust another person deeply again in my life. I know that is a grand claim to make; I hope it is, I hope it is ridiculous and melancholic because i'd love to be wrong in this case; but after this again and again I do not see what reason I have to trust anyone. Perhaps the most unforgivable crime about the event was, for me, the fact that now I doubt my ability to truely empathise with people, one of my most treasured possessions. |
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| Right |
[Aug. 11th, 2009|08:34 pm] |
It was a lovely day at my grandparents; you do feel bits of your brain slowly dissolving between the arguments over how to cook fish, but that was nice in its way. I am however extremely hungry for no apparent reason; the prospect of crackers and English butter is rather tempting...no no, apple, apple.
When I was younger I had this extreme faith in plants; I suppose I still do in a sense. I didn't like this pandering, right soils, right temperatures ect ect, I had faith in a kind of floral darwinism; they'll do better without being pandered too. Around the back garden I planted five different varieties of house ivy; of course everyone assumed it wouldn't grow but my green-fingered aggressiveness means we now have a triffid-like super-ivy in the back garden, which I have just fertilised with an apple core.
Yep, that was the entire point behind the story.
My passport isn't going too well; they seem to expect alot of different pieces of paraphinallia that I don't possess; but it'll be worth it, i'd like to visit the continent at some point in the future. My main priority is still a trip to Cornwall though; I keep thinking of those wonderful granite cliffs and the sultry victorian splendor of it all.
I'm a dreamer however; how sad I would be if anything had changed! how it should stay as my youth records it; yet I am sure the botanical paradise that was Trenance will just be another park and the Gannel will just be another estuary; but still, i'd love to find out in the company of those I love. |
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| Babylon |
[Aug. 10th, 2009|08:43 pm] |
Third day of my Babylonian capitivity; so far its not going too badly, apart from a little loneliness. I must say a part of my relative reconcilliation to my isolation is due to seeing Roger today and getting pleasently tipsy and the fact that I will be seeing my grandparents tommorrow.
I occassionally daydream about Roger; his lovely beard and curly ginger hair; its a pleasure to have his company generally once a week; and today we drank alot of wine and chatted; it was about philosophy so wine always helps. My grandparents are also lovely people, though I seldom daydream about them it must be said; they shall cook me a strangely quirky lunch and tell me about their ailments; these small pleasures are very important when you feel as if you are on unsteady ground.
I say unsteady but that is due to me making it unsteady; I spend so much time ruminating on my failings that even triamphs turn into insubstantial phantoms. It does feel like a large failing that I haven't managed to convince any one of the people I quite wished to visit to doso; it is strangely hurtful reading about them dancing each night and then being told that they are too busy to visit you. I have wine, music and song here in noble proficency; I respect peoples virtue and space, I am not sure that my company should be considered some form of poisoned chalice, as it clearly is.
That is the problem; that every failing feels like a personal one. If only people were cognicent of this and exercised a bit of empathy...well, my existence would have been an happy one rather than something often tinged with sadness; though being rather phelgmic I suppose I would have only found other sadnesses.
But still, what to do. |
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| Homecomings |
[Aug. 5th, 2009|09:54 pm] |
I'm actually starting to dread next week.
It is always nice having time alone but an entire week will perhaps make me a little, well, irrational is perhaps the only way to say it. I find my way barricading myself into my bedroom; its amazing just how many noises a small house can make in the evenings.
I was fairly convinced that i'd be doing something, or that my manipulation (subtle and kind-hearted of course) of one or two individuals would perhaps bear some fruit and I would have a visitor; but none or forthcoming. The last time that somebody visited it was quite a large scale disaster so perhaps I should be happy? Nevertheless it seems that I may have to be pro-active and find somebody to invite - I suppose at least i'll have time to get engrossed in my work. |
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| Poetic protestations |
[Jul. 17th, 2009|06:37 pm] |
I had last saturday off work; my parents went away for their wedding aniversery and my mothers birthday to the ancient city of York; which is a beautiful place for a weekend. I didn't feel like leaving an empty house and coming back to one so I merely stayed at home with the approval of work.
I think the fact that essentially i've had two full weeks off work has meant i've had an holiday from things, MSN, concerns, uni work and lots of things I should have been focused on. I was thinking about this and realised that I do this occassionally quite alot and usually it does me a power of good; I suppose i'm in the mood for the world again, i'm sick of keeping it at a distance.
I think there is alot I do want to avoid, i'm growing up and have two months to start and finish my dissertation, my friends have moved away and I have few outlets for socialising or pleasent distraction. Me and Neil were always close friends, and did alot together, but I guess I assumed that when he moved away i'd just tick along the same as usual; its a real shock to find just how much I miss him.
I hate that cliched saying 'you never know what you've got until its gone' because that has seldom been the case with me, I knew very well just how precious Neil was - no, I suppose though it is one thing to know you are going to miss someone and another to actually experience it.
...but I am ready to grow up, I really feel as if I can face the world without being heavily distracted with my own problems anymore. |
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| Fires |
[Jun. 30th, 2009|07:10 pm] |
I really should update my journal after so much time; but as I have nothing of more than casual interest I feel I should deflate any moderate expectations of news, gossip or anything more than a casual update of my scurring forths.
I was feeling fairly upbeat about most things in general up until a few weeks ago, well, around a month or two. It all started with Daniel; we were meant to go out for a night, completely innocent, but due to a number of factors that are completely unknown to me he never responded later on in the day; so I had no idea as to a meeting place or even if he was interested, since then we haven't spoken. I really didn't know how upbeat Daniel made me feel; I knew we wouldn't be together but it was really so joyous to have someone literature, educated and handsome interested in me; particularly someone I had felt alot for over many years; it gave me a sense of real pride in my existence.
Since everything went the way of the dinosaurs everything seems far less joyous, work and men don't have the same appeal for me since I lost Daniel. I wonder when I turned into that man who sees other humans as appendages or salves to smoothe his ego; have I always been quite so vacuous? is it something I can break out of? I think this is perhaps the first time for a long while that i've actually said to myself 'I want to be fine without men, happy in my own skin' hopefully that is a progressive rather than simply nessecary step.
There was a lovely portrayal in G.K Chestertons "The Napoleon of Notting Hill" of a society that gives up the belief in revolution in the cause of evolution instead; everything moves slowly, preserved in aspic. Society is liberal, dictorial, safe, sterile and benign. I suppose I feel very much that my existence is like that; the music I like is as sour as the old books I love, still wonderful and yet lacking in fire. Yet...I don't want fire, there is a big but, I want mundane, I love aspic; but I want a different kind of banality; I want to be in a lovely affectionate comfortable and slowly evolving relationship in which I do not command and am not commanded rather than a life over dominion over everything I percieve - ashes of the fire of others. |
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| Jugganaut |
[Jun. 9th, 2009|12:28 pm] |
We were coming along the dual carriageway towards a bridge over the motorway, next to us on the right was a large jugganaut lorry; I said to my Dad 'I'm like Mum, I don't like those things' a sentiment with which he agreed. It was only a throw-away comment but a few seconds later as I absent-mindedly watched the white lines on the road I suddenly noticed that we were at an odd angle that was becoming more and more pronounced. I was very shocked by this as my Dad is an extremely careful and often a fairly slow driver, just as I was about to comment on this I heard a crunch as we suddenly swung around and my side of the car was pushed towards the edge of the motorway bridge.
Nearly being killed is a strange sort of feeling; everything happened so slowly, it registered that we'd been hit by the lorry, that my Dad's side of the car was being partially crushed and that we were in danger of being pushed over the edge.
My Dad was completely silent; I grabbed hold of the door and kept exclaiming 'oh!' 'oh!' but neither of us screamed or shouted. I was sure that my father would be killed, and I assumed that i'd be extremely lucky to survive, then we stopped.
I was stunned into silence, we both just sat there for a second or two. I knew exactly what had happened, it was like I was hyper-aware of just what was occuring in those few seconds that we were hit...its strange, I was only half taking things in beforehand. Its up a road that my Dad often used to race in his cycling days so he was telling me his stories and I was giving my normal'oh yes?' 'really?' contribution; imminent death focuses the mind wonderfully.
Its strange, I am bored of talking about it, and yet I can't talk about anything else. |
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| The Battle of Henshaw Place |
[Jun. 4th, 2009|06:35 pm] |
I went to vote today of course; it would have been more convienent if they'd just had the residents of Ilkeston North vote on the moon; we have a purpose-build community hall but for some strange byzantine reason we decided to appeal to voter apathy by siting the ballot in the back of beyond.
Anyhow, I was faced with a bit of a dillema. For the council elections I had the same choice as last time; Labour, Conservatives or the BNP. I remember once I voted Labour, just to stop the other two, and seriously hated myself afterwards so, as I did last time, I defaced my ballot.
I believe it is extremely important to use your vote, without preaching it seems to me that it is a right many people died to ensure we possess. I don't see why we are faced with this situation where we cannot register our hatred of the options offered however on the ballot; we should have a 'none of the above' option; it is the only way to ensure true democracy, that surely implies that we have the right to register our disgust just as much as our consent.
As I was stuck behind some immensely slow and unempathetic older people I caught one of them talking about how people should be made to vote; that seems as logical as having people executed for attempted suicide, as the old cliche goes.
I was conflicted due to the European Elections. I had the choice of Scargil and his party; that was very tempting. I feel though that my form of Marxism is perhaps different from his; the bugbear of the left is our tendancy to consume each other; we are like Saturn and his children in that regard. I could have voted for the Liberals who I am cordially apathetic towards or I had one other option...the Greens.
Now, I have deep problems with the Greens, they have this strange oil and water socialism that dare not speak its name; but I think if any of the parties on offer works constructively in Europe with a broadly left-wing agenda it is them; for the right reasons. I can't physically bring myself to vote Tory...it'll be a cold day in Hell before I ever trust them, but at least you know they stand for venility and corruption. Labour...well, they have filled the halls of Parliment with panderers and sycophants, they have made a mockery of our great mother parliment and their intellectual ancestors.
They wear red trimmed with ermine and coronets beneath their Phrygian caps...I almost wish I could bring myself to believe in the religion of my ancestors, with its shamans and spirits, I would curse them on the bones of my distinguished anticendants.
On the positive side I was talking to my Dad when he got in from work and we suddenly heard loud BNP propaganda coming from the street - they had the nerve to have a car fitted with loudspeakers. I of course shouted out accross the street "SOD OFF" and also "Fascists!" which I am quite proud of.
I defend everyones right to free speach; including my own. |
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| Propaganda Duel |
[May. 28th, 2009|07:22 pm] |
I was looking at my feet and my pale, hairy legs. Between my toes the sandy mud was squealching in that wonderfully rich and clean way that it can sometimes feel at the coast. A wave lapped past my feet and back outwards; I looked up and on my right was a spur of rock like those on which you find the best mussles. There is something very rewarding about picking mussles; my grandfather used to eat them after we boiled them in vineger water; they tasted like boiled rubber and smelt like fried rubber but there is something infinately satisfying about those memories.
I miss the sea so very much; I never used to understand, I really didn't, how my ancestors could spend all their time on boats "why wouldn't you want to settle down?" but I find myself dreaming of the ocean and Cornwall, alot. I am going to visit it soon, even if it is on my own I am going to Cornwall.
I remember even when I was very young I used to look at the water and have this strange perception that it could transport you through time; there is this peninsula near a beach called Porth Leven near Newquay on which their used to be a bronze-age village. It must have bene a very small place on the edge of the world, but if you looked at the sea from that spot and listened to the wind and kept one eye on the rabbit holes I could see it all, past and future, see the domininion of humanity and imagine those future days when the rabbits burrow in Rome, when London is the demesse of gentele and quiet fishes and when humanity is just another strata of rock; and it is such a wonderfully uplifting feeling as if the sky was made of crystal and its surface shines with the reflected lights of Heaven.
I had another dream afterwards, an horrific one. I was in a town nearby called Heanor and a terrible storm started. I decided to walk home by a big church of brick and iron after the storm had ripped vast voids in the surface of the graveyard. I noticed that there were parts of human bodies visible, skeletal hands, arms and the like. I came across on grave in which I could see a skull and the two hands next to its head; as if the unlucky denizen had been buried alive.
I suppose it was so horrific because it was so mundane; the storm had made everything look beautifully varient to the norm; and that was horrific. This featureless skull was so evocotive; I couldn't find my way to Cornwall, heaven was locked to me; I found myself in some mundane, horrific simply novel world.
I find myself listening to the same song again and again; it is cheerful and yet the words are sad, its an 80's song and the video is all flowy, billowly clothing and wonderfully theatrical. I am not in one of my cheerful moods today and I think the video is so attractive because it is me when I am cheerful; it seems to celebrate something fairly ridiculous and yet immensely important and to have a point that cannot be discerned.
I remember those stories about all those proud and ancient cultures our ancestors encountered, greeted, and promptly wiped out. They had this way of adopting our dress and weapons without understanding them so that you'd end up with truely hileriously ridiculous combinations; I wonder if I am like that; if there is a certain element of majesty about me whcih makes me so much more ridiculous than I would be if I was totally uncivilised. |
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