The Brute throttled Red of Tulips, do like a splash of colour in the park, drawn even deeper with the lack of sun of course, the hillside plump with gorse, canary yellow, refulgent with the summer pong of coconut butter over the brim, yes, the wild, wild grey dirge of the sea
Knight of Cups ……..
audio of text
this morning, whilst daydream pottering over a cup of Mint and Liquorice tea found myself being stared down by a cat through the window, Obsidian stillness, killer gaze curious, goes deep, this the knowledge of being watched, for once we were hunters… and the sometimes hunted i would prefer wolves? yes she will come, and there will be many but before, face you down, a moment of stillness, you will know it will happen, you will know but a leopard? face in the bush? part of that the nameless dread… dropping silently from above, else stealth pounce, all claw, fang then rend… the candle wick of life, snuffed to nothingness ….
audio of text
yeah yeah psssssht, shoo… go poo in someone elses garden!… ha, gosh gibberish, fortunately don’t get many leopards, or for that matter wolves round these thar parts
These the weeks of leaf spawn every branch, every tree, bud burgeoning forth, stickily, unfurling into a majesty of leaf and blossom something of gossamer, a slither, a shimmer, each bush, coming into the pomp of full summer regalia yesterday in surrey, midst the sunshine, the hillside awash with the blowsy froth spray of white blossoms a tumult upon us! tho long the clandestine growth, a surreptitious summoning each branch, so recently a brittle looking stick, dowdy within its surround of mud puddle, now, pulsing with lurid colour and vibrancy the tweetle twerp of bird song!… rapture in miniature… the local, the particular… this is mine… yes! i am here! whatever the creak of bone, the reluctance of limb, so too, this season always makes my heart sing
audio of text
ha! i write the same thing every time, as does the spring… making, imagining, the same different same… its rhythmic, insistent beauty ………………………….. ….. classic portmanteau post…. i finally turned the clock in the car forward… yes, as well you might have noticed, the seasons have changed and heres Finns brief vid of ping pong… impressive he filmed anything one handed… just a genteel warm up, but such a reassuring sound the plunkety plonk… and i rather enjoyed the finale of his failed lunge and groan!
ah my beautiful ickle teensy tomatina seedlings! doing well so far!… reared on nowt but love… and a page from Ulysses each and every morning, read in my broadest, softest faux brogue, just so that they know, although we humans are insistent on meaning, that there lurks a beauty in the baffling this life business is a doddle! just create beneficial circumstances, pour in sunshine and water… and all will flourish (then wither and die, yeah, yeah) as true for you and me, as for the seedlings… here the right circumstances are household compost from the garden … think old toenail clippings… regurgitated bean burrito from 2012! oh and then popped a few of last years toms, ooze gunk of seeds smeared over the top of the soil… hey presto! … and for me?…hmmm … ah since a neanderthal munched down on the primordial proto cabbage leaf (‘where theres muck thers brassicas’… he was clearly a yorkshire hominid) man has been straining at (and ate) vegetable metaphors… so enuff of that mostly i like watching things grow whilst coding… beards… and stuff right enough ruminating, off to buy cream puffs and cherry tart from the supermarket wish me luck, tis peculiar out there, laid low with dismal snot cold i haven’t left the house since wednesday! x ‘april is the coolest mumpfz’
i should have been a PROFESSOR! ahh the bitter sweet wail of a singular pang of remorse professor of whatever? something gestalt weltscmerz zeitgeist schadenfreude! professor emeritus of eurhythmy and yodelling at the university of uuulan bator i’d be in my lair, surrounded by fusty old books of spells, the mild pong of real ale and stale ganja… with a view down through the woods to the sea beyond actually ulan bator is probs some way from the sea?… so mbe hawaii! or totnes! occasionally i’d listen to birdsong, roll up my sleeves and saunter off through the spring succulence, to deliver a lecture
decided all this during my mid afternoon candlelit bath… the life of a freelancer, ostensibly this whim had been to help ‘resolve issues with my javascript objects, how they can be recalibrated to hoover up the remaining bitBytes’ instead lounged in a pool of patchouli, awash with regret off to yoga, but when i’m back, all nidra(ed) out, i shall rummage through the sea chest and dust off my certificate ‘bsc hons chemistry, third class, university of exeter 1987’ and ponder on all that might have been… possibly a bit bored?
‘big wheel keeps on turning’ 3rd puncture, second new inner tube in about a week… and i haven’t even got to seaford and back bike punctures are like buses (or not like buses!), none for a year, then all at once time to wield spoons, disembowel and rummage around midst its rubbery guts… the foghorns are a calling, that whale song bellow looking at pic, could probs do with scrubbing my derailleur too… not a euphemism curiously, on the rare occasions i do anything practical, involving a toolbox, like putting up a blind, bashing a screw with a hammer (yeah i got this!) i always feel like i am impersonating dad.. a strangely comforting mimicry, sure one day Finn will be cheerfully mirroring me
Blimey O’Reilly got a postcard from Finn (away working on a ski season) Astonishing! Suspicious parent suspects he must want something??? yet there is always the slender possibility he’s entered the realm of compassionate humanity In other news i’m allergic to all the beautiful flowers in the world, can’t stop sneezing or possibly i’m allergic to work? yes yes. oh and managed to put more memory in computer, just sticklebrick click it in, now it will vroom… and not a breeze what my phone number currently is? old one or new one? neither? both? end of enthralling news flash x
yesterday i ended up sleeping at Triund (about 3000m) high above the snow line, a place with a fantastic view of the local mountain range, the 3 biggest being Moonpeak, something unutterable and the Matterhorn(!?), possibly not! these are somewhat tiddlers (5000m or so) compared to the mighty Annapurnas of last year, but none the less, not to be sniffed at!
as ever, rather an accidental Himalayan adventure, a leisurely breakfast and i thought, well maybe i’ll just go for a stroll up the gorge… and one footstep leading to another, just kept going beautiful scenery, Rhoddedenhdrons, a view back to Mcleod ganj, as the path zig zagged higher and higher but the mountains still shyly hidden, tantalising, tucked down behind the ridge! then i was amongst the snow, in places it was a bit dodgy, a lot dodgy! but tip toed extremely carefully, you always have to when your walking alone i met a few other tourists coming down and they told me how amazing it was up top, but also, that the lodge was open. hmmm why not! with a final heave ho and a huff and a puff, i was up at the top gorgeous! gob smacking view! there was a chai stall and the owner said i could stay in the lodge, it was already getting somewhat late for traipsing back down there were 5 blankets, couldn’t be that cold? could it? having become somewhat neurotic about falling off the cliff, on the way up, fear is a very versatile thing, i now began to think ‘just me and the chai bloke up here, maybe he’ll murder me in the night! chuck my body into the gorge’ It was a sumptous sunset! tinge of pink on the peaks, finally softening further, nestling to purple, then black .. then the chai shop bloke said he too was going down, he was missing his fanily.. and would be back in the morning click your fingers, instantly my mood changed, he was now my only friend in the entire world! thinking ‘aargghhh don’t go, don’t leave me here alone, not with the ghosts, monsters and demons’ but off he toddled a curious night, just me and the mountains and the stars.. sitting outside around a tin with a small smouldering fire in it, raking up the embers, huddled right up to it, sucking up every last iota of warmth trying very hard to be alone and not lonely the stars were incredible, the moon but a few days old, laggardly tarrying, chasing after the sunset then the big slow wheel, the reel of the stars overhead… Orion… as ever even in the dark, i felt loomed over by the immense sky straddling bulk of Moonpeak a very chisel jawed, sculpted rugged mountain strange to think that the next human being was 2 hours walk down, at least a 1000m lower from me you’d think the mountains would be utterly silent at night.. and mostly they were, but every creak and whistle had me wide eyed staring about, peering at night, the light from snow and reflected starlight has a peculiar quality sound muffled, yet bounced in bed at night i was totally frozen, couldn’t sleep for the nagging quality of the cold then halfway through the night. rustle crackle yikes! what be that! i turned on the torch, to find a mouse! he was a bold little brown thing, big ears, rodent twitchy busy guzzling away on one of my biscuits! sneaky. aren’t mice supposed to be scared? run away at the light? well not this one, he hopped up close for a further rummage i gave him a biscuit and was really rather pleased to see him. a living creature! eventually i slept woke in the morning, survivor, with the light, and a lot of shouting and hooting outside 4 tibetan monks having a snowball fight! they’d got up very early and trekked up, to hang a few new prayer flags, or so in an exuberant mood, kids at the seaside, they gave me tea and took an awful lot of photos all the tibetans seem much wealthier than the local indians, better educated, better clobber, not quite sure why! anyway after brekkie, the slow trudge and snow slide back down!
