Here I'll never sleep again

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSoVQp3nN9g&feature=channel_video_title
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What a little vessel of sadness we are, sailing in this muffled silence through the autumn dark.

1. http://bethandcarissa.blogspot.com/
   A beautiful blog that deserves much attention and loving. The photographs captured resonate the essence of each chosen theme.
2. http://weeklytapedeck.com/
   A rockin' indie music site, similar to Indie Rock Cafe but easier to scroll through.

The sun's the only man for the pains and aches

Finished The Sea, at last.
A rare and special book, written with a poetic loveliness.
Strange but true, it was difficult to sustain my reading... was tripped with uncertainty of Banville's style but eventually found no escape to it. A painfully haunting story of the persuasive and poisonous power of memory.

“There are times, they occur with increasing frequency nowadays, when I seem to know nothing, when everything I know seems to have fallen out of my mind like a shower of rain, and I am gripped for a moment in paralysed dismay, waiting for it all to come back but with no certainty that it will.”

I was thinking of Anna. I make myself think of her, I do it as an exercise. She is lodged in me like a knife and yet I am beginning to forget her. Already the image of her that I hold in my head is fraying, bits of pigments, flakes of gold leaf, are chipping off. Will the entire canvas be empty one day? I have come to realise how little I knew her, I mean how shallowly I knew her, how ineptly.

I never had a personality, not in the way that others have, or think they have. I was always a distinct no-one, whose fiercest wish was to be an indistinct someone. I know what I mean.

How is it that in childhood everything new that caught my interest had an aura of the uncanny, since according to all the authorities the uncanny is not some new thing but a thing known returning in a different form, become a revenant? So many unanswerables, this the least of them.

I marvelled, not for the first time, at the cruel complacency of ordinary things. But no, not cruel, not complacent, only indifferent, as how could they be otherwise? Henceforth I would have to address things as they are, not as I might imagine them, for this was a new version of reality.

“Life, authentic life, is supposed to be all struggle, unflagging action and affirmation, the will butting its blunt head against the world's wall, suchlike, but when I look back I see that the greater part of my energies was always given over to the simple search for shelter, for comfort, for, yes, I admit it, for cosiness. This is a surprising, not to say shocking, realisation. Before, I saw myself as something of a buccaneer, facing all-comers with a cutlass in my teeth, but now I am compelled to acknowledge that this was a delusion. To be concealed, protected, guarded, that is all I have ever truly ever wanted, to burrow down into a place of womby warmth and cower there, hidden from the sky's indifferent gaze and the air's harsh damagings. That is why the past is just such a retreat for me, I go there eagerly, rubbing my hands and shaking off the cold present and the colder future. And yet, what existence, really, does it have, the past? After all, it is only what the present was, once, the present that is gone, no more than that. And yet.”

“These days I must take the world in small and carefully measured doses. It is a sort of homeopathic cure I am undergoing, though I am not certain what this cure is meant to mend. Perhaps I am learning to live amongst the living again. Practising, I mean. But no, that is not it. Being here is just a way of not being anywhere.”

Sun

Winter

It is the lovely and crisp time of the year once more.
I woke two days earlier to air fresher and sharper in a cleanliness. This was weather I yearned for -- yet temperaments that chilled my heart. What arrives with the cold reminds me of personal predicaments in the dark. And I don't want to recall some things... yet the winter bears it anyway. Where did the sun go!

You used to have all the answers
And you, you still have them too

Wondering; thinking.

The Sea

"Happiness was different in childhood. It was so much then a matter simply of accumulation, of taking things-new experiences, new emotions-and applying them like so many polished tiles to what would someday be the marvellously finished pavilion of the self. And incredulity, that too was a large part of being happy, I mean that euphoric inability fully to believe one’s simple luck."

"The room was much as I remembered it, or looked as if it was as I remembered, for memories are always eager to match themselves seamlessly to the things and places of a revisited past."

Morning Glories

Morning wakes in a breath of air damp with the sweet scent of dew,
with its silver sky a clustered fog from the early showers.
The sea laps its swift waves under a weary blanket of blue
Behind a rusted rail that bears trumpet-like purple flowers.
The vines twine and twist, weave and wreathe in long lines of summer green
That blossom buds which curl, furl and spiral in quiet blooming.
They stretch their necks to the wide-rimmed sun whose light shines clear and clean,
And soak in its warm heating rays to catch its golden glowing.
The papery petals burst sideways, streaked pale with pure sunlight,
Turning translucent, soft like tissue pulp, as the day runs on.
But as midday passes, they start to shrink, shriveling in sight;
Then at long last, all parched and wilted, they wither with a yawn.
Night sweeps its dark cloak over the trees and stubs the void with stars.
How fleetingly the morning glories live, lovely as they are.

No, I haven't

Just because I'm losing doesn't mean that I'm lost

Officially losing one by one.
When was the last time I wrote a lengthy post?
Suppose I've lost that too.

A continuation; A remembrance; A reminder.

And sometimes I recall things
That I do not want to remember

As I dig out the dregs of the apricot jar.

What happened to these lovelies?

What always happens.



And I am thankful that I'm alive.

I struggle with the feeling that my life isn't mine

Twice, I sat by the window of a car during the rain
reminding myself to remember.


















And when I remember, I recall that I remind
myself to remember.

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Genius of a musician.
Didn't have a splendid day.

May the force be with you

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Help me in my Jedi training as I confront Volkswagen's threats to Planet Earth
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Credits to my sister!

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