Deadweight

This is the problem. Me. Yes we know that. Be more specific. I will try. Either I am under the influence of a diabolical hex and the forces of darkness have conspired to torment me until death or, I need to be more conservative,  guarded, restrained,  what you will.



The roses have forgotten to keep quiet. They can't help doing their screaming gold thing in spite of the blanket of shadows draped permanently over the sky and everything else. Very bad things are happening in the immediate vicinity and miraculously my heart doesn't just stop and call it a day. I am physically well, a bit thin, and taught like violin string catgut.

Lots of Green Because Lots of Water

Jacob is forging his personality. Not the right word is it; he isn't hammering out lots of virtues and character traits on a big anvil. Nevertheless, he is becoming more of a little man with his foibles, mores and whims. Smiley, beguiling and capricious.

Fresh Out of the Bath

Before Going Into the Circus

Little does he know; the biggest circus is outside the marquis. 

Q: What's the best way to kill a circus?

A: Go for the juggler.

Went to the circus last Friday. We were sitting right at the front so we could almost touch the tigers and camels. It seemed to go down well. The clowns weren't particularly funny though. Perhaps life is too funny to be outdone by a mere circus. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRZYOobTKFg

If you manage to watch this clip from Body heat it looks completely surreal. Ned the anti-hero is up to his neck in trouble, but he can't see it, and, even if he could he still wouldn't have the steel to do anything about it. I believe the technical term for this is dramatic irony.

Today's poem:

The cut and thrust
The lust or bust
The fragrant must
All turn to dust
All burn or rust
All die a death

And I would learn
In vain to spurn
To wait my turn
To be debased
To be replaced
To die a death

I am the least
I am the feast
I am the beast
Emerged from mud
To drink your blood
And die a death.

Vital Relative Density

The title of this page refers to something stupid and pretentious. But perhaps there is something important in there.

My Vital Relative Density

Or not.

Any road up. I am overflowing with energy, good will and optimism. Actually, this is an abject lie. I am feeling insecure, dejected and rather pessimistic. I'm afraid that I will die lonely and withered like an old tree. Everything is in turmoil. The lawyer is in the middle of replying to the summons from Loreto. Mercifully she hasn't been in contact for the last week and Jacky has been with her. Today, in the afternoon he will be with me. 

A Couple of Days' Holiday

 Went away with Ana last week just for two days. Did a bit of walking and gastronomic tourism (eating like a pig). Very nice and restful. Lots of flowers and trees and rain.

The Living Room of the Rural Tourism House

Time to come clean: 

Don't Want to Become a Ghost

I suppose what I really need is to find a healthy level of independence. This will require, forbearance, tolerance and self-discipline. While these are qualities which are not innate in me, I can procure them. These days you can buy everything in shops. A quarter of forbearance please! Forbearance is imperial.  

   

Today's poem: (a bit of a poem)

His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o'clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.

I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.

Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.

i ching

My delicious, gorgeous boy

About to have my 4th coffee of the day. Energy levels are high, which is just as well. I have 6 and half more hours of classes, I've already had 4 and it's only 14:20.

I have to go back to court tomorrow to find out why no documents have arrived with respect to the custody of Jacky. This country is slower than a very slow sloth on sleeping pills.

Impossible to communicate with loreto about anything. Fruit cake, march hare, hatter.

I have 2 days holiday next week and will almost certainly go somewhere secluded. A deep hole in the forest perhaps, with a large supply of cured beef and books.

Difficult to explain about American excess; may not understand an original Triumph Bonaville!!!!

Brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home

I am the captain of my pain
Tis the bit, the bridle,
The trashing cane
The stirrup, the harness
The whipping mane
The pickled eye
The shrinking brain
O brother, buy me one more drink
I'll explain the nature of my pain
Yes, let me tell you once again
I am the captain of my pain

O brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home

I cannot blame it all on her
To blame her all would be a lie
For many a night I lay awake
And wished that I could watch her die
To see her accusing finger spurt
To see flies swarm her hateful eye
To watch her groaning in the dirt
To see her clicking tongue crack dry
O brother, buy me one more drink
One more drink and then goodbye
And do not mock me when I say
Let's drink one more before I die

O brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home

Well I've been sliding down on rainbows
Well I've been swinging from the stars
Now this wretch in beggars clothing
Bangs his cup across the bars
Look, this cup of mine is empty!
Seems I've misplaced my desires
Seems I'm sweeping up the ashes
Of all my former fires
So brother, be a brother
And fill this tiny cup of mine
And please, sir, make it whiskey
For I have no head for wine

O brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home

I counted up my blessings
And counted only one
One tiny little blessing
And now that blessings gone
So buy me one more drink, my brother
Then I'm taking to the road
Yes, I'm taking to the rain
I'm taking to the snow
O my friend, my only brother
Do not let the party grieve
So throw a dollar onto the bar
Now kiss my ass and leave

O brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home

Find your own sun

The sun never rests (but you can turn it off)

Round here, you have to make your own sun. The trick is to fill yourself up with high density nuclear reactions and then just radiate.

Everything is crazy at the moment. There must be a much more prosaic way to express it but this escapes me, as does much. I am still waiting for the papers to arrive from Loreto and, until then, there is little I can do.

The mechanism is delicately balanced but goes like clockwork

I am living on coffee and a mixture of staples; ice cream,  chocolate and toast (for the vitamin c)

Beach day at the weekend

Roses paying  homage to themselves

Lots of exciting, but rather worrying variables in the mix. Bring it on!!!

mayday mayday!

Holy day. Workers' day, May day. A very good day today, with plenty of relaxation and quite a few pictures. So rather than bore you with superfluous discourse, here are some splashes of my day.

THE BREAKING OF THE FAST

THE STACKING OF THE FIREWOOD

THE HAIRDRESSING OF THE BEASTS

THE CONTEMPLATION OF THE FLOWERS

THE LOPPING OF THE BRANCHES

THE LUNCH WITH CANDLES AND WINE

REVISE USE OF DEFINITE ARTICLE. 

CERTAINLY NOT HOW I FEEL AT PRESENT