22/01/2017

Rediscovery

Yesterday's photo of my real-name namesake Captain Scott's ship Discovery, shown again below, was prompted by the plans I am making for another return to Cambridge, also shown below, on a small plane, also below, that now flies from Dundee to Stansted, very close to Cambridge. I found my return to Cambridge last year, the first for many years, to be a trip of unexpected rediscovery and renewal, so now I will return again this year, on writing business, and hopefully next year, and the next... perhaps. I still have hopes and plans to work on, but of course Captain Scott's hopes and plans ended in death amid desperate failure. Don't they all, eventually? Still, we can try. I will be busy. What was it that Scott's companion, Lawrence Oates, said? Oh yes: "[I]...may be some time".






There are links in all of this. Isn't everything linked?

20/01/2017

New chapters

This old and hacked and damaged tree
like old and hacked and damaged me
has buds held in and nurtured deep
emerging soon in Spring, from sleep

18/01/2017

Another day (please go away)

Another day
another person interfering and trying to manipulate what I do
Another day
another person talking nonsense and expecting me to agree
Another day
another person being ignorant and rude, oh no, it was two
Another day
another person trying to change me from the perfectly acceptable way I want to be
Another day
another mindless idiot spouting faith in things they cannot possibly know are true
Another day
another unwelcome and unasked for interruption to the business of being me
Another day
Just leave me damn alone, the lot of you, please do, please do, please do

17/01/2017

A night on the steps again

My most commonly recurring dream traps me in a large dark building full of Escher steps. It is not hard to interpret, I suppose. It is often based on my old tenement in Leith, but widened into further dimensions, and I can see where I want to get to and the steps that seem to lead me there, but when I climb I soon arrive at an impossible gap, so I retrace my path and try again on what seems from a distance to be the correct route, but then I arrive again at a different but also impossible gap to negotiate, and so it continues, and I am always on stairs with no railings above precipitous drops ready to suck me downward to my doom. I was on the stairs again last night, and awoke exhausted, and then immediately began wondering about the important news I am awaiting about a possible big new endeavour. The dream is not hard to interpret, but I wish it would cease, and I would never again be trapped to spend an evening on the impossible and impassable stairways.


M. C. Escher

Experientiality

Days ruined by an accusation of error based on a lie, but before I knew it was a lie I had to spend the several days wondering... Was it true? Had I made that error? What response would I get to my own response that challenged the accuser for the evidence? Full of self doubt, for I do make mistakes. Don't we all? But surely no? Was it true? Again, again, again, in a turning mind that would not let it be, to just wait and see... Until then, today, in eventual response to the refutation and the challenge for the evidence, the story suddenly changed. Oh... So I was right. Oh... So the lie was deliberate. A con by a chancer trying his luck, and now offering up a very different tale, to wriggle away from what he earlier had to say. And then I was invited to let that cynical slyness pass, to avoid making a problem, and to smooth what could become an awkward path. Oh well, okay. So when offered a possible solution by an intermediary, and asked what I wanted to do, I sighed and said, "Just do whatever will make life easier for you, and him (the lying bastard - [that bit unsaid]), and me, I suppose." And so the lie will be ignored, the path will be smoothed, and the days of troubled mind will be set aside in the big and bulging box that is labelled:
________________

EXPERIENCE
________________

10/01/2017

Invasion of privacy

I took a bath. The window was open, but it is too high for even the tallest of voyeurs to see in, but one prying female neighbour was capable of astonishing athleticism... then the photographer arrived.


The cat may have been wondering if she had found a mouse.