'And I was feeding on the need for you to know me, devastated at the rate you fell below me.'
In times of hardship, I turn to Fiona Apple, to Donna Tartt, Gwendoline Burns, to the strongly artistic, creative women I admire. Women who explore and express their own hardships in their art.
Reading back, it's always on a MONDAY that I quote songlines which grate my emotions raw, wring them out, stretch them over my body, wear them as clothes, my beating heart transparent beneath.
It's always on a Monday that I make my plans to run away, Pack my knapsack, knot a red spotted handkerchief and sling it glibly over my shoulder, meeting the eye of no one as i slink off to a new life where no one knows me and responsibility is something you can shrug off like an itchy old jumper. Discard for the dogs to chew and scrap over. I want no part of it.
By Tuesday I'm reconciled to staying where I am, picking up the pieces, re-assembling, feeding on the great and the good. Wednesday improves with age, Thursday is positively industrious, Friday and the glow stretches from here to there, from me to you. A lifetime of temporary relief?
Showing posts with label fools. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fools. Show all posts
Monday, 18 May 2009
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Backlash
Well. Everyone's up in arms about the G20 police aggression. Looking at it from the inside out and the feeling is that it's old news. Already forgotten. News only lasts a day.
'What a difference a day made, 24 little hours' croons Dinah Washington.
From where I'm sitting things are a little different: I now know just how many people are with me on this - am reassured by how many faces I recognized in the Climate Camp - the place which represented my views and my person the most accurately. There is a community, a scattered community of people who are passionate about living a sustainable existence and the ones I know are young and clever and proactive.
It's heartening. I feel hearted by the G20 protests - I may be in the minority here though.
'What a difference a day made, 24 little hours' croons Dinah Washington.
From where I'm sitting things are a little different: I now know just how many people are with me on this - am reassured by how many faces I recognized in the Climate Camp - the place which represented my views and my person the most accurately. There is a community, a scattered community of people who are passionate about living a sustainable existence and the ones I know are young and clever and proactive.
It's heartening. I feel hearted by the G20 protests - I may be in the minority here though.
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
April Fools
Financial Fools Day is here.
Obama is in our city, the bankers are all in jeans. My boss doesn't want me to go to the protest but luckily I'm going anyway.
At work I have been mainly persuading people not to believe the hype and convincing them they won't get blown up, arrested, involved in a riot, attacked. The only danger for them is that their precarious status quo may just be toppled - forcing them into an embarrassing acknowledgment that Capitalism is shit. God forbid.
Going to the frontline at midday. Will send word.
Obama is in our city, the bankers are all in jeans. My boss doesn't want me to go to the protest but luckily I'm going anyway.
At work I have been mainly persuading people not to believe the hype and convincing them they won't get blown up, arrested, involved in a riot, attacked. The only danger for them is that their precarious status quo may just be toppled - forcing them into an embarrassing acknowledgment that Capitalism is shit. God forbid.
Going to the frontline at midday. Will send word.
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