be brief

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I stumbled, and in doing so, kicked it into the gutter. Again.

I stopped. Knelt down on the hot paving stone. Reached out and felt for it.

Finding it, I picked it up carefully. Anxiously.

I could feel the cold metal surface. The familiar buttons. I knew what happened next.

I turned away from the light. Raised my hand, lifted a corner of the stained bandage from my eye.

I lifted it so I could see the screen. And there it was.

The message.

That simple, clear message, no ambiguity. My breath caught in my throat. I knew that I had to, I had to give it back. I must give it back.

That noise, again, the screeching.

The blinding white light and then.

Then nothing.

Gradually, I became aware of my surroundings.

I stumbled, and in doing so, kicked it into the gutter.

(for wordpress writing 101 – day five)

serially lost (1:3)

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 I have been thinking a lot recently about absolutes.

You know, right and wrong, good and bad, left and right, up and down, inside and out, yes and no, true and false. Perhaps even, lost and found.

What strikes me about all of these absolutes is how little relevance they end up having in life. Well, ok, maybe when you are driving, the concept of left and right is fairly fundamental.

But, I do recall, as I followed the tangential arc of learning, how many things learned as a child had to be unlearned, as I discovered that things “don’t work quite like that”. The mind boggling transition from Newtonian physics where everything is grounded by an apple tree to the insane world of quantum mechanics and the trials and tribulations of Schrödinger’s poor mistreated cat.

The point I am (not) making is that as child we often see things in this absolute sense and it is only later, as life happens to us, that we begin to see the ambiguity of our world in all its glory, and sometimes, its horror.

And then the places that shaped us, that seemed like rocks, foundations, safe havens, gradually slip away. My sister texted me today to tell me she was standing outside my former Hall of Residence at University in London. Or, more correctly, she was standing next to a hole in the ground where it used to be. A similar fate met my boyhood school some years back. My foundations not just crumbling, but demolished and replaced. And in their place, in years to come, someone else’s foundations will take their place.

What a race.

And, so far, I am digressing. Filling space on the white screen in front of me as I build up to write about what I really want to write about. Or, perhaps, what I don’t want to write about at all. But will. And, in doing so, learn and move on.

I intend to write about my father.

About what happened to him. Or what he “happened”. And about the consequences. The final end to the right and wrong phase. The time that Schrödinger’s cat finally bit deep into Newton’s apple.

A story which involves a tennis court, a phone call, a student sitting on the kerb, an elephant slide, a drive through the country.

And, the end of absolute thinking.

(for wordpress writing 101 – day four)

three songs

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So (yes, I say that a lot when writing and talking, it’s a kind of way of allowing myself to think before acting, saying or doing anything), this is my second post in response to a prompt posted on the WordPress Writing 101 course. Confusingly, or not, I am actually responding to the prompt to Day Three after posting my response today to the prompt for Day Two and giving some thought, although perhaps not enough, to the prompt to Day One to which I might, or might not return and respond. We shall see what we shall see. Or not.

So (there, see, I’ve gone and done it again), the challenge, prompt or task, for today is to write about “the three most important songs in your life and about what they mean to you”. And, so the prompt goes, this is best done by “free writing” which apparently involves emptying your mind, not censoring yourself, not thinking, and more specifically, letting go and allowing the emotions or memories connected to those three songs to carry you. Presumably, just before the men in white coats begin to knock at the door?

On top of that, those people at WordPress can be hard task masters, the twist is a challenge to commit to writing practice, with a minimum of fifteen uninterrupted minutes per day.

So (again), that introduction has used up pretty much half of my allotted time to free write about songs that mean something. Yes, I write so slowly.

Also, I can’t help sharing how I am writing this, I’m using an app on my Mac called iA Writer Pro, the reason I love it, is that it allows you to type on a blank white screen, in a great old fashioned typewriter font. The idea being to facilitate free writing perhaps? Of course, as you may be able to tell from the photo at the top, I also stopped to take a photo of me writing freely in a non-distracted way. Fail?

Turning now to the three songs, yes, I almost forget that part. A charming trait I seemingly (and yes, I hate adverbs) developed during those long Summer days of my (long ago) youth not answering the question on all those examination papers.

Hell, I’m nearly out of time, maybe I will never get round to those three songs?

And, yes, here are three songs, they may not be the “three most important songs” in my life (and I really do hate such confining questions) but, for better or worse, I do remember them.

So (that word again), I start with “Fanfare For The Common Man” as interpreted in 19XX by Emerson, Lake and Palmer. Why do I remember this? Well, I had fallen hopelessly (adverb alert) in love with a perfect Romanian gymnast at a time when I was convinced I was going to run at the Olympics one day. A perfectly misaligned set of goals and dreams.

She did, I didn’t.

But I never forget the feeling or the power of that dream.

The song was used as a theme tune by the BBC for the Olympics (or something like that). And I went out and bought the 45 vinyl in a paper sleeve, I felt such a rebel. And her biography, in a cheap light blue paperback, with her picture on the front, did I say I was so in love? Oh, and the B side (yes imagine) was the offbeat “Brain Salad Surgery”.

Song number two. Imagine, a Ford Transit van, light blue in colour, wooden slat seating, minimal provisions, everything in a borrowed rucksack. Cash in ten different currencies in a rucksack (Euro, hello, what Euro?). Tents, minimal hygiene, border crossings and girls from foreign parts. And, oh, the friend who actually owned a portable cassette player. And one tape, yes, one tape that we (eighteen of us, all boys) listened to over and over for three weeks as we camped our way around Europe. The song, “Runnin’ Blue” by The Doors. All I can say is “pretty little girl with the red dress on…”, but that’s another post for another day.

And so, the climax.

The third song, just a few years later. “The Knife” by Genesis.

And, no, I really can’t tell you that story.

Not tonight at least.

(for wordpress writing 101 – day three)

(the razor’s) edge

"entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem**"

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searching for an answer, what, where, which, when, how
why
                 look, question, yearn for the truth, the search continues
                                 choices and decisions, facts and figures to be weighed
                                         complexity and detail challenge and defy
logic
                                 when there in front of us
lies the simple truth
                  it’s really not that hard, not that complex
                                    when faced with a choice
                                                         the simplest solution is often the
best

(for justine’s eclectic corner #9 – photography, quotes and poetry – a free verse poem featuring the edge)

** occam’s razor is a problem solving technique, the latin text roughly translates to “no more things should be presumed to exist than are absolutely necessary”

poetry 101 rehab: home

“the ache for home lives in all of us the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned”   ― maya angelou,
“the ache for home lives in all of us
the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned”
― maya angelou
                ever hear about the one who was always alone?
                                                            how he tried as much as he could to atone
                how he woke in fright
                looked round for the light
                                                            and realised at last that being alone was being at home

(for mara’s poetry 101 rehab – home)

teatime (again)

                      tea for two

                           is that the way to woo

                                              or maybe it would be better

                                                                 to open a bottle

or

two?

(for justine’s tea time #8)

blur

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“we’ve got a file on you” – blur

                       press the button
                                       treated just like mutton
                                                               can you hear the cries
                                                              as they fall like flies
                       called to trial
                                                                    and the taste
                       of
                                                                                                                                                   bile

(for wordpress weekly photo challenge – blur)

blur on belgradestreets

blur on belgianstreets

poetry 101 rehab: end

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       once warm flesh, now cold, stone
                                  remembering, now she was alone
                   fingers on her skin, tracing, heart racing
                                  opening up, exposed, aching to sing
                                                                 frozen now, those moments lost
                                                    oh how, she had never
                                                          wanted it, ever, to
                                                                                                                 end

(for mara’s poetry101rehab – end)

ephemeral

"...passed unseen, in a sigh, in a flash – together with the youth, with the strength, with the romance of illusions”  ― joseph conrad
“…passed unseen, in a sigh, in a flash – together with the youth, with the strength, with the romance of illusions”
― joseph conrad

face

book

your

book

don’t look

now

it’s

gone

(for wordpress weekly photo challenge – ephemeral)

ephemeral on belgradestreets

ephemeral on andytownend

ephemeral on belgianstreets

(more) ephemeral on belgianstreets