Friday 30 March 2007

remembering barbara





There was an old man on the train today, dishevelled and dirty, he wasn't travelling anywhere in particular, he just seemed to like trains. Without pausing for oxygen he recounted a stream of tales from his past, about weird uncles, bad tempered camels and trips to Skeg. Eventually he told the strangers in the carriage that his wife, Barbara, had died just 6 weeks earlier of cancer - at home in their bed. For a reason that I can't quite work out, she had asked him not to call and tell anyone she'd passed until rigor mortis had set in. When the time came and he knew her last breath was spent, he dutifully went to watch films in the other room, waiting for the cold stiffness of death so he could tell someone. His birthday was on the 3rd of March. He sent himself a card and signed it with love from Barbara as she'd told him to.

Saturday 24 March 2007

how people sleep at night



My brother has been working in Iraq, I asked him to write down something for me about his experiences there - the text is taken from the long letter he sent.


Sunday 11 March 2007

puppet strings



Charles Bukowski - Pull A String, A Puppet Moves
each man must realize
that it can all disappear very quickly:
the cat, the woman, the job,
the front tire,
the bed, the walls, the
room; all our necessities
including love,
rest on foundations of sand - and any given cause,
no matter how unrelated:
the death of a boy in Hong Kong
or a blizzard in Omaha ...
can serve as your undoing.
all your chinaware crashing to the
kitchen floor, your girl will enter
and you'll be standing, drunk,
in the center of it and she'll ask:
my god, what's the matter?
and you'll answer:
I don't know,I don't know ...

Friday 9 March 2007

Wednesday 7 March 2007

doll





Ren, my great friend in Brazil, made me fantastic doll - it arrived today - heres a link to her other work. (and a pic of my doll!)





Tuesday 6 March 2007

self





Before the world was made
If I make the lashes dark
And the eyes more bright
And the lips more scarlet,
Or ask if all be right
From mirror after mirror,
No vanity's displayed:
I'm looking for the face I had
Before the world was made
What if I look upon a man
As though on my beloved,
And my blood be cold the while
And my heart unmoved?
Why should he think me cruel
or that he is betrayed?
I'd have him love the thing that was
Before the world was made.
WBYeats