It has not escaped my attention that a number of one’s fellow peeps in the fields of Blog have gone very quiet. Although there has been a gradual falling off, it suddenly feels as though the sound I most consistently hear is my own voice cheeping away. All things must pass, and this is the way of the world, both Virtual and Real. But in Real Life one is more constrained. What person has not fantasised about reinventing themselves, discarding the life they are living and replacing it with a shiny new one? By all accounts, it seldom works out the way it should and the result is usually depressing; shiny new life is quickly tarnished and the self that one thought to escape comes and takes up residence, or one wakes up on the cold hill side where “no birds sing,” in faery lands forlorn. But never mind, the fantasy persists. In Virtual Life, though, chucking in one identity for another is relatively painless. I know of one blogger, at any rate, who has done this – died and reincarnated, as it were, and there appear to be no ill effects. I am not particularly drawn to the idea of reinventing, being a sign-reader pure and simple. But. There is always a But, oh creative ones (as any fule know), or there should be; a get-out clause, a divine flaw in the immaculate pattern. For it is the playfulness of this endeavour that appeals to me, in the land of no fixed signposts and obscure boundaries. So it may be that I change my colours and clothing - or disappear in a puff of smoke (Camel, I wish).
I have been steadily, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say unsteadily, plodding on with the onerous Lenten task of poetry-making. Strange that an activity of such central importance in my life should feel heavy. It isn’t, of course. It is pure delight, when I do it. It is only the not getting down to it that is difficult, the coming up against lack of strength, physical and psychic, and the Issues around self-discipline. But, you know, this is why I set myself the task in the first place, and it is bearing fruit. I have a cluster of poems I am pleased with. Not many, for there is an awful lot of chipping about one does before the thing is done. But still, a cluster. And more to come.
17 comments:
Just to let you know that we need Signs to remain Signs, okay?
Glad that's sorted. I must to boring stuff, Signs, but mayhap see you later.
(mwah. Wolf girl sends you her latest fan club portrait)
Hey you, come back here this instant! Psychic or what? I have just been over and seen this very portrait, must have been looking at it e'en as you put up the link. Tell Wolfie I love her.
I have to do boring stuff too. Shopping. Supermarket. Existential ennui, my dear, but one must be forever dealing with things. Damnation, etc.
oh - and sorted? sorted? What is Signs, who she? One minute Give Way, the next Mind the Gap. Har!
Ha. More pspooky psychic psynchronicity, Psigns, I have just returned from the supermarket, where I, too, did some shopping. It was mighty dull, as supermarket shopping sessions go, and also crowded with people who all seemed to be able to manouvre (sp?) their way through the aisles no problem - simultaneously always blocking me into claustrophobic corners. Occasionally I really like shopping, it makes me feel capable and grown-up. Not today. Damnation etc indeed, sweet Mind the Gapskin. Dealing with things will be the death of me (although yes yes yes, I realise it is necessary and probably also helps keep me afloat with its mundanity).
As for the freaky spooky thing of you looking at Wolfette while I was putting the link up - I now really regret not putting up the description I already had written under the picture (something like FAO Reading the Signs) - it would have blown your mind, I reckon, if the descriptive carrying your name would have appeared underneath it as you were looking at it. Oh, a good moment in time forever botched. Damnation, etc.
Siiiiigns, quick. Click on my link. Someone (an Italian - call it a hunch) has been to my site (I saw them on my lurky snoopy statties) and they have put it through a google automatic translator. We sound profoundly artsy-sexy-intelligent, in Italian, like, totally. Your name is Lettura dei segni, I have name envy (still the same old same old) - but my house is now called Futuro del mio passato and I'm really rather pleased with that. I can see us in a black-and-white Antonioni-thing, smoking furiously (sorry, but in the days of black and white it wasn't dangerous to one's health), there may be rainy streets and stuff. Or maybe a golden-light quirky Fellini setting, where absurd dreamtime magic reality things befall us all the time (as they bloody well should).
So, arrivederci, ciao bella, this has made me a whole heap merrier. Mwah, try to survive the shopping...
Ah Signs, I hope this isnt a sign that you are going to evapourate into the ether?????
:-(
Sometimes I would love to re-invent myself , which is possible, especially when starting a new job.
Anna, I am completely gobsmacked by this. They have translated everything - how is it done? Who or what sits there decoding the vernacular piffle and poffle (translate that, amici)? O brave new world.
Signs, I would reckon it is the word ver leprechauns who do the translations. It would sort of fit the picture, would it not?
(nlmeiwj - now look, me is wise, Jack)
Kahless, I don't think I will evaporate but then again, anything is possible in Blogoslavia.
I suppose one can reinvent on a small scale: change hair colour, clothes etc. I think that is one of the reasons people go shopping so much.
Anna, they have even translated the word ver thingies. Yes, we are definitely smoking in some down and dirty cafe, leaving lipstick stains on espresso coffee cups, wearing our seething beauty and intelligence in circles around our dark, dark eyes. How do you say "is that a gun in your pocket" in Italian?
"There is always a But"
I couldn't agree more, Amen to that and evermore shall be so, etc.
Is it possible that the Blogosphere is a bit of a misnomer, and that people really have been dropping off the edge of the blogosphere? Just a thought....
But xx
Well, I've realised of late that I'd not been over your way for a while (and surely I've been poorer for it). So here I am, and I find myself reading how quiet it has been over here lately.
Perhaps if I added you to my blogroll (I'm at a loss to know why I haven't) I would be here on a far more regular basis - meaning, of course, that I would surely be far richer for it.
I like that thought, But Why - and living on the Edge, as I do, this suggests new possibilities.
Dear Trousers, what I really meant was that a lot of bloggers seem to have stopped doing the blogging thing of putting up posts. But good to see you.
Understood, signs, it's just that when you have a guilt complex like I do.... ;-)
I do feel a slight sense of loss, though, I must admit, when I visit other bloggers and they haven't posted for ages. It's not the same, but makes me picture knocking on a close friend's door every so often and there's no answer.
I like that image, Trousers. Or it feels like the summer holidays in August when everyone else has gone abroad except you.
I don't know how anyone else does this blogging thing, of course, for I only know my story, but I have gone through periods of silence and have had to reinvent myself once or twice (not by choice). All I can tell you (or anyone) is that I want to be better - a better writer, a better blogger, a better reader, a better responder. I am still working on that.
All through my down periods and identity changes, I feel as if I have been true to me, whatever my name is, in finding my blogging voice. The bottom line always seems to revolve around "time." Time has a way of continually surprising us -- being so perpetually hard to come by, to attain, to control, to maintain, to possess.
I also know that I love knowing that some people, some blogs, will be there for me, like a good book, like a good friend. Your blog is such for me.
I'm thinking about that word 'better', David, and it seems to me that what you have been striving for is to be as true as you can to whoever it is you are representing in blog persona. And yes, you are one of those who changed their names. I am intrigued to hear that it was not your choice to do so.
I remember something useful I was once given when I taught night classes: I always had too much material to realistically fit into the time, and there were so many students who also wanted space for their work to be heard. The advice was to behave and feel as though there was all the time in the world - and that then the time would somehow expand to allow everything necessary to happen. It did seem to happen like that. A strange contrary: slow down and you will do more.
I am happy this blog is like a friend.
"Slow down and you will do more." I am shaking my head in agreement, Ms Sign. Thank you, Professor.
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