Wednesday, April 27, 2011

late bluebells

A season of intemperate brain squall, of which all one can say is that it will pass, like weather. The late bluebells are nice.

The bluebell remark is really to indicate a disinclination to communicate anything of substance right now. I could speculate on the reasons for this, but then I would be communicating something of substance. Heigh ho. My inner (is there an outer?) introvert seems to be in the ascendant, pressing me, perhaps, to husband my resources for various tasks I have laid on myself. I have made this sound a little heavy, but they are tasks that I wish to engage with wholeheartedly and with as much strength as I can bring to them.

When a theatre is between one production and the next, I think it is described as being "dark", and this is one of those times in the Theatre of Signs.

Be seeing you sooner or later.


Zhoen said...

Lurking, then.

trying to be a candle here said...

In a theatre they always leave a single little light on onstage - always. The theatre never goes dark-dark.

Hope you've a little light left on, too, Schwesterlein.

mwah x

Reading the Signs said...

Zhoen, if by Lurking you mean visiting other blogs - well, I hope so.

In response to you, Candle, and the lovely words of K G, I put a little qualifier into the post so as not to make it sound as though the tasks lie heavily on me. I do love to work, Schwes - and this (thank you, mwah!) is the light I can leave on the stage. Picture it burning bright for me please.

Fire Bird said...

for some reason i think of how mushrooms grow in the dark...

Montag said...

On your return... on opening night... it will be SRO, as usual.

Mim said...

Miss you, Signs-Between-the-Acts.

Gael said...

Just popped in to find you've popped out.

Trying to find a way to say this without being patronising, but wanted to tell you about a tiny little personal epiphany. I've had a nasty "viral" thing lately that left me pretty wiped out. It had a nasty disfugiring element, and the worst fatigue I've ever felt (how can it be possible to not be able to move from paragraph to paragraph, to effectively not be able to read or write? Mind blowing.) Only reason for boring you with this is that one of the first things it made me think about was you. I always thought I understood before, and made all the right noises, but this was only with me for a matter of days. I now know I can't possibly imagine what it's like to live with the shadow of that over you all the time. But now I have an inkling, and I'll try to be much more understanding in the future, and appreciate all the more when you choose to spend your time 'here'.
Be good to yourself, and... thank you

Reading the Signs said...

Hello Gael - well it's kind of you to share this. An inkling can give a certain imaginative empathy, and that's a good thing for PWME who are, in the main, misunderstood - not surprising as it's virtually impossible for anyone to know what it is like if they haven't had it or lived with someone who has.

A number of people, post virus, say that they now have an insight into what having M.E. must feel like, but really all they have is an inkling, fatigue being only one aspect of it.

Glad to hear you are better now.

I thought of emailing a reply but must have lost your address in my period of hard disc 'blues'.

Gael said...

I did use the word 'inkling' advisedly. One of my student's has it, so spending the year working with him has been important, too.