Sticking my head in the door to say hello here. Hello to who? You, obviously, but to me too. People say that Tweeting is something akin to talking to oneself, and I have often thought this about blogging too. But in talking to oneself is there not the sense of some listening presence - an intimate other - or what some creative writing practitioners would call your 'ideal reader'?
Here at House of Signs we are quite happy with the less-than-ideal, or if not happy then realistic. At least I did not make any stupid resolutions that would now have been broken. But strength is once again at a low ebb. I am looking out of the window as I write this, at my neighbour with her young sons, digging in the garden, she in a green puffer jacket, the oldest boy in red and the toddler in blue. Grandma is there too in a mustard puffer. All are digging. I want to be digging too, not literally perhaps, but working my own patch of land, making grow the things I want to cultivate. A number of things come against this. Even sticking my head around the door like this is not without its difficulties. For one thing, I have to be sitting upright. No, seriously.
It has been one of those mornings when everything that is waiting to be written, sung or planted, the etheric spirits of them all, gathered around my bed singing their various possibilities. We are ready, they said, to incarnate. These voices. They have never listened to reason. They know nothing about Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. By this afternoon there won't be a trace of them. They stay only for the possibilities.
But this piece, all about someone doing something against all the odds, has made me feel very happy.
**
7 comments:
Hei my brave and beautiful Schwesterlein. It's nice to see your hello, and you of course, although saddened to hear you're not doing so hotly at the moment.
Had you thought of a dictaphone of some description? That way you could talk with the voices and save what they have to say, whilst lying down. I know, I know, it's not the same. But writing lying down is not easy and besides, writing is tiring.
Sending you a hug and some mwahs
x
Ah the brave and beautiful is surely in the eye of the beholder. But I will borrow some of it today - mwah! :) - (btw did you know that the emoticon has suddenly become very cool - 'twas in the Grauniad yesterday so must be true - apparently makes us nicer people or something, if we use them. Not that we need that, but still)
I have thought of a dictaphone, yes. But I don't think I could get a grip on the words from a lying down position. It might make for a semi-interesting (to me in another incarnation or to some meandering Martian) free flow of consciousness kind of thing. And also: I think I would feel strangely muted by self-consciousness.
Yes, I used to absolutely abhor the emoticon, and refused to use them in writing other than with company who shared the abhorrence and with whom we could do so with the irony so overused by artisticos. Yes indeedly. But as it happens, I've noted that these days I'm guilty of emoticoning without a hint of artistry or anything. Oh dear, how the mighty have fallen.
Word verification, dear heart, is reaping. We shall not interpret this as a Biblical "thou art reaping what thou hast sown", rather as an indication that things are coming to fruition and it shall be harvest time with plenty merriment. And creative outbursts.
x
(Okay, it's asking me to do word ver again. This time, it's bersiarc. An artistico-ironic way of spelling "berserk".)
(umm hmmmm. Slight boo-boo above there, could you permanently remove? Please.)
'Tis done. Makes one feel strangely powerful, does it not, to press the 'delete forever' button. A god-moment, as 'twere.
Have you noticed? 'Twas, 'Tis and 'Twere - all in one day.
We will reap all this. Yes. :)
May the spirits ever sing the possibilities.
That's a truly amazing story on so many levels.
Thank you, F B, I wish them to keep singing, but they do press for a response. I like your recent zen-posts.
I'm glad you liked the story: so funny, and so touching/uplifting, I thought.
Good to have you back.
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