This morning I was looking out on a Brighton sun-day, after a properly muscular mug of coffee and a roll-up, thinking that this may after all be the best of all possible worlds and if freedom time cometh not soon then perhaps it is already here. Catch me later in the day and there might be a different picture. The weather could have changed, the coffee will have worn off and I would be thinking sensible, depressing thoughts about the roll-ups. Seize the day and fritter it, is what I was thinking. The day never allows much of itself to be seized in any case so I need as much fun as can reasonably be packed into a couple of hours. This means breakfast in one of those cafes where the croissants and bacon are crisp and they are generous with the coffee refills followed by a walk along the sea-front with an ice cream cone. Fun usually always involves food of some kind. Well I can report that a fabulous breakfast has been had, plus freshly squeezed OJ, and look - the view from the window post noon is still sunlit and I am, dear reader, on account of breakfast top-up, still caffeinated - just. A walk along the sea-front was a step too far because, although these windows allow you to believe you're in the south of somewhere other than England in April, it is still cold out there, and windy. I am still having a good time. The great upside of chronic illness is that those windows of time when one doesn't feel wrecked are almost always good. The world is charged with the grandeur of God (Gerard Manley Hopkins). The world is charged with life - and also sometimes caffeine (Signs).
Good times used also to mean booze and hanging out with friends - my thirtieth birthday party was a champagne breakfast in my Bethnal Green flat. BG is trendy these days, but it wasn't then, you could buy a flat cheaply and - oh halcyon days - pay the mortgage on it even if you didn't have a proper job. This year I will be twice that age. I no longer do booze apart from the occasional small glass of wine. I do friends, but given certain restrictions one doesn't hang out in quite the same way, and a window of blue sky and sun, watching Brightonians cross the road to buy newspapers or milk at the corner shop, can feel as though one has been at a very pleasant social gathering. One doesn't have the voices, true, but the voices in one's head are (mostly) very good company and often illuminating. Joan of Arc might have said the same, before they burned her. Time for a herb tea, I think.
10 comments:
Your view of "Brighton" does suggest Italy, Signs. Is there something you'd like to tell us…?
It is possible, you know, that we live in the best possible world, I agree. It is also possible that we live in the only possible world (damnation! There's something about that idea that I dislike intensely, although something, too, that I rather like and find comforting; like all your mistakes and shortcomings are sort-of okayed, because it could never have been otherwise. On the other hand, it would be nice to think that in another dimension, there would be another me in another possible world, who hasn't f*cked up some stuff quite as royally as I have; a place where the bad things (even worse than my fuck-ups – hard to believe such things exist, I know, but they do) that have happened here, didn't). I had written something on the topic of possible worlds amongst my lecture notes t'other day. I thought of writing it up as a post. later, and then thought it would be really poncy stupid of me (people would think I was trying to be clever, cleverer than I am, which, really, is not a very difficult thing to achieve).
But what do I care of what "people" think? Quite a bit, actually and rather embarrassingly. But that aside, you mentioned (the best of) possible worlds and I went and searched my notes until I found the thing, cut and pasted it into a new post, translated it and erased the original Finnish…blah…and now I sound like I'm trawling for traffic. It's best I come incognito, so to ward off any raised eyebrows.
May the weather and the positive charges continue.
x
I enjoyed your Brighton Sun-day. Lucy used to live there many years ago and I used to visit often and so Brighton still has life in my mind. Here's to a charged world! And to Spring, even if the wind blows cold
This is spooky, 'tis you, and we all know - for I am actually going to the Italy in May, and somehow this has communicated itself in the photo.
I don't think there are different versions of us in other dimensions. But I believe in little green men with packets of Cadbury's Smash (instant mashed potato) who laugh at the way we still insist on peeling spuds on this funny old planet of ours.
Well if you are ever of a mind to visit Brighton again, Fire Bird, you know where to come for coffee and roll-ups :)
Clearly, in another possible world, you already are in Italy, Signs. That would explain the uncannily-Italian photo slipping in to depict "Brighton". (Make sure to be having a good time, okay? Right now, in the other possible world, and when you get there, in this one.)
I didn't believe Cadbury's Smash until I googled it.
I had never been to Italy and then went twice last year and I really loved it. Where are you going?
x
South - Puglia :)
I kind of miss Smash - and the Martians.
You have become granular in your use of days and nights; you seize then and crumble them: "fritter" them as you say ("to break into small pieces")
I try to do it, also. I think it may help me see the magic of the moment.
I like your definition, Montag! I had thought more in terms of 'squandering' :)
Very Mediterranean feel indeed! Complete contrast to January when I was last down your way (well, Falmer) and snow was on the ground.
Delighted you had such a good morning.
Thought this
http://ftwpoetsagainstatos.wordpress.com/
may be of interest to you
Gael
That's a great link, Gael - one I haven't seen before. Have shared it to Facebook - my Spoonie friends will appreciate it.
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