It's been a while. And a while longer yet too as the internet's down and I'm typing in Text Edit. Somehow it needs to be in Courier to tap into the correct brain place. It doesn't feel right not typing in the blog box. I'll try, not strive...
Anyway. Talking about the writing a lot more than writing the writing for almost three weeks now, got to that stage again where you feel like you're running into your own cliche. It becomes circular, like when I was recording the diaries and then I was writing up to the day I was recording, aware of my own narrator. It dies at this point. I must read Barthes. I have been toying with the idea of Posthumous Posts Un, Dos and Tres, one for each country. And then toying with the idea that this would be contrived in itself, 'making a blog post', not true to the honesty I do. Question mark. The context I'm in here is plain and quotidian; a train trip for one, is most certainly not.
I didn't miss the blogging this time, I barely wrote much. Perhaps it was the ills but I felt quiet, rested and observant. Un-angry, though not un-moved. Just really pensive and melty and spongy and receptive. Un-knotted. Light. New. Available. Cool. Fresh. Senses. New again. I had a couple of what I might have thought were epiphanies, the sort you have when drunk, take away from the norm and things go wild. Then, in 'normality', whatever image that is, the ideas tarnish fast, and all of a sudden they're inside some sort of leather-bound prayer cushion, and I'm sitting on it, and, well it's just not breathing anymore is it. I'm actually sitting on it on purpose.
So what I've been trying (not striving) to do, is to let the future breathe. Make a space for it, like that triangle between belly button and hip bones, air happening, growth, calm, multiplying, onward! That holiday momentum, of the normal being only an image of now, based in nothing, susceptible to beautiful change. Today was a huge success. As was Saturday. As was Sunday. And yesterday. Art and thinking and dancing and baking and napping and dancing and meeting and meandering and making new meanings. The light is helping considerably, the day no longer stops at 5pm, things can come in two stages. I got up at half five, worked, collected my Nina Tolstrup lamp, saw and thought art, missed a train and didn't care because it was so pleasant, cooked an amazing frugal pasta, had some thoughts on hold. This could not have happened in the depths of winter.
I am heading into a new life! The school of life. I'm not quite sure that I'm ready, how I'm to behave. Things haven't changed (for good) for almost a year, I've been plodding with no purpose and no strength to see further than a few weeks. I'm now set till July. I feel itchy, but not worried. The world feels big and whole and available again. A show to think about. I'm growing my brain right now, I think this is what 2010 is about for me, simply allowing myself a freedom. Even now, almost a year on, I am noticing daily how open I am to my thoughts, when before I was so knotted I couldn't allow hardly anything to affect me. As for now, I feel pleasantly new, and am not letting this feeling go easily.
POSTED BY ZOE LANGDELL AT 20:56 TUESDAY 6 APRIL