Laura pronounces pennies like "penn-ease" and I pronounce it like "penn-iz"
Laura playing Classic Words Plus(1), with chocolate fingers -- and an onion, (for her next meal)(2) -- in the corner of McDonalds -- with sudden arctic breezes -- hair escaping from under her hat -- lacquer-style scarf, faded blue SuperDry hoodie, blue/grey velvet trim
R1 V4 B4 C3 A1 T1 E1
fawn Hi-Tec boots -- beige fleece pea-green gloves, converted to fingerless -- apportioning a drib from the second tea (3) -- Monopoly draws to a close, all those duplicate Piccadillys (4) -- triple word score:
S1 C3 A1 R1 T1
1 Scrabble on the phone, basically
2 shopping items
3 i.e. we are sharing, she's pouring some into my cup
4 annual McDonalds promotion
Marion DR tomorrow. I went to Shaw Village at lunchtime & took bad pictures of the avenue of cherries, which were just coming out. Maybe they are Sargent cherry.
Listening to Anna Karenina in the car. Many years ago I began to read it, when I was mad about Dostoyevsky, Goncharov, Gogol. . . I couldn't get on with Tolstoy then. Now it is overwhelming.
Interspersed with Paul Woolford (Leeds DJ) Lab04 & Grizzly Bear Ventakimest from Kyli's CD collection
Marina View Hotel b&b 16-22 May 10 15 (1214)
smoke
for it made to me upwards
Silence surging
yes
it's a herd going by
bouncing their heavy locks
the surge of some final weight
through a starting line --
but silently, the kiss of glasses,
30, bos, musk-ox.
trucks in the snow, almost --
yes -- the momentum --
*
I recognized
Ted Hay
the amiable Ted
walking without a gaze
in the mist, a steer, him
on his horizon -- could one
play dice here?
Apr 21. Lots a dandelions suddenly mingling with lots of celandine. McDs inTrowb. Went to B&G
look at chimeneas to burn things in the garden. Marion DR this morning. Mir's got job in Stockholm. Played Jay's keyboard. Laughed and cried over videos. Bought a new hard drive. Read a short story called "Cockfosters" by Helen Simpson (in Guardian collection) -- very, er, very. Philippa's bloke the only appealing character (Don't read it to find out). Adam Richards didn't get back to me about deleting his snapshots, I couldn't move the Psilogic servers. We went to Matalan, where Laura has vouchers, but it was me who found something -- new swimming trunks (grey hibiscus pattern) & new shorts - blue orange white pale tartan interweave (check). Then to Subway for lunch. Then home to book HOL IN DUBAI :) which wasn't straight forward but it's done. And before that, we're going to St Ives. "Custard, comma, cream", a lady elucidates, looking at the menu.
I watched him, though I don't know why. I didn't know, I mean. He was a big man with startling blonde hair, like the killer in From Russia with Love, or like Boris Johnson -- he was too far away to know what he really looked like. He was toiling through an endless vast wood. Perhaps he was not toiling but moving briskly. But from this distance he appeared to be moving with agonizing slowness, like the hand of a clock or the orbit of Saturn. The good thing was that I could look away for a while but when my eyes were drawn back, as they always were, to the same spot I'd seen him last time, I didn't need to search around for long. There or thereabouts his blonde head was alive in the forest, like a pale small slug in a forest of kale, toiling at his impossible task as if nothing should ever end or come to any outcome. He moved through the trees. He was in an open part of the forest. The forest unknit itself to reveal him. But did it reveal him, really. He was so far off, this figure, that to be honest I couldn't be sure he was a man. I told myself that a person alone in the forest was most likely male. (Was it true, though?) I believe that I was already, at this early moment, beginning to identify the figure with myself. Sometimes he was what I wanted to be. Then he strolled through the glade with an erect easy stride, pleasantly aware of & enjoying the smells & sounds of the forest. But when I supposed him toiling, astray, bored, dog-tired & shivering, -- then, too, I knew him to be something real escaped from myself, something that within was always there & had a claim on my identity. I thought, at first, that he could not have come from very far off. Though I couldn't see it, I supposed he had some kind of cabin, or maybe had parked a car beside a forest track that was hidden in a fold of the slopes. Many folk walk a few steps into the woods. They go to pick berries, find mushrooms, or to get a view, or they take a dog to sniff around at the interesting things that may be found in their immediate vicinity. Or they go to muse, commune with nature, or to mourn someone or to experience the feelings of love or jealousy or anxiety in the peace & quiet of the woods. But you don't have to penetrate very far to find peace & quiet; and, of course, these casual visitors are mostly along the edge of the forest, where it encounters the river or the ribbon of farmland or the little red cottages and the dusty roads to lake shores. But the blonde man was in the very heart of the immense woodland
CARBIS BAY
A spoiled cat drinks no milk.
A bird in the hand is worth two cats.
You can take a car to water.
A spoiled cat spills the silver lining.
Don't spoil a cat with milk.
LELANT
Ever cloud has a silver cat.
Cats are just for Christmas.
HAYLES
Chaos in my wake
wake in my chaos
Thank you mighty thermos-maker
You are always there for a rest-taker
And when I stretch out my weary limbs
You give me a thermos instead of Pimms
But no, I AM grateful,
I do not find it hateful,
I just get used to all the things
my wondrous thermos-maker brings
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