For some reason this isn’t as easy as it was previously. What to say, what will you find here of interest? Well, the weather is unpredictable and I have fallen badly out of habit with regards to writing. I have not written much recently and I cannot for a second guess whether it will be raining or glorious when I wake up. Writing is too difficult for me and the summer is over, surely.
Reading Pynchon, slowly at bedtimes, so that the drip-drip of his narrative, these absurd conversations and repressed desires, edge into my dreams. Writing proposals left, right and centre and thinking about future projects. Been quiet on the live performance front, Berlin’s stages have gladly abandoned me for a while and it is just as well. Three album releases this month, of sorts anyway. All three collaborations, different sounds but hopefully there is a thread of my input running somewhere between them. Who can spot which one I gave most, and least, to?
Time has been taken up mainly with looking after guests. That certain rediscovery of a city has been happening over the last week. Sharing firstly with my mother and my brother, taking in the elevated rail tours and the zoo (wanted to write much about visiting a zoo, but too little time) and all those sights. Ben is here now, a very different proposition as we set out with hope, into the streets beneath dramatic skies in search for button shops, chintz and art periodicals.
So you have it all now. Writing has given up on me – but not I on it. And perhaps, perhaps, we have found a house. Descriptors here soon but I think Jarman would be proud and I sense many a wintery photograph and statements of poetic stillness.