wolverine is dead, long live the wolverine

Watched Logan the film. Great exit for two wonderful actors (Of course they both die heroically in the fictional universe). Great entry for a very young actress (Who demonstrates that it is always a bad idea to upset little cute girls and teach them to kill) Great balance in the lead triangle. Maybe a little…

The perks of being on the sidelines

One of the most beautiful poems I have recently read is this: a breezy august sweater she wore bearing me around my shoulders (Kate Kaulakalna) The picture is perfect. The time stands still, projecting a feeling of emptiness, simultaneously reflecting the temperature gradient of late summer and a filial sensation of continuity and memory. The…

sometimes post

dear diary,  i know you are not my real diary, because i have no diary, only a scrapbook, and nobody addresses a scrapbook with ‘dear scrapbook’. well, i am rambling. and using my poetic licence to write imaginary things as i imagine them. so, dear diary… sometimes life tastes of dry leaves and burnt cabbage.…

the ebb and flow

now i understand how the witches and familiars work. i think i do.not how the witches work, not how familiars work, but the and bit. my cat is back. freshly carried in from the yard, somewhat timid, scarred, thin as a rake (with a lot of fur on), and white as the melting snow (which is rather..grey).…

thanks, wolfie

this is cool. i might start the next term with this. (and yes, i use no capital for ‘i’ – so did e.ecummings, and it is poetic licence)

possessive modality

my memories. of her last days. my body remembers uncontrollably. these are my possessions, my riches, my hoard: my pain and my love for her. i wish i had found the courage to tell her, to verbalise my love and care, to make them known with words also. the unsaid festers and burns, and can be disposed…

Fifteen. Believing

isn’t it strange, how teachers believe in their students? they [teachers] believe in their [student] creativity. their talent. their strength and ambition to achieve something. they [teachers] seem to see in the realm beyond the fear, anxiety, plain stupidity and lack of graces, social or otherwise. see right through the now and here into some…

healing

well, i had another epic tumble down a flight of stairs last sunday. now i look like an ill-drawn map, all blackish, plum-colour, bruises-starting-to heal. and i have been feeling so sleepy.  and misanthropic. the best healing for me is this: no human people around, regardless of their attitude. loads of sleep. loads of hot,…

the ents

my father watched the second part of the lord of the rings, way back when it came out on the dvd. the only thing he thought real enough was the ents. ‘because this is how the forest should be, i’ve seen that,’ he said. and now, for him, the lord of the rings is about…

the empty graves

“but i want to go to your mother’s grave,” she said. “you can come or not, it does not matter,” she added. “but i’d appreciate a navigator.” “i do not see what i’ve forgotten there,” i said. “but ok, i’ll go.” and so we went. the day was bright and sunny, the road characteristically abysmal,…

beware* the linux of many flavours

so, my inner voice (a very strange thing, but not to be disregarded altogether) said some time ago: ‘move to Linux’. i, rationally, said: ‘why?’ my inner voice said nothing. that’s how it is with them inner voices. drop their proverbial brick in the middle of your proverbial garden, and go, just like that. i…

it was long ago about now, and is one more story

the roads had all gone muddy, and the trees were far from budding. it was late april in the 1980s, and as it happens in our family, another funeral could not proceed with dignity. because the lorry that had the coffin just got stuck in the mud and nothing would move it. and all the…

time like amber glass fluid in motion

a pre-historic insect trapped in glass; the vague wings beat against the fresh tears of pine only to bring death deeper, twine the moth and the resin the now and the found; the chunk of what used to be sunlight and trees and birdsong so long ago that it almost echoes the first light falling,…

funeral coffee

the kitchen is ever dark, and cold, and cave-like, and sombre. starting the fire, on gas or in the cooking range. the quiet determinism of those present in the house for the morning. the smell of sadness, the unspoken collectiveness of all people waiting. the setting-up of the pots, the pouring of water, the measuring…

some more dreams of language

so, i have got the wiedźmin books by Andrzej Sapkowski. in polish. and the audiobooks (polish), too. what i have been doing for the past days for a couple of hours a day, is this – read the books while listening to the audiobooks, and look up some of the most annoying unknown words in the…

one – an event and a promise

by pure serendipity (i have really wanted to use this word in a text for some time, and here it is) i was a witness to the performance of this oratorio in the new st. gertrude’s tonight, by an excellent latvian choir, exquisite orchestra and fabulous, fabulous soloists (sergejs jēgers’ singing just blew the top…

when all else fails

pain remains. in its incapacitating, insane clarity, pain remains. and suddenly, there is no space for questions of why and what for, because there is only that which is. pain. it will pass, at some point, i know, this is only a bout, a fit, incomplete and unfinished, searing the edges of what i thought…

done and done

so, as of today, i have changed my habitat. i will live in the congregation house of my church. all the things have been moved. the place looks a little crowded by the white sacks containing books, but i will sort that out in time, same as my personal belongings and materials for the crafts.…

unresolved

i miss her. it’s been a year and a half roughly – and i still miss her. the little things, the casual talk on the phone, the cabbage recipe, the enjoying of bananas or fish soup. nothing great or important, just the little, everyday, unimportant things. the beautiful voice. the work-worn hands. the ‘life must go on’…

misplaced

moving from one place to another tires me, even if it is not physically exhausting. probably because my soul is so slow, it takes ages to get anywhere, whilst my body can be easily moved my mechanisms. i feel my soul coming back, returning to me. probably tonight. here’s to you, my soul, who quicken…

the haunting

and so i enter the dream-within-dream. and i am in some kind of himalayan foothill country. with people whose language is something like sanscrit (which i do not speak in life, but have heard in dreams). and there is some discussion about going to some place in the mountains where some benevolent entities, teachers, beings of light…

how hairbrushes are totally useless in the times of storm

when rain comes with the storm, does it matter how carefully one has made their hair. the wind has the capacity for streaming chaotic activity all over the place, invisibly, suddenly, all momentum commences, only to crash a moment later. and only the trees stand between the heaven and earth, and worry not, of how,…