Friday, September 28, 2001

Two poems: one I was sent and keep, one I offer in exchange.

Roneau - Leigh Hunt

Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.

Wide Night - Carol Ann Duffy

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this

is what it is like or what it is like in words.

It's a very wet day, it's also very dark. I've just returned from splashing about (unintentionally) in dark puddles. My shoes have gone beyond rebellion and are now into severe self-pity. What have they done, they moan, to deserve such punishment? They are comfortable, they haven't given me blisters, what more can they do?

The reward of all this is that a cooked breakfast is - will be - on offer. Of course, I could retort to my shoes that getting up in the middle of the night to make breakfast for people who will, probably, insist on having it in bed, is equal cruel and unusual punishment for me. My feeling is that, in a household, everyone should contribute according to their means. Funnily enough, that does not entail one person doing all the housework with two people making all the mess.

I also have to decide what project to study for University. I can go for (relatively) easy and congenial but moderately irrelevant or (extremely useful) difficult and useful. Or I can insist on doing something completely different.

Thursday, September 27, 2001

Interesting: that is the word for the weekend. Good or pleasant or absolutelybloodyfantastic could have been appropriate words until Sunday afternoon which consisted of a family get together followed by watching the Kubrick/Spielberg film, "AI" Of which, the less said, the better, unless you like Kubrick brilliance and Spielberg sentimentality.

Still, seeing as it’s only five weeks’ away on Wednesday, Samhainn is taking a slightly higher profile. The first meeting took place in a quiet lounge, with masks perched on every available surface and - get this - a real fire. There were chocolate biscuits, too, but a peat fire is something far more valuable than any sort of chocolate. It was one of those good news, bad news sorts of night. Good news: I had plenty of money on me, for once. Bad news: someone had finally remembered to bring the four volumes of “The Silver Bough” and this had to be paid for. Bad news: the meeting lasted for 2.5 hours. Good news: I found the elusive Italian bakery and got a spinach calzone and a vanilla carcotti. Bad news: it’s getting cold at night. Good news: I have a genuine nurse’s cloak (scarlet lining and all) and am not afraid to use it.

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