1st january 2007
A Batrachian's Calendar
Wum. Mubb. Dream - the spiral stair, descending through the head. Stay, still.
12th january 2007
This collection of Soviet bus stops is nothing short of amazing - and the landscapes are just as riveting as the architecture. (via Boing Boing)
15th january 2007
Excursion to the Planet Mercury
certain evenings a little before the golden
all craters and mirrors, the uncanny country
in that violently magic little place
now hot now cold
but it shales it slides
o the weather is dreadful there:
paupers beggars toughs
no nothing accumulates there
as for the catastrophe
the feather-footed winds
and their amazed expressions
- Alice Oswald
17th january 2007
Henry loses it
One day two young women - a Sunday - stopped at the door of my hut and asked for some water. I answered that I had no cold water but I would lend them a dipper. They never returned the dipper, and I had a right to suppose they came to steal. They were a disgrace to their sex and to humanity. Pariahs of the moral world. Evil spirits that thirsted not for water but threw the dipper into the lake. Such as Dante saw. What was the lake to them but liquid fire and brimstone? They will never know peace till they have returned the dipper. In all the worlds this is decreed.
- Thoreau, Journal 17th January 1852 (via The Blog of Henry David Thoreau)
19th january 2007
spitting the pips
This from geegaw:
In this morning's news, the story of an old woman "toppled by winds." I woke up feeling unexpectedly hopeless, then looked out the window to see a light fall of snow in the branches: a present from the world's whimsy. It made me feel so good that I mis-remembered Housman:
A-riding I will go
And I thought:
Now the lilacs are in bloom
All before my little room
Well, it was the rhythm that brought that one on, but the Housman is about new flowers too; then I thought of Macneice's Snow and Roses, very different rhythm but plants and snow; and then on to Nabokov's
Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glass
Hang all the furniture above the grass
from Canto One of Pale Fire, all about snow too; with a rhythm a step along from the Housman. And that was just the first ten seconds. Not that I went on much.
21st january 2007
A tree is a book waiting to happen.
- Iain Sinclair
Anno 1670, not far from Cyrencester, was an Apparition: Being demanded, whether a good Spirit, or a bad? returned no answer, but disappeared with a curious Perfume and most melodious Twang. Mr W. Lilly believes it was a Farie.
- John Aubrey