Sunday, 30 May 2010
I don't seem to be able to write at all right now. The interesting thing ( or perhaps it is troubling) is that I don't seem to care either. Perhaps I am story harvesting. Like a squirrel in autumn getting her nuts for the winter. Or perhaps I'm just tired and wordless. Maybe I have spent my yearly vocabulary trying to explain the present perfect to the perpelxed and unwilling or perhaps my heart just isn't in it. Either way at least my dream life is rocking on. The other night I dreamt a giant unicorn had died in my parent's backyard. It was enormous. The size of a dinosaur. It looked beautiful lying in the grass. Like a sculpture made from snow, glistening in the sun. It wasn't sad either. The whole back yard was filled with small folk ( hobbitty-looking I suppose) who seemed to have built this amazing medieval village behind the unicorn.
Friday, 28 May 2010
So here's a pleasingly tinny version of it for your listening pleasure
Honestly I have no idea why this song makes me so joyous. Or why it makes me walk like a happy German with bent elbows swinging by my sides, hair in plaits and high frolicking knees. I think it's the key change in the middle that gets me every time.
Sunday, 16 May 2010
At first I hadn't planned to do anything special to mark the day - but then at the beginning of the week I thought about going to Monaco/ Italy - mid-week I had a change of heart and decided I would prefer to hide in my bed - then on Thursday I decided I needed to get out of Basel and really what better place than the home of fast cars (for quick getaways) and pricey cocktails (perche non!)
In the end I think it was a good idea. Not only did I away from myself for a while ( so to speak) but I got to make friends with a rarver nice Ferrarri. In fact became lovers very soon after!
And I ate Pizza like a true Italian.
( lots of arm gestures and vino!)
It was a nice birthday despite how topsy-turvy I have been feeling lately and for this I am very grateful.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
Sunday, 2 May 2010
Anyhoo, I decided to do some work on a piece I finished late last year. By finished I mean it has a start, a middle and an end but even back then I knew it wasn’t the story I was meant to be telling. So I have dug it out again to work on and while the words are not easy for me at least some are coming. In fact so pleased am I that I managed to concentrate long enough to write for an hour, I am going to attach the first few paragraphs ( largely for my mother – and yes I am eating, my underpants are clean too! ) just because I can :-)
The Weaverman of Askhan Bazaar
By Joanna Galbraith
In Askhan’s main bazaar they say you can buy almost anything. Tea hand-picked by monkeys. Goblets made from goshenite. Bonsai kits for growing children. Porcelain teeth. Endangered bees. You can also find a fortuneteller who sees the future in cats’ paws and a man who makes giant cymbals out of discarded saucepan lids.
The bazaar is on a hilltop to the south of the snow-capped
‘Look I have no kneecap.’
‘And I no skin across my palms.’
‘Come my fellows there is no competition, I am missing both my heels.’
Fortunately all suffering is soon forgotten for one inhale of the bazaar’s breath is like an opiate dream. Pain becomes a welcomed friend; water tastes of wine. You can swallow the quavers of unfinished songs and sing them one more time.
P.s. For those who are wondering, Shazza's’s first efforts in the kitchen on Friday were excellent. (Even the designated canary appears to to have lived! ) Unfortunately however, Shazza is proving to be quite the saucy minx by refusing to do any sort of cleaning up. Apparently it does not come with in the ambit of Kitchen Sorceress, so it is up to me to remove the tomato stains from the ceiling etc