Used to be a tart, saw myself as Art
Nov. 25th, 2020 01:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ashlymeWaiting for the self-service checkouts at Morrisons got a bit existentialist this morning. Two tills broken, only one taking cash - and I had a tenner and had to nip back out the queue to get the right thing under the 3 for 2 offer. Watching the payers-by-card go past, hearing a till chirp Do you wish to contnue? I thought, Well since you ask till, nope.
Strange clouds in the East just before yesterday's sunset: rosy-brass, vertically rippled, close to the horizon. They looked like a brushstroked word. Up at the top of the lane there's a honeysuckle still clinging to life long after the berries of the rest have withered: two flowers open to the winter damp. A brace of pied wagtails perking about in a drive - I've not seen them in a while.
Started work on an essay about Harrison's Course of the Heart for the journal Wormwood. I should really have done this back in the autumn. It's an old friend, so I can't really see the essay being too hard to write. After that, reading for pure pleasure. In the pile, Dog and Duck (various essays by Machen on the amiable and arcane), the new Nina Allan collection, a couple of books on the history of British postage stamps; I've started collecting stamps again after many years' gap, a lot of them kindly donated by JH andcybermule . <3 I really need an album or two to put them in.
Oh, and I need to pluck a Jamesian ghost story out of nowhere. I wouldn't get slavishly close to the originals, but it's not a huge leap from MRJ's donnish antiquarians to a modern person of low/no means with an interest in local history. It's when the local history becomes interested in you that the trouble begins.
Strange clouds in the East just before yesterday's sunset: rosy-brass, vertically rippled, close to the horizon. They looked like a brushstroked word. Up at the top of the lane there's a honeysuckle still clinging to life long after the berries of the rest have withered: two flowers open to the winter damp. A brace of pied wagtails perking about in a drive - I've not seen them in a while.
Started work on an essay about Harrison's Course of the Heart for the journal Wormwood. I should really have done this back in the autumn. It's an old friend, so I can't really see the essay being too hard to write. After that, reading for pure pleasure. In the pile, Dog and Duck (various essays by Machen on the amiable and arcane), the new Nina Allan collection, a couple of books on the history of British postage stamps; I've started collecting stamps again after many years' gap, a lot of them kindly donated by JH and
cybermule . <3 I really need an album or two to put them in.Oh, and I need to pluck a Jamesian ghost story out of nowhere. I wouldn't get slavishly close to the originals, but it's not a huge leap from MRJ's donnish antiquarians to a modern person of low/no means with an interest in local history. It's when the local history becomes interested in you that the trouble begins.