The moving house.
the Muse wrote and the glass was shattered,
and I’m still decoding the meaning. The LP sleeve is bent at the corners and
the tapes don’t play any more. Your first PC, you won’t know what I mean,
has mildew and that old ZX spectrum doesn’t do wire-frame anymore.
The wine glass cracked.
Last time I tried to get through, you lost contact in mid-September, I just
found that message to you. It reads and (I) quote “ “.
Day twenty. 20th September 2008
*
Quenched.
I thought you might like to know!
"The Large Hadron Collider has gone wrong again..."Everytime she
comes she calls another's name" ...Nothing, but nothing changes.
..."that’s the spirit of the age." to quote Hawkwind.
Narvik.
Day ten. 10th September 2008 (Remembered)
*
I thought you might like to know!
"They have switched it on, 21.00hrs NZ time, but nothing will be collided today. Instead they will just start to accelerate and channel, focus and direct, calibrate and wait."
Today:
[You] and [I] finished the room, remapped -69202 and then we took a particle of dust, that [you] left behind and mixed it with ourselves.
"Not much happened today."
but then...
20th November 2009 [You] wrote.
The Large Hadron Collider, "is it working again?"
Tonight I suggest that [you] remember it, and dance. SHE wasn’t mine anymore... Don’t Kiss Him...don’t!...
If you do, i’ll just have to, have to, take you home again and that will be the end of it.
..................... Long-time-coming-moment, but hold back that tear for when it’s really needed, 5 years from here, for him and me.
So when you go out for the night, don’t go, don’t go, dressed as a horse, turn a blind eye. (Bennett’s not really going to take her home).
Remember ‘Ms Smythe’? She wriggled and wrythed and left you in the morning in a state of indeterminate unease, so much so, that when you met again you forgot to tell her to stay. “Don’t leave.” “Return!” slider “Collider.” collide her.
Narvik, ‘The seventh day evangelist’. Ha!
You said "the only cure for insomnia
is not to sleep".
Thank you for the information, even if it takes me thirty two years to realise it. I'm sure it will come as a great relief.
As for me you already know that my favorite hour is 4.44 or 3.33, this morning it was 5.41.
Today I saw teenagers pouring petrol down the drain at the back of Speedwell House. They were lighting the fumes at a drain further down the road. The whole surface of the road shook with the ignition... Fascists, they ran away...
"And... what about next year?"
"I thought you might like to know!"
"When you leave Speedwell House don't return, keep to your new path and take every opportunity, and don't buy “Hard Rain".
Narvik
I took bus 55 to the junction of Route de Meyrin and the "Great Shed". You should go there whilst it's still farm land.
Remember those days? Our gyroscope tracking days, with the home-grown devices, when we were kids, tracing planes coming in and out of de Havilland. They are still good for divining and ...a whisper in your ear...
"You will use them next year and many times again."
The countdown has begun in a circle beneath the ground... a field bisected by two countries. The calculations are complete and signed-off, all risks assessed and accepted. The button must now be pressed,
...and each pixel moment of their collision
"So, traveller we will be collided."
THE STAR start T
"Didn't you hear me?"
My words fell on your deafness like smoke on a widow. Luckily for us both then, that someone had been here before and they left their trail of resistant finger-tipped-words on the window.
"...seriously I have a complaint to make."
I am currently not sleeping...staying awake, listening to tapes and working late. Last night I spent all evening in the upstairs bar of The Cambridge, on Cambridge Circus. The 38 bus was the only way to get back as the trains had stopped running out of Charring Cross.
Tomorrow I'm moving out of Speedwell House and into a bed-sit in an old villa in Peckham Rye. There is a garden and the upstairs room, which I'm moving in to, has a doorstop cast from David's lips. The bed has a Victorian iron-bedstead...you can feel its history. There are no ghosts, but you we can feel the deaths and births that came before us. Virginia Woolf née Stephen, sleeps down stairs and has a private door to the bathroom. In my sketch book you wrote...
The only cure for insomnia
is not to sleep.
3.32 am
September the first 1976, sitting, glancing to the left I caught a glimpse of you further away than before. "Look back" I said, "Look back and remember me. I can see you."
You had already sighted me that week for the first time, younger though and on a train. You passed us by at New Cross Gate, heading south. It was your wave that caught our eye. Your smokey voice condensed against the window...a word...and then you... and you had faded from view. We simply couldn't hold your image any longer.
So for you, my first word in return,
"Surd"
I carry that in my head and wait for the rest of the explanation to follow. Today I hold that thought in mind and can already hear the answer arriving yesterday, some point off, half-heard, misunderstood a mondergreen still forming along with other songs distorted.
"Lady Madonna, children at her feed" etc....
We took 'the' photograph today and posted the negative to myself next week in its paper bag, which will be lost and damaged only for me to find much later in our room, halfway between tomorrow and yesterday. You and I will place it in a box, still-unprinted, unique and as frail as -69 202 and Tycho Brahe's globe.
What was that you said?
"...Like me, you stood at the top of the slope in Innsbruke."
...and my answer is
"That like Franz, you clamour down-hill to meet me."
...and or, "for all my life I've been waiting for this moment to arrive."
I thought you might like to know!
There has been a problem. This new blog site should clear up any misunderstandings.
"Take a different train tonight, give that party a miss and whatever you do, don't go dressed as a horse."
Narvik
We passed each other yesterday and I thought I saw him also, in the window, on the eighth floor of Hercules Tower, although I'm sure he missed us both, as he was looking the other way. I was heading for Blackheath, where you will live one day.
I went to photograph our room and to walk the trace-lines between the village and the observatory. We crossed paths twice, once inside the gates and then beside the planetarium, where you stood astride the Prime Meridian and I sat beneath Woolf's statue,
We see you.
The Atlas Delector Detector helped you glance us there. I wouldn't would have liked to have to have tried to come back sooner, even if you had or hadn’t imagined me before. Ideas like that need time for response and time to grow.
...Like me, you stood stand at the top of that same slope in Innsbruke.
"Didn't you hear me?"
