Monday, 29 April 2013

Death's other kingdom

Silence, heavy, hanging. Damp as a foggy wash day, hung the heavy silence, shrieking with the unspoken as they carefully moved around each other’s brittleness.  Carefully, carefully not touching the edges; the intense tango of a dreary Sunday afternoon.  Despite the potential of glassy acreage letting in the world, nothing less than a sonorous doorbell would break the spell.  This self-inflicted muteness could only be penetrated by a witness.  But who would brave the tension long if they came a-calling?  And if some guileless, breezy caller did come, would the hastily proffered offer of thick coffee - something stronger perhaps, an aperitif - afford sufficient respite from the piercing unspoken knowledge that too many days like this will break them?  Too many years left to shift and slide around.  Too many weeks - too many Sundays and too long - feeling that silent chill creeping into veins and bones, killing them softly as softly as all the atrophies of age by a lingering, suffocating, damp, heavy, silence.

Sunday, 28 April 2013

Friday, 26 April 2013

Some things are good

When a beautiful girl goes to work in India what happens at home?

I'll tell you, her mother's thoughts go with her; calmly smoothing anxiety away so the space can be filled with pride and, occasionally, the last remembered view the day she left in her car.  Waking every morning, wondering a parent's care.

Until, news flits through space and time - all reassurance.  News that food and drink is brought to her desk by servants, on the hour, every hour; that she has a car and driver who takes and waits; that she feasted on the roof terrace of a six star hotel restaurant under a starry sky accompanied by Indian music and fabulous food;  that every evening she dines on a three course meal. That the work is progressing well. And that she loves the beautiful crazy place she's in. Of course she does, she knows how to look.

And then the photographs start to arrive.  Clever girl to tell her mamma about the food, eh?

Monday, 15 April 2013

Start spreading the news

Well not leaving today but have a full six months to be excited about the Upper West Side, Jazz at the Lincoln Centre, Columbus Day Parade, Prohibition, MoMA, the Guggenheim, Beacon Theatre, Central Park.  Am I excited?  Just a bit.

Cocktails, live music, neon, indigestion, sore feet, yellow cabs, exaggerated greetings, world renowned gourmet temples (whatever they are), cheese from every corner of the world (I believe it) and, yes, even Little Italy.  She put in her finger and pulled out a plum and said 'what a good girl am I.'

Oh and Chihuly at the Botanical Gardens...

Monday, 8 April 2013

There is a season

 If I could send a missive to the sad and lonely, I would say, 'please don't be sadder than me.'

 If I could


a missive

Detail from Persian Ceiling 2008 - Dale Chihuly

that's what I would say

Tuesday, 2 April 2013


So, pondering on the word: should.  Should implies a moral imperative.  Should one blog during work time?  Should one miss one's friends?  Should one feel sad for and bereft of the happy times? Should one tell another how to feel?

Now, take is.  Is, is a much better word. One is blogging during work time. One is missing one's friends.  One is feeling sad for and bereft of the happy times. One is not being told how to feel, surely?

Scat that

Monday, 1 April 2013


They came, they ate, they talked, they laughed, they rested, they went. It was good.