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Monthly Archives: October 2011


of course i don’t want to be tied down by tote but things i am bringing home include an almond from cañar and a leaf which fell on my head in London Fields this morning. ‘bye!


while waiting to leave I saw Oslo 31st August with my favourite Norwegian at the cinema, about details and lives, death, conversations and places, and with a devastatingly gorgeous sequence of the evening: doors open and muffled darkness gives sudden way to cigarettes and chatter, cold outside to sweaty, moving from room to room, inside, outside, [...]


filling the last melan-phoric days by wandering slowly. fuck the portrait gallery (really is just lots of portraits), i’d rather go to the same places over and over again, one last time. The Lea, Regent’s Canal, Victoria Park, its pubs, its pearls, models and whippets in London Fields, the window seat at Maus, horizontal orange [...]

comment is free

news as online forum for those with free time. although i know it is the same clever opinions trotting, the same trolls winding, the same luminaries burning, i never ever tire of it.

epping forest

went here a few months ago at a similar earth tilt, same clear blue sky, same warm sunshine, but there were buds and blossoms then, and now there are falling leaves. i do not like spring, ‘so full of promise’. so full of broken promises. autumn never lies about the future. serenity? just deliberate hebetude, [...]

he’s so contagious, he turns my pages

the enduring figure of almost four years of the Truman’s Brewery to LoFi cultural trail, white cat’s fur is all fluffed up with white cloud and other meteorological metaphors. He has been here the whole time, each sunday flower market seems to arrive quicker than the last and take over his street. so during this [...]


Eight years ago the National Gallery of Victoria stayed open till midnight. either they didn’t advertise it or midnight on a saturday is too late for art. this is the way i vividly remember it: huge dark spaces filled with floating mysteries, black curtains, me and my favourites, the three of us wandering around almost [...]

white cloud

wind to push bicycles over. no lights on in the houseboats. but the cloud thick and white enough for the city to light up its inner country-side. further north the swans were out, white on silver, gliding round with necks bent into the water. the finite time remaining here, apocalyptically and residentially speaking, brings affection.

there is very little difference

between seeing a work in reproduction and looking at the real thing. – Magritte and he proves it by reproducing his own work. or does that make it original, too. there is usual disappointment in seeing a painting, the true painting, the original, if it is already familiar in its reproduced form, might as well [...]


girl for winter: bed and tea girl for spring: she wants to go canoe-ing girl for summer: drunk girl for autumn: walks and galleries. everyone wants a girl for autumn, best-dressed season. coats before they become desperate. this is abney park, about to explode then fall.