Category: General
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Sad Songs of the Brain
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Three of them. I haven’t yet found a way of actually displaying them as a post here, though it’s easily done on Facebook. But this link takes you to a pdf version : Sad Songs of the Brain Why the paltry brain, the paltry individual ? Why “in here” where the brain is ? Why not…
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Bones
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1. I remember how I sat, even. Bunched. There was nothing to hold on to except my own flesh and the strong bones inside. I’d never been conscious of my bones before (except when I broke them). Everything in my world around was either in shreds or seeking to shred me. And he said, since…
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A Drawing of Conclusions
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It is surely still natural to respect a conclusion that is reached through cogent argument. Each stage of the argument leads to the next stage, like a series of links in a chain. The conclusion is given its authority, its right to be heard and accepted, by the strength of the links that have led…
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If the People is Sovereign, Lying to the People is High Treason
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As 2016 comes to an end, I want to present an argument which I believe follows from the year’s events. Different elements of the argument have already been touched on here in recent posts. I must begin with language and those first words of St John’s Gospel. In the beginning was [and was always] the…
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Naming the Beast of the Year
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This beast has our country’s contours written all over it. It has leapt from out of the ruins of the city, those hollow squares, and from the great labrynth below ground where the thread got tangled, and from the wi-fi and the wires through which we do not speak but intone like digital toys…
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Presidential Election Night November 2016
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All night, the great tree raged outside our windows. It wanted to give way to the wind, but could not. It wanted to fly over the hill on the wind’s crest lashing our house as it passed, smashing the roof, bursting each window. What agony to be pinned like this, bound by the feet, earth-bound…
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Dorset in View
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From above, this region is a quilt of all colours, covering a vast and restless sleeper ; each week the colours have shifted, wrapped in season. No pause here. No holding still. The tractor driver spends all the daylight hours and more, lonely in his cab, changing a field’s colour inch by inch, precisely row…