Monday, March 05, 2012

Escapist impulses

Unable to sleep and my head full of disproportionate middle of the night worries plus murderous visualisations of trapping and culling the black cat which had been attacking the cat flap at 1am. Lorraine sick but improving today and wanly watched daytime TV on the gold sofa. But she kept down some bland baked potatoey business I cooked and seemed a lot better in the evening. I was productive and did some good work on the new Pollard & Kenny project, also finalised my pdf portfolio and identifying targets to send CD to, to the accompaniment of drills and engines snarling in the background as they repair the viaduct.

Generally I am lacking in buoyancy and confidence, feelings it would profit me to snap out of.

In the evening listened to various pieces of classical music hoping for moments of transportation. These days I feel I am better able to spot ropey or wonderful moments in a recording. I used to hear Classical music as something uniformly above me. Cem reminded me the other day that there is no such thing as a definitive performance. This is more noticeable in classical music where the person who wrote the music usually has nothing to do with its subsequent performances and recordings (especially true of they are, um, dead).

Was looking at a copy of Beer and Trembling the novel-length manuscript I wrote in the 90s. Quite curious to dip back into a world where few people had mobile phones for example. There are things about it that are glaringly bad, but there were some bits that seem pretty good too. If there was world enough and time I would revisit it.

1 comment:

a said...

Let Heath Robinson be your guide in the Black Cat battle. Buckets of water and some frayed rope will soon solve the problem…