under another sun

A splendid morning. My two poetry collections suddenly clicking into place. Felt a rare feeling of elation, clarity and faith in myself. Lorraine busy outside in the sun. I popped out a bit to be with her. She was jet washing the greenhouse, and having lots of fun doing so. In the afternoon Lorraine went off to see Rosie and I caught the train to see Anton. We met in the Evening Star in Brighton, and drank glassblower's lager, and played several games of bones and caught up a bit. First drink that Anton had (apart from one day at Stav's funeral) this year. I was not manhandled off the premises, which was nice and generally enjoyed being there. They were playing music over the PA. I don't remember this before. It was nice music, but all old stuff. Where are the young 'uns listening to unlistenable new fangled music? It's as if pub culture has always been targeted to people of my sort of age, and is aging with us. Back up the hill and Anton cooked his delicious pizzas...

Hours of getting nowhere fast with my manuscript. But can't find a way to fit any of the dozens of poems I have fit together in a way that works.  Maddening. Went for a long walk, but no better when I got back.  Anton says he has joined a gym as his bathroom is being redone and he needs to have a shower. Also a photo below from the Tobster in Mexico City, who is lurking in museums.   Cooked fish curry tonight. Watching a netflix drama Inventing Anna which I am quite enjoying. It's a true story based on a con woman who duped the rich and wealthy of New York.  Anna Sorokin, who calls herself Anna Delvey, was imprisoned for a few years, but is now out and making a name for herself.  

A poor night's sleep, lying awake feeling worried about several things at once. Listening to the news this morning did not help: warring Russians, out of control global warming. The idiocy and malevolence of humanity is astonishing.    Read this from Carole Cadwalladr  saying that this invasion was a continuation of the First Great Information War the Kremlin has been waging over facebook etc for the last eight years. You only have to look at the proven Russian interference in Brexit and the election of Trump and so on to see that. They have successfully sown bitter division among their opponents, and contributed to the almost complete erosion of truth in the world.  Up early with a story in my head, however, and I wrote down the opening 500 words so as not to forget it.  It was the Poetry Business deadline for sending in a poetry collection, but this is exactly at the wrong moment in terms of where I am with my work. I tried to fudge it but after several hours,...

Year Zero and a jaded old hack I was getting some poetry ready and pinpointing places to send it, when I suddenly felt completely sickened and fed up. I slouched off for a long walk in an autumnal park. What Sogyal Rinpoche calls the Monkey Mind was reminding me that I had my first poems published when I was 22 (which I did) why are you still having to schlep around like a beginner when you've spent over half your life being a published poet? Then I remembered all the rejections I'd ever had (ignoring all the acceptances). I also recalled my life when I had made poetry my priority in my 20s and early 30s. Poverty, Bleak House-like publishers delays culminating in sickening disappointments, such as just missing out at Faber & Faber, nicely rounded off by the death of my best writer friend. However a walk in the park and a timely call from Bob, made me feel much better. I suggested to the old Mad dog that he set up a Zen guidance hotline. He helped me to realise that no wonde...