Anthology and absurdity
Lorraine off to school, and I started work right away too. First time for a while when I have been able to truly focus on my own work, and I have a huge cloud of things to be done. But I decided to simply do them one by one. Wrote to Richard. Then started read through the Telltale Anthology. Looking at the poems Sarah assembled, some poems I thought weak when we discussed them in December, seemed the strongest this time around. A reminder that submitting work is often just about finding the right reader at the right time. In short, luck.
I went for a walk midday, listening to the last of The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien, which has made me laugh out loud several times. It is one of the best novels I have read, and it sits in my mind somewhere between Samuel Beckett and Dante, but with added hilarity, written in a fluent high style and full of absurdities. I clearly remember being first recommended this book when I was 21. It has taken me till now to do so. It is a masterpiece of black comedy.
I walked to the sea, and on the pier, my iPone shut down. When I got home and plugged it in, it had 72% power. This has never happened before. My chief irritation was that my pedometer did not record all the good work I was doing walking.
Both Lorraine and I tired this evening, and we went to bed at half past nine, and I read most of The Chairs, a play by Ionesco, a theatre of the absurd piece, before dropping to sleep.
Below a view of the muted sea colours and overcast sky. The soul having to work hard to sing.
I went for a walk midday, listening to the last of The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien, which has made me laugh out loud several times. It is one of the best novels I have read, and it sits in my mind somewhere between Samuel Beckett and Dante, but with added hilarity, written in a fluent high style and full of absurdities. I clearly remember being first recommended this book when I was 21. It has taken me till now to do so. It is a masterpiece of black comedy.
I walked to the sea, and on the pier, my iPone shut down. When I got home and plugged it in, it had 72% power. This has never happened before. My chief irritation was that my pedometer did not record all the good work I was doing walking.
Both Lorraine and I tired this evening, and we went to bed at half past nine, and I read most of The Chairs, a play by Ionesco, a theatre of the absurd piece, before dropping to sleep.
Below a view of the muted sea colours and overcast sky. The soul having to work hard to sing.
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