Lunar Scorpio

there is a lovely moon plumping up at the moment
am brooding away . . . peacefully it feels.

another journey is being kind of tacked into some framework:
a house to stay in Italy north.
We shall hire a car.
I am designated driver.
I have to get to Bilbao though,
and Grenada, and Madrid . . . Paris perhaps?

Pushing in thumbtacks into green shapes
on blue backgrounds.


I am also newly soley house responsible
I am seeking quotes for new bath rooms.

I am recently told that the elderly lady who lived in this house before us, died in the bath. Was found there by our neighbour. I go and stand at the door of the bathroom. The old claw foot has suddenly grown magisterial with death and solemnity. The toll of a dripping tap is imagined and sad and I am grateful that I have pressed my back into that old ghost many times without knowing. My next bath becomes an apprehensive first rite. I shall be gentle and not too curious.

The Pleasure Principle vs The Reality Principle

It is ridiculous:

how much enjoyment I get out of sitting in a 'bar/restaurant"
by myself
with a glass of red wine
when it is raining and dark outside
while my child is at The Party of The Year
(for a whole hour and forty-five minutes)
when I can scribble and watch and read and Nada
is on my mind.

I am alone
I am utterly content
I am entertained
I am in a social sphere that I don't have to interact with.

The only words I say in that entire ninety-five minutes are:

- I'd like a glass of wine thanks
- shiraz
- cheers
and later, when an oblivious, self-absorbed suit doesn't adjust his body to allow me to exit
I touch his elbow and mumble, oddly and yet tellingly,
- sorry

(This is funny because much of my time spent in my corner was marvelling at those voices that can split through five scattered conversations, bar music, staffing requests and traffic noise in such places as this: the most notoriously noisy, slate floored establishment in town. Performers spend hours developing this skill and this suit who had such a voice, who I apologised to, this pompous opinionated shit, is probably an accountant. But I shall acquiesce and think, actually, it is a very unfortunate thing, because quite possibly his words are everyday humble words yet, via sheer projection, they appear as the full volume of arrogance.)

Anyway, I cannot adequately describe the bliss of that hour and a half.
And quite honestly, I think only a mother would understand.

Return

phew. . .sorted.

it was a little unnerving to be 'locked out' of my blogslice.

my head isn't at all locking any ideas for the filling today:

all a bit full, and weary and (newly identified) low after the 'high'
that goes with High Intuition days.
I have a bunch in a row, enough to get hooked,
and then I use it up and am left a bit brain pregnant . . . and no, I am NOT clucky. Although I did have
a weird 'let down' reflex dream this morning but that is another story entirely.

I went and saw Macbeth last night (Bell Shakespeare Co).

I watch live theatre with the senses of a child: I catch myself sitting, crouching on my chair, with my mouth open and my eyes popping and I think my face might be expressing my emotions without me realising it . . . all that so-called adult self-control (impulse control anyone?) out the window YYAAAYYY

off to be shadow-ey around the house