Nonsense upon Stilts

on

[Well, it sounds better than ‘a hodge podge of things recent but forgotten in posts’, and comes from Jeremy Bentham]

I learned today that my former UHD colleague, Dan Shea, was leading a crew of students around London the very same time that I was and stayed at the Royal National around the corner from us *and* drank at the Marquis of Cornwallis, too, without ever running into me. How odd is that? How big is London, too. They were even at the Globe the same day as us (at the evening show, but standing in almost the very same spot we stood as groundlings in the afternoon).

I wonder if he saw the mouse that was in the pub, apparently running over my feet that night (or so the people at the next table said). One of the things I forgot to mention in my last post: Sunday morning as I headed out I heard the distinctive sound of drums which my feet can never resist, so I headed through Russell Square, much to my surprise, to run right into the Pagan Pride Parade (in the States, it comes in the fall). Drummers, dancers, banners waving — and people singing, laughing, dancing and running through the fountains in the park. Wonderful serendipity.

Oh, and there was a trouser press in my room. How could I not meet a Bonzo?

I wrote a flash fiction piece in the Rothko room at the Tate Modern and yes, I’ve already sent it off for submission. While at the Mod, I also scribbled down a line from Jenny Holzer‘s “Inflammatory Essays” piece: “Fear is the most elegant weapon, your hands are never messy…” Sums up the current administration quite succinctly.

Last Wednesday I went back to the National Gallery mostly because I wanted some Caravaggios (while wondering whether all libertines eventually repent), but I also looked in on “Les Grand Baigneuses” (as one must) and Alison Watt’s “Phantom” exhibit, which included a video of her working — always wonderful to see an artist in process. Better yet, there was a string quartet playing in the gallery, so I got a little Haydn before going off to see Middleton.

The move crawls along: the LPs (yes, we do still have some) have been moved to my office because there’s no room in the new flat and they can’t go in storage without warping. After some hemming and hawing went to Mahar’s to meet the Tuesday crew (which was a skeleton crew but still enjoyable). Back to it tomorrow after trying to get some writing done tonight. Everything seems to creep along. But even miniscule movement qualifies as motion.

Yes, still peevish about being back, missing London’s swirl, but slowly resigning myself to the work that lies ahead.