...... That Ark
Today, but as if by magic, yesteraft.... how sweet they look, mum and lass toodlin' along ...
I bet she wonders though, "why does mine ma keep liaising with that longhaired weirdo...?"
NO!
That same 'hanging judge'
The same stretch.
But there was simply no way I would in truth be ready, with a Ma like that.
Unless I had for real - no masks no three faces, no..... b.s.
And thus it can end. And there was only ever one ending.
But to begin, after all it was in her garden out-of-year even if in-year....
To stand there last summer ....
Actually that was after cyclin' along and she gave the 'friendly finger'
text "was that you earlier .. I thought you had frazzled..?"
And then to stand there, her rather voluble hair.
She will never know but I knew.
After all it was her needles i collected from her mother's garden.
Her mother too busy being English - the real version, to care.
To get up.
And clear her needles.
Or the dogshit.
Or....
Exactly: she got it... "but then just a day ago i was chatting up a wonderful passport, oops i mean woman.... and she got it, but then as i was cycling off i pondered.. her expression on asking her version
" ' parque de attraciones' oh and how my heart melted at her gorgeous articulation...but that's the problem with Babel, the real and empathetic version: how on on reflection do i know if she did indeed 'get' the nuance that even the so called educated Brit of a certain age takes as implicit..... that, like here, they are...not really a good thing...i cannot really know unless we go Neruda, but then no one ever can.."
But t'was in her garden...
Just aside from the second most pernicious theme park of them all. Despite what the estate agents and tourist guides, never mind festival lit., state... never mind the (" oh Cathy.... barring that choccie... you are a goddess I mean you too get it, yes the Guardian was it 2006... Torygraph a few years later...Times a few years ago and i know the fella who brags of his shop being in the photo ... which is not captioned that he went bankrupt for fraud a year or so before whuch he does not stop bragging about as the only tragedy in the history of humanity which ain't quite the 'Zen' he also brags of... as t'would be in an actual report of the actual truth...of the theme parc.." )
In the garden next door: " listen you're cultured.... I am confused.... I understand the zeitgeist bizarrely as I am a part time hermit, ascetic, and pure and unviolable by crappy Guardian reviews based on some Miss Interpretation of the zeitgeist for their own pernicious project....and as I once knew Rusbridger and what books he liked - as i would get them in, for him...
"I do get it that you cannot trust any so called culture section never mind it all becoming around here even as if one of his absurd colour supplements...
" This angel, here.... she [really should be semi-bold] gifted me ...well..... it just came about..... now I don't trust her mother as far as the first step of the local loony bin, where there are a fair few she admitted....
"I asked the same question one of a true scholar indeed Madame of the most nationally venerated musical department, 'me I'm just a homespun person whom only responds to the visceral....even if it sometimes still feels as if the whole of my last twenty years is somehow to be found within his superb Third.... but you true culturatti, to you, not me the idiot fool gut feeler and uneducated man... is he really any good... old Henryk....??? I have waited maybe ten years to find someone i trust to ask that question...who will not three face and mask me with pleasant trees growing out of a pile of b.s. .... Griselda...
(Oh jesus, i had forgit.....it is from that same one year so magnificent .... and that of her birth too.... no such thing as coincidence except when you have about ten every day...for years and are very well versed in real science and thus double check continually for...imagination...... which she got, too )
Back to the garden, out-of-year... but i had a sense then that ...or rather a wish: if there was one person everyone else hated who deserved a second chance. It was a secret little bizarre gut feeling. Some years. But then the year before the most glorious year, I saw her; I saw that look as the local confirmed junky paraded by. I knew, despite her affirmations and Jesus freakery.... Jesus hadn't actually done a very good job of really 'saving' her... done his job fuckin PROPERLY either ....
back to the conversation, this year..
oops no, so many threads to weave together here
But i know one thing, this time I know exactly who gets the finished colorful wrap.
Or rather, why.
And why she must never know exactly, why....
Because anyone who pushes down to the next lot even the greatest theosophy or metaphysical gift
Does not 'get' it
If there is an 'it' - or as i generally joke to my Chrétien friends "absolute proof your god is female as only a lassie up there could have such a cruel sense of humour... never mind all this meetwo friggin ell us lot have had their two thousand years of being titular boss, give them their turn now and they may feel a bit more actually equal inside and thus not act so damn footstampy or backstabby ... (as a fair few senior female journalists of my acquaint for some time readily admit is the actual truth especially in courts of law, even if Alan's awful rag denies such truth would even be imaginable..
Anyway that's down here
Or as last year's rather fine new discovery with all that lovely Time
Mister Hoffman
Possibly just possibly In the 'interface' "maybe"- i only quote him because so splendidly i love his humility
lack of cant and vanity
the way he singlehandedly has at last returned 'science' back to where it was before insanity prevailed - which essentially was 1976, as she began to prevail and the very same year he wrote his awful knowing Selfish book they still quote even if he himself has rather rolled back to a little more : "maybe".
Anyway where was I - gardens.... can i take her back there somehow and really help?
Because i know she deserves real help.
The way in-year she so splendidly called me up and appreciated my hand written missive but more...
because it's not about me, knew somehow she must give back, too
even her, famous thief, only given candybars and junk....
she owes no one anything ever ...with a mother like that, but
she somehow knew deep down that not having self pity
Being new
Not being who she was made
... how magnificent, what a true privelage...
And she called me me on my favourite Hill....
The Hill...
But we shall see.
She will never know
though
in my notes, she is that Ark...
Unless of course one day she rightfully inherits
This.
But i get ahead of myself.
Especially as i adore absolutely nothing ever going well or as it should.
Ever.
Anything does is only icing, and icing is never nutritious....
fuck me that's almost as good as his injustice and tutor line...
