Meaux (France). Sunday.
Early morning standing next to a river flowing down past the mill. Eight o'clock or so. Mist coming off the surface of the water. Sunlight swirling in the eddies of the current as it flowed over the rocks in the river bed. Thinking about the full moon last night low above the trees. Thinking about the Shamanistic practice of projecting the mind into the contact between elements.
Suddenly four young deer run out from behind the trees on the opposite bank.
***
Get home mid-afternoon eager to hear yesterday's Radio Four 'special' on Frank Zappa using the 'Listen Again' facility. Dreary & predictable. A scissors & glue effort from the archives with Germaine Greer making it all seem rather respectable (now there's an irony).
"A Smooth Operations Production" is credited with the programme. There you have it - there was nothing 'smooth' about Zappa. Lumpy gravy gets it about right.
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Today, boys and girls, we’re going to look at ‘Song of the Chinchilla’ by Lisa Jarnot*. I liked the poem immediately – and I’ve given it to ...
1 comment:
Ah, the ever lasting love for France.
I remember writing a paper in 9th grade and you telling me it was good because you liked the idea of France.
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