Monday, April 13, 2015

It's been a while but you've probably gathered that what with the holidays & one thing & another we've been out & about (5 days in the UK ... London ... Richard Diebenkorn exhibition ... Antwerp ... Ikea ... ) swimming & generally enjoying sinking into that porridge-like state of letting the days go by ("... and you may ask yourself ...")

Reading at the moment centres around Michael Palmer & threads leading from his work (Wallace Stevens ... Wittgenstein ... the Ray Monk biography ... ) which, in turn, have further extensions ... Joan Retallack's Poethics in particular.

On Saturday (rainy all day) I bit the bullet & tackled the piles of books, CDs & papers that had accumulated upstairs. There comes a point when outer disorder begins to confirm inner stagnation. Looking at the stacks of LRBs & old copies of Modern Painters I wondered when, if ever, would I have the time or inclination to go through them? The old question returns - am I a library? A: no.

So I started to flip through the MPs tearing out any articles or reproductions that caught my eye. &, inevitably, this has revived earlier obsessions & led me to a new figure - Wes Mills (more later).

As for the LRBs, I've struck a deal with myself. I will keep the past two years' worth & work through the others (dating back to 2008) over the next month. Useful articles will be kept, the rest binned or passed on to a colleague.

This is aside from the copies of The Wire which date right back into the 90s. I know why I keep them - that recurrent event of a new discovery in music which sends me back to articles & interviews that held no interest years ago. Yet ... again ... at what point does it become absurd especially when a current subscription gives access to back issues? What strange subconscious need makes me hold on them ... ?

& ... for those wondering ... jogging.

While over in the UK I made a conscious decision not to go out. Getting off the bus up near Piccadilly I was acutely aware of the annoying twinge in the left ankle. I limped, more or less, to the Royal Academy. However, after the Diebenkorn, I walked on up to my old stamping grounds (Charlotte Street via Charing Cross Road & Tottenham Court Road) & as if through sheer insistence the Achilles began to ease. Since then walking has been back to normal - a bit of stiffness first thing. & so ...

... this morning at 7am I donned the running shoes & headed for the Hippodrome. One careful circuit (about 1500m) & everything seemed fine. I walked back & then went for a swim. & this, I think, will be the routine for the week. Assuming the twinge doesn't return, I'll increase the distance next week. No doubt about it, it feels good to be jogging along again - the fresh air, the woodpecker banging his head against the tree, the sense of being up & about, the buzzy feeling in the palms & wrists ...


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It seems my crystal ball was not so grubby ... ... resisting the temptation to say "told you so".