Archive for February, 2010

Art and life

Posted in Uncategorized on February 27, 2010 by abandonata

Week 7: Art restoration class starts today and there are snowdrops poking through the mud.

Let’s work on the border for now – that can still be good.

Put out the light, and then put out the light

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on February 26, 2010 by abandonata

I’m in trouble with the management for going overdrawn on my Shakespeare account. Apparently we are only allowed a certain quota of Shakespeare quotes to allude to our troubles as it’s too easy to do, what with him writing all those gritty tragedies ‘n’ all. And around half my utterances this year have been stolen, unattributed, from Othello.

This was not a conscious theft of Will’s IPR – I didn’t notice the bard-leeching until accused. It’s a budget production that plays in my head – no Iago, no Cassio, no handkerchief, no Emilia, no (more) trips to Venice -just the man I loved not wisely but too well and his misconceived ideas about what I was doing leading him to destroy me.

Hey, they’ve taken all my pillows away….

Swimming and sinking

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on February 25, 2010 by abandonata

There is a new sports session when we can choose whether to sink or swim.

I tried sinking, and it’s not very far to the bottom but there’s nothing to do when you get there. Now I’m trying swimming, but that’s not easy. They really need to get the pool sorted out. I don’t think there should be all those sharks, poisonous jellyfish and other alarming perils beneath the surface that you can’t see. And actually that spreading oil slick on the surface is unhealthy. It’s very Exxon Valdez.

Evil barnacles

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on February 24, 2010 by abandonata

Today, biology. We have to find a metaphor in the natural world for the state of things.
My relationship was like an oyster that had become encrusted with evil barnacles. Inside the equal halves of the shell, there is moist, folded flesh and a pearl that will not be eroded. Outside, the barnacles have obscured the form. But with a knife they could be scraped away, the shell cleaned, the oyster restored to the fresh cool water. Pass the knife; take one yourself.

Paths over the snow

Posted in Uncategorized on February 23, 2010 by abandonata

The compulsory knitting lessons have a purpose, after all. I see now why the mind goes over and over the same things without permission and even when you threaten to kill it (either with alcohol or more permanently). It needs to fix the new pathways, re-knit the neurons to a new configuration, overlay the delight of the past with the pain of the now so that the now is not a shock every morning. It wants us to become accustomed to the now, and have to peer through the trees to see the old way. The mind is its own Stalin.

When the snow goes, the grass will be dead under the paths I have trodden through the garden. It will all be mud. This winter has made a Verdun of my life.

Re-knitting neurons

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on February 23, 2010 by abandonata

I hate knitting, but it’s a compulsory activity this week. We knit with neurons – some are long and some are short. All are recylced, so we have to unpick them first and then try to make something else from them. It’s like knitting blanket squares for Biafra when I was at primary school. We had to unpick proper garments and make stupid squares that some unknown person would (maybe) stitch together into a blanket and send to people who needed more than a rubbish blanket made by 6-year-olds. If the people in Biafra were cold, why didn’t we send the clothes we were unpicking?

And we only ever knit squares, because no-one really has a pattern. Or a clue.

Me and the tortoise

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on February 22, 2010 by abandonata

We are both waiting for it to get warm and sunny. We both don’t want to eat anything but have to. We both hate the winter, but he can sleep through it and I just have to suffer through it. I make him eat lettuces. I don’t have to eat lettuces and probably my food police would denigrate the lettuce anyway. He sleeps in the library under a shelf; I sleep in a bed. Otherwise, we have a lot in common. And I *could* sleep in the library (though not under a shelf).