7am Susan’s alarm went off, out the door by 8.15 or so; invited me to human rights conference if I didn’t leave for Shrewsbury. Great Gatsby. Bath-ed. Dentist finally picked up at 9am – my appt was for Tues, but I could move it to Fri 11am, so I did. Doctor is Thurs at 4pm. Packed bags, had some breakfast, emailed V (‘alone’ again in London) & Llyn (went to Zurich) & Ensign (St Paul’s youth hostel), finished Great Gatsby. A tragedy. Man living in his dreams of the past, misunderstood, killed for the one crime he did not commit. Kinda contrived, depressing in the life it observed and in its take on that life – but loved F Scott Fitzgerald’s writing. The outsider looking in, just inside ‘enough’ to get the look in to take the snapshot; long sentences that restores language to something to be paid attention to; quirky images and turns of phrase. Like Conference of the Birds in that way (the author an outsider-insider). / 11.30am Bakerloo to Queens Park & 34 Lynton Rd, saw Kris again who wished us well on our journey to Mali. Stopped for petrol and a sandwich (tuna-sweetcorn). 14.30 David Hughes’ (Kaptin Hornblower) at Westminster Drive 47 in Hinckley. Chatted in the sunny conservatory for ½ hr over a cuppa Darjeeling. His mother is poorly and might die any day. Has had leukemia for 10 years, but has been fine. Then discovered a tumor in her thumb and amputated it – but have now found a lump in her lymph nodes. She’s in a shelter / hospice, where she’s receiving care. David says he can’t – nor would he want to – give her the kind of care she requires. His brother is ‘worse than useless’; he hasn’t even been to see her since he learned of her condition after complaining to David she wasn’t answering her phone at home. David was planning on spending some weeks in Marval (France), but wants to stay near his mother for the time being. He’s excited to go to Salif’s gig in Birmingham later in Oct, once Wren reminded him, and would also like to join for the party (and jam-session) with musicians and dancers Wren is planning to host in Shrewsbury. David keeps a neat and well-loved house, the walls adorned with African masks, ‘jokes’ (like the stuffed cats) tucked here and there. He lives off his pension (he was made redundant and then took retirement at 54) and giving sax lessons. He said he’d been apprehensive about living on such a small income, but he’s finding he’s perfectly fine. 15.30 Left to meet Ray in Bliss Hill (sp?) near Telford for a discussion of the space to be used for the performance on Oct 30th. Took the M69 the wrong way (N rather than S) and ended up delayed looping north on the M1 and west on the A5 – so missed meeting with Ray. 17.30 stopped at a pub for a pee and cuppa tea and some prefab crumble with custard. Judy from Tom’s Shoes was scheduled to call Wren at 1800 but never did. 19.00 or so: got some groceries at Sainsbury’s in Shrewsbury (Moede Brice retail ctr, sp?) on the way home (it’s a 7min walk – or bike – from Wren’s). 19.30 37 Oak Street. Imogen at home doing her homework on the couch watching TV. Wren ordered some gin & tonics and we cheers-ed our reunion. Dinner of tortellini with arabiata sauce, and salad, watching Tricky Things (or some such – the show about retired detectives solving unsolved mysteries). Suggested we watch a 2nd episode and then slept through it. Imi did the dishes on Wren’s command (since she hadn’t done them last time asked).
Wren’s place is a tip. Stuffed to the gills with crap. No clear surface. What’s garbage? Dusty, hasn’t been cleaned in ages. Similar feel to Susan’s, in a way – just Susan has nice stuff and she does keep it clean. An English woman-of-a-certain-age thing? Reminds me of the Vincent in Brixton observation by a Dutchman of British lack of cleanliness. I can live with it: I’m revulsed, I can’t ‘understand’ / ‘conceive of’ living this way -- but somehow don’t feel it affecting my person… or: my person is outside of it. How Marybeth chooses to live, how Vernon chooses to live, creates a much greater sense of well-being. I do wonder whether Wren notices the difference. Or if all of life is ‘camping’ – and when she’s in nicer homes all she perceives is the ‘good luck’ of the nice atmosphere, not the effort that goes into it. Or maybe she appreciates it, just knows she doesn’t want to make the sacrifices to achieve it. I don’t either, really – but I don’t like the results when the effort is NOT made. And I’m realizing that the effort, made habit, is not as great a burden as I make it when investing more in thought than action.
Wren was in a great mood this morning. Because she’d seen her art in a show in London? Because the sun was shining? No, just because J Nice to be around that energy again.
On the way to Queens Park on the tube: The Purpose of life is to experience Magic, Bliss. And: My view is my gift; seeing the world as I do is my contribution; that’s it, that’s all I have, and that’s great / enough / what it’s all about (each blood cell making it’s addition to / creating together the throbbing rush in the arteries of life)
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