Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day (cleanskies) wrote,
Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day
cleanskies

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territory, light, context, confusion, idea, fear

Always mistrust the people who say naturally this, and obviously that and evidentally the other, or, worse yet self-evidently anything. It's likely that, perfectly naturally, they'll fetch up hurting you horribly and then blaming you for not seeing it coming. If you're especially lucky, they may fetch up dissecting your behaviour and deciding that you deliberately planned it so that they would hurt you all along, and that you are therefore plotting against them, and that they should start counter-plotting right away. Better to stick with the ones like yourself, who have to construct "natural" human behaviour from echoes.

Lollies, treats and sweets are not the cakes I crave to eat. No, actually, the problem's one of context -- while choc ices and cornettos may be fine and good I find it strange to have a choc-ice in a bowl as a natural end to a meal. I struggle through it twice and then politely refuse pudding, a girl can always do that, nobody's miffed when a woman refuses food.

Blue blooms black over the Sound of Mull. Take another pill, keep putting it off.

Chaffinch, Goldfinch, Common Sparrow, Hedge Sparrow, Robin, Common Gull, Black-backed Gull, Oystercatcher, Buzzard, Sea Eagle, Golden Eagle, Hooded Crow, Rock Dove, Pigeon, Cormorant, Heron, where's my Michael Nyman soundtrack when I need it? And why do they have a plain video tape labelled "AIR CRASH" ?

Over the Sound, the clouds echo the mountains and the mountains aspire to be clouds. On the slopes, the moss and grass lump in appliqué tussocks, scribble of wet bracken like brown lace and amber beads, black satin of wet rock embroidered with threads of silver water, patchwork of grey and green and brown fading into a soft white velvet sky.

Grey-green on the water, and flickering lights. Stifling in dog-stench, walking dogs in my sleep. Pale fungal trees and strange toadstooly gingerbread. Wierd sweets, stale crisps, flavourless coffee. Anxious dogs and dimming lights. Slabs of meat and hairy feet. Wet and cold, water and wind. Strops and sulks and misunderstandings (it wouldn't be Christmas unless/they're not happy unless, she has something to panic about/complain about, a good cry/sulk, tears into me, makes a huge fuss, carries on) and how did I fetch up everyone's mother confessor, and looking after the baby, to boot?
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