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there's an app for almost everything

I was wondering about where my PMS had got too, when all of a sudden I spotted a rather eighties cheap cream suit in a charity shop and wanted to brutally murder Neil Gaiman. Ah, there it is. Hello, PMS.

It's not just Neil Gaiman. There's a host of other authors, some obscure unknowns, others big names (Iain Banks, Jerzy Kosinski) who wrote something once that I read and it got lodged in my head somehow, and that thing will rise, unbidden and unasked for, and fill me with existential horror. Perhaps one day I should make a list of them, and try to analyse why they linger when other things fade; perhaps that would make it even less likely I'll ever forget them. My memory and I; it's one of those difficult relationships.

There are amazing things, too, stuck sideways in my memory. Like the poem High Windows by Philip Larkin. Here, let me link you to it, on Bookake. I'm always vaguely amused to find people trying to interpret High Windows online; arguing that he's talking about sin or getting old or envy or some such stuff. The poem self-analyses, is almost like a dictionary entry:

High Windows : The feeling of hope/envy/awe felt by the older generation when considering the new advantages/opportunities/freedoms now so available to the current generation that they cannot conceive of a time when they did not exist, and therefore percieve them as ordinary, and their minds turn to the next improvement.

This weekend past I found myself talking about the internet and suffered a High Windows moment, future shock and nostalgia intermingled, faint wash of sorrow for the awesome novelty that has become only ordinary; wild flash of hope for wonders yet to come.

Some comics I forgot to post earlier. There may be more.


( 6 worms — Feed the birds )
19th May, 2009 20:42 (UTC)
Chop the elephant: Ha! You have my boss - I feel your pain. Well, almost, mine can't even do fancy metaphors, just whimpering. You see how it could be so much worse!

Dresses: Arf, what poor soul had to comb the streets with you for many, many hours for dresses? I can't cope without my mum to help for such things. (Unless it's Xtreme dresses - but they don't count.)

20th May, 2009 06:10 (UTC)
that one's historical
-- from my days at Oxfam -- which did seem to attract the bright, enthusiastic, hand-wavy types. Although I see them practically every time I'm at some training or a conference. People occasionally tell me I should do training and oh my heart just sinks.

That's tinyjo, who did OK out of the day actually -- some pretty dresses, and she went back to one of the places to do a proper shop without me!
20th May, 2009 08:47 (UTC)
Ladies and gentlemen, the best opening lines to a Livejournal entry ever?

22nd May, 2009 13:08 (UTC)
High Windows is a fine poem. It popped into my mind recently, I forget why, I was probably having a 'high windows' moment as you describe.

There was something about Poet Laureates on the TV last night, and they mentioned he was offered it but turned it down ('too old, too ill', I think). If only he had been more well / inspired.

They fuck you up your mum and dad
Happy birthday, ma'am.

22nd May, 2009 18:24 (UTC)
Oh, it's the Thing!

Nice coincidence about your linking to Bookake -- James Bridle was the old fan of yours I met back in Februray at Bookcamp who was pleased to discover you were still around.
22nd May, 2009 18:40 (UTC)
have to say
Bookake is the best name for a bookblog ever
( 6 worms — Feed the birds )