I’m having an epiphany. My moment of revelation actually lasted about ninety minutes. It wasn’t the first time I was traumatised by a television. That happened first in the World at War in the scene where a chicken farmer was splashed by brains. The mood music and laconic narration of Laurence Olivier helped fix this scene forever in my memory. We were shown how the grey matter that had just been thinking terror had sullied the splendid military uniform of a man for whom executions were timed as a newsreel opportunity. Such was Himmler’s power that people slaughtered other people just to appease him. Such was the wilful ignorance in Nazi Germany that this wasn’t considered abnormal behaviour.[Read more…] about Universal Challenges: Part 1
Libran Writer posted earlier this year about a visit to see an exhibition in Margate. The post was ten months ago, which seems almost as hard to believe as that the visit itself had occurred exactly a year before. Since I’m married to Libran Writer, you won’t be surprised to learn that I was there too. We had stumbled into the show the day before the official opening so we had the place pretty much to ourselves. What a treat that was.[Read more…] about Missing Notes Left in Space
The Road Not Taken I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. ROBERT FROST[Read more…] about Uncertainties, Alright Jack?
I’m on the mailing list for the The London Review of Books and every now and then their Diverted Traffic anti-news newsletter catches me with an appetite for a morsel from their archives.
While I enjoy these essays, reviews and stories, I savour the memories that they invoke. I’m living a lot of my life in my head at the moment and remembering unusual experiences gives me food for thought and a recipe for journaling.[Read more…] about Banquet Gānbēi