089. Rain

Not that it did today, for the first time in what feels like weeks. When I came back from the draining heat in the midwest of the USA, I was so happy to see the rain, but finally I had enough. Today was perfect, blue sky, fluffy clouds, a light breeze and 25°C. An optimistic day. Nothing had changed, in the things that were giving me pause for thought, the job situation was the same, the other stuff too. But I felt lighter. So pinching Valerie's "Rainy Days and Mondays" today (because now, that SONG is in MY head) and pairing it with an image of rain in Tokyo, all neon lights and reflected shop windows.

I was very alone in Tokyo, I wandered around and I was the only red-headed person I saw. People stared, not in a bad way, but they stared. I reached out for you then, even though it had been months since we last spoke. And you were there, you answered me. You always answer me, even if I don't have a question, or if all of my questions boil down to whether you still feel me there.
How do I stop the reaching, when stopping pushes it into a blind clutching?

064. Daisies

After the Chicago night, the daytime, wandering in Millenium Park and coming across an oxymoron, a cultivated meadow. Despite that, it was lovely to see, I was not quite sure at first if the flowers were meant to be just there, some did seem to be growing wild, but eventually I came to the conclusion that it was meant to be that way. It was lovely, and restful to see, even with the skyscrapers and the sculptured bridge shining, reflecting for all they were worth behind the "nature". I picked one of Valerie's flower images, "Buzzing About" to go with the image (cropped only - no photoshop trickery!)

"It takes a lot of work to look this scruffy, you know!" she protested... too much...

022. Flowers

With Valerie Brodie's unfurling unfolding rose in my minds eye, I bought flowers in the market this morning. The cobblestones and pavements are at last beginning to be replaced after the market square has been half dug up for what seems like months. Fine grit gets into my open toed sandals. Orange lilies for Seville. Which led me back to Katie Bentley's Rose Cathedral. Growth and death; beauty and religion. My thoughts are too convoluted for straight words today.

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these [...] Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. 

This bible quote seems a fine exhortation of passivity, and is followed up with the suggestive phrase "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," with its hints that thinking about tomorrow today allows evil to spill over into the future. For God's sake little children, do not think about the future or you will ruin it.

To be blunt, it's not pleasant to think that Seville is a corpse, that we will all be corpses in the future; but not thinking about it seems to be a case of wilful self-delusion. Blind faith if you will.

003. Spring

Valerie's wistful "Digging in the dirt" was today's inspiration, thinking on the seasons. I associate dandelion clocks with long summers, feet burning on the warm tarmac of the path next to the bank beside the garden... My brother and I, we blow the seeds away and tease each other about wetting the bed. So Valerie's image seems early, and mine is late, taken on OSU campus in Spring, it is a hangover from the previous autumn, and a haiku below.

                           at the beginning
                           and end I am threadbare, no
                           wonder you move on