Tag Archives: sunday

Sunday

  • sometimes the marriage is a Pushme-Pullyou
  • there are only so many Rainbow Fairy adventures with Rachel, Kirsty, and the banally bad Jack Frost you can do, in all their mannered Englishness
  • today these five hours have a vacuous grey dull and indistinct flatness

Sunday

  • heavy coal clouds leaden with cold and wet. Not the high dark anger of summer thunder but low flat dense thick smothering the day.
  • fresh home baked Swedish cinnamon buns, heavy sweetness that makes sense if you’ve sat by the water in your hytte
  • a day made melancholy by its cascade of nots

Sunday

  • writing with lucid rising excitement
  • dangerous frustration that sneaks into loathing and sabotage (I have not ridden my bike for the best part of a month)
  • surprise that other people think you have it so more together than you do

Sunday

  • Cloud dripping all the way down and sky is horizon and horizon sky. Metronomic streaks of rain as plumes in our wake. Mechanical rubber scrapes hardened automotive glass. I often wonder what Turner would have made of this concrete steel bitumined hardness made soft.
  • Learning of Miklòs Szentkuthy
  • a new holland honeyeater. Lithe, slender, flitting upside down, black white streaks and emblem even shield flash of golden coverts. Some honeyeaters are all industry, others insouciance.