Back to business?

Well, that stopped. I can’t remember exactly why but my attention probably moved to something else. Let’s have another crack.

I’ll try looking through my USB stick from that time to see if there’s anything there and I’ll try some new bits too.

Here we go again!

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There’s so much…

Thought process inspired by http://www.radiolab.org/blogs/radiolab-blog/2011/may/09/radiolab-reads-virtual-bookshelf/

There’s SO MUCH to see and read and absorb and experience now… it should be the aim of a person to try and get round at least some of it. The fact is though, that many people just don’t have the time. It’s disappointing, and ridiculous. We’re living in the future, for god’s sake!! Look!! But we’ve got our heads stuck in the work… for so much of the time that only do we not see most of it, our curiosity to have a look when we have spare time is dissolved by our working lives.

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Michael Kamber, on photojournalism today

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Misaki classroom. Rows of black glubs of hair disappeared.

Flip flip flip, pages swifted through. Lines and points, lines and points of the chairs with the desks in front. Frup to all but the last page and back cover. Silent photos, still letters of the alphabet dancing at the top and bottom of the page. Feeling of the hard edge of the desk under trouser, one shoe flat on the chair the other hanging, pulling on my leg muscles.

The empty classroom. Vacant blackboard. Birds performing various activities in the sunlight outside. Stillness within the windows. No walls, by design. Just metal strips between a wall of panes, with a blackboard and a set of noticeboards at each end.

Two-high rows of doorless wooden lockers from the floor to the windows – about waist height. Twists and scraps of white paper here and there in the wooden compartments. Notices on various pastel-coloured sheets hanging from corners on the noticeboards.. Boring in grids and tables.

I’m sitting here thinking I should be feeling some definable feeling. Thinking that there’s a legitimate reason for sitting here. I guess it is weird, cos it’s empty. Up until now, pretty much all of the time when I was here it was full of activity. But, honestly it doesn’t even seem like the same place. It feels like an innocent entity, used and then discarded. The fact is it wasn’t discarded at all, but abandoned. The people were taken out and discarded.

Healthy, bright, green grass shooting in sprigs from the nobbly-surfaced concrete. So many right-angles making up the memorial statue. Mostly all in the same, flat grey, everything in the square. Even the road, as if constructed from a single piece.of the stuff. A moulded shallow rolling around the statue and back out the way it had come.

Flat white formica in a big, rectangular piece, above the dark-brown painted wooden skeleton of the shop window of a shop. A single magazine or newspaper rack, almost the height of me, standing inside. Where did the others go? It’s just standing there on a floor, of various materials, eternably scattered with bits and scraps of things, lines, cracks and sprigs. Two or more of the same kind of thing throughout the square – and I thought that replicas were always mass-produced in factories. These things are largely the same. Mass-production isn’t an unnatural thing at all – it’s the most natural thing in the world. You’ll be saying that leaves were made in warehouses, next.

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But I’m really not sure. This seems to be working just fine. Just fine, that’s all. I don’t like it some days when the dust men don’t come. It doesn’t seem to make sense why they would leave the trash like that, just lying there for all to see. I mean, they put so much effort into cleaning up the leaves in the park, but the leaves in the park are such beautiful things. I hear it’s a maintenance thing – if they leave the leaves there, then it degrades the tarmac and things. And that is exactly why on earth they spend all of that time and money cleaning up the leaves. Those beautiful leaves. It really gives me a feeling of fall when I’m walking through those leaves, that soft crunchy feeling under my feet. I can ‘t do much with myself these days, I can’t walk very fast or far at all, but goddamn it I can still walk and it’s a small pleasure to be able to walk on the leaves in the park once in every while. I have to be careful to catch the leaves before they get cleaned up. If I leave before 9am on some days I can do it, but sometimes even then it’s a little too late. Sometimes they’re already gone. Of course, they don’t clean up every day, so after they’ve been cleaned up it gets a little more cluttered day by day. Yes. 9am. If I go earlier than that then I get caught up in all of the teenagers going to school, and that’s not very nice at all. They aren’t very friendly, some of those people. Some of them are friendly, but some of them don’t seem to be very nice at all. I won’t talk about that now because I tend to get a bit upset.

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There isn’t anything left. There isn’t anything left. Heeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavvvvveee. Heave Heeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavvvvvvvvvvveeeee. Heeeeaaaaaaaa. Vvvvvvveeeee. Heeaaa.

There isn’t anything left to come out. Eeeeaave……….. Eeeaavvve…………. Eeeave……….. The grass is brushing sick in lines against my cheek, I’m staring at a pile of it flattening out the grass. Around me is the fields, I’m flushed hot. .COUGH. COUGH A little more acidy sick……… spit it out, a long string, breaks into the grass. ……..

……………..Ah what. What do I do now? School must be starting now. What’s the time. I don’t know. School must be starting now. I’m late. I’m late. Ding dong ding dong, dong ding ding dong. Huhhhh. That’s it. I’m in the wrong place. Uh. It’s done. Acidy taste. I’m late.

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If you were to sketch out the flight of the little tits it would look like this:-

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