the sourcerer: Hello World!

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Hello World!

Our New Year's Eve dinner. Spartan but delicious. It included dancing on a rooftop.

01/01/11. Dawn.
This day is marked by thunder and soft rain.

And pushing the boundaries of shyness.
The meeting of cyber-friends. Marie and I have been linking and commenting since June last year. Through her blog I came across Voer and they came across me. There's been talk for some time about the connection of dots and lunch under a tree in Constantia when everyone's in town. There were blizzards and there was snow, but finally they all arrived from New York, Southampton and Arcadia.
Marie neglected to say that this tree is the biggest plane tree in the world, with leaves the size of dinner plates. It was a long and lazy lunch. We ate like kings. Read the menu here.

If someone had said to me last New Year's day: 'A year from today you will have lunch with ten fantastic strangers as a result of your blog.', I would have laughed and asked: what is a blog exactly?

What a wonderful world we live in.

4 comments:

Chris said...: Blooming awesome.; January 1, 2011 at 7:00 PM
Marie said...: Thank you for coming, Lily. I'm not sure I would have been that brave. :-) It was so nice to meet you at last, and thank goodness someone took pictures, mine are awful!; January 2, 2011 at 11:37 AM
Marijke said...: Fantastic - yes it is a strange a lovely world!; January 7, 2011 at 8:29 AM
arcadia said...: Was dit nie net heerlik nie? So bly ons kon dit doen.; January 9, 2011 at 4:13 PM

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You could tend a garden at night, only at night, pouring dark water onto leaves, and into the earth, like pouring midnight onto midnight. You could hold your soil-stained hands up to the moon. The stars would gleam on the bottom of the shovel. It would smell the same as a daytime garden - it would smell green, violet, red, white. But come back, in daylight. Come back, to see the colours without closing your eyes.
- Sean Michaels. Accompaniment to the song "Immune" by LOW. Said the Gramophone

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to."
Jim Jarmusch (1953- )

You got very hungry when you did not eat enough in Paris because all the bakery shops had such good things in the windows and people ate outside at tables on the sidewalk so that you saw and smelled the food. When you had given up journalism and were writing nothing that anyone in America would buy, explaining at home that you were lunching out with someone, the best place to go was the Luxembourg gardens where you smelled and saw nothing to eat all the way from the Place de l'Observatoire to the rue de Vaugirard. There you could always go into the Luxembourg museum and all the paintings were sharpened and clearer and more beautiful if you were belly-empty, hollow-hungry. I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry. I used to wonder if he were hungry too when he painted; but I thought possibly it was only that he had forgotten to eat. It was one of those unsound but illuminating thoughts you have when you have been sleepless or hungry. Later I thought that Cézanne was probably hungry in a different way.
Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) - from A Moveable Feast.