the sourcerer: Where no cars go.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Where no cars go.

Today, in a week, my life be my own again.

The nasties will have flown off back to where they belong... most of them anyway. There will be time for friends and cooking and sleeping well...

The long legged man will walk through my door once more, returned from his long travels. He sends me pictures from a country where most people don't own cars. Can you imagine that?

Cape Town is beautiful today, washed clean after the rains, with a thick lashing of Spring in the air.

A Friday treat: lunch from Jason Bakery. A Buffalo and Thyme sausage roll, piping hot from the oven. And a brownie for dessert. Not just any old brownie.

I sigh to think that Jason never asked me out when we were neighbors. I would have fallen in love with his tattoos and his cooking and become very fat. And if we had married, my name would now be Lily Lilley.

6 comments:

ckzero said...: Lily Lilley - a girl so great they named her twice.; August 24, 2012 at 2:34 PM
the sourcerer said...: and she takes a bow...
:-); August 24, 2012 at 3:13 PM
Petro said...: Wonderlik, Lily. Ek love dit. Goeie nuus dat die Langbeenman terug kom.

Petro; August 24, 2012 at 3:42 PM
the sourcerer said...: dankie Petro!
my hart klop vinniger by die gedagte.; August 26, 2012 at 10:53 AM
Karen Bekker said...: yay!!

Cheers to normality x; August 30, 2012 at 9:34 AM
tanjawilmot said...: phhhhaaah. relief, I am sure. long legged man, may he be a joy to behold when he appears. still, yes, one must rue the passing of opportunities, especially ones that would look so good on one's brass name plate.; September 10, 2012 at 12:11 PM

Post a Comment

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.