Signal Clear

Moss growing in the words carved on a grave flagstone, Dunbar. Contrast turned way up to help with reading

I have been trying to read what the stone above says on it – Here lyes haste Patrick…who…this life…take(?)… – if anyone is good at decoding the worn and the moss grown, please chime in (like the bells of a cathedral). I am interested in those spaces mutated by time and nature, the worn, the seeded, the words interrupted by lichens and the washing away of stone by the weather.


This in contrast to the living spaces some of you have so kindly shared. It makes for an interesting and incomplete dichotomy, between the living line (word brush pencil) and the dead.  In both, the continuity is change: Lyra’s train seat which she leaves and returns to, a seat which is hers and different each time.  Anna Fonte’s chair, which is still in the picture as it once was, now moved (that makes it sound terribly serious). Think of your papers, ephemera,  work in motion, creativity manifest. The changeability and constant of human needs and wants: for a light-soaked view; for home comforts; for the sweet consolations of pets at our feet; for a good drink of water; for our words and images to mean, endure, be transferred on.


I think of how I am constructing characters who must always place and replace themselves within this frame, of the living and the remaining and the sometimes terrible inevitable pace of change. I think of how they must make their peace, and how hard that is sometimes.


For myself, I think of how much information I am taking in on a daily basis – how many words, how many sights that fire, overfire my brain.  Which is my way of coming to – how I need a short break, after all these encounters. Insightful as they have been, I need now to sit and think, instead of search and see. Not for long, just to give myself time to read the words and the images with due diligence, instead of at break-neck. I’ll be light as a ghost till then, back to full solidity at some point next week.



Filed under 2012, art, consolations of reading, consolations of writing, reading, The Millenial, The Now, Theory

8 responses to “Signal Clear

  1. CJ

    Wise writer see you later.

  2. Enjoy your much needed break.
    A schie returning to body-form, no?

  3. Jealous. Wish I could unplug. Enjoy!

  4. Well said. Sometimes people will ask, “How do you find stuff to write about?” Which always makes me laugh — the problem is seeing about 20 things a day that could worm their way into a hell of a story.

    And while I love a good conversation, I also love silence. Enjoy your break.

  5. macdougalstreetbaby

    I hear you. Oh, boy, do I hear you.

  6. Nicely said. We’ll miss you. . .

  7. I do like your pic of the head stone, cant make it all out, but that is part of the mystery. I love reading head stones, the older the better, every stone has a short story to tell…

  8. I’ve just had a fair break and am itching for head clarity, silence, long hours with words. Hope your break unfolds well.

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