Dr Moose
Initiate
I’ve been pondering returning to blogging for a while, but dedication & and inspiration have failed to manifest. “For Lent,” I thought, “or the approaching Sabbatical.” But, nothing.
And then, after an unusually boozy night, words. Here seemed a good place to put them (as well as in the Journal).
“I lie in darkness as Spring approaches, birdsong at 5.30am a clear sign, as month marches closer to double digit dates, and I, somewhat booze-binged from night before, wait half-awake with aural static, tinnitus, for dynamism of daylight.
7ish Emerging, the far, light, side of night to a weekend’s start, wife still sleeping, words through brain seeping, creeping to unknown & invisible destination & culmnation, temporarily encased in electrons, held behind glass, until unleashed in ink on awaiting page, product of imagination, genius, or simple self-delusion. Such wordsmithing has been a while in coming, bubbling unbidden from unknown, lately unplumbed depths (or foolish shallows) to burst into unsuspecting daylit, still, brain, half-located in some other place or phase from sleep or solvent. Fed by Fish, fuelled by spirit, birthed so unexpectedly at day’s beginning. Saturday, even before coffee flows & as boiler sparks to send radiators into creaking life.”
Continue reading...
And then, after an unusually boozy night, words. Here seemed a good place to put them (as well as in the Journal).
“I lie in darkness as Spring approaches, birdsong at 5.30am a clear sign, as month marches closer to double digit dates, and I, somewhat booze-binged from night before, wait half-awake with aural static, tinnitus, for dynamism of daylight.
7ish Emerging, the far, light, side of night to a weekend’s start, wife still sleeping, words through brain seeping, creeping to unknown & invisible destination & culmnation, temporarily encased in electrons, held behind glass, until unleashed in ink on awaiting page, product of imagination, genius, or simple self-delusion. Such wordsmithing has been a while in coming, bubbling unbidden from unknown, lately unplumbed depths (or foolish shallows) to burst into unsuspecting daylit, still, brain, half-located in some other place or phase from sleep or solvent. Fed by Fish, fuelled by spirit, birthed so unexpectedly at day’s beginning. Saturday, even before coffee flows & as boiler sparks to send radiators into creaking life.”
Continue reading...
