There is a certain circularity to these things. They bite you in the ass just as you’re wrestling the tail into the ground, so to speak. I recently had opportunity to be asked if I were a Muslim. Perhaps a little background would be helpful. I frequently comment and post in a left-wing feminist online group on Facebook – at times weekly, at times a dozen or more times a week, depending on the topics that come up and, often, how far afield the discussion has strayed into territories that touch on my areas of expertise and show no signs of understanding that feel like they need a little direction to help along without everyone getting confused. That, of course, is where this began.
what is it with #snow, anyway? everyone who lives where there is such a thing falling from the sky complains about it constantly. even in the summertime when it’s somewhat warmish. wait until the #snow comes. oh the #snow kept coming late this year. didn’t even get to go camping until july this year. was so cold. and places where it doesn’t #snow? they can’t get enough of it on vacation. people are odd. it was with this in mind that i got on the plane at heathrow, thinking i’ve seen plenty of #snow in my life for a dozen lifetimes but of course i have to be heading off to alaska. why, you ask? see, now there is an intelligent question. it could even be deemed smart if you thought there was going to be a sensible answer. mostly to freeze my ass off, i believe. i’d say balls but, well, girls seem to be lacking in that department. all the guys coming, though, they will be lacking in that area if they stay outside, anyway, so i don’t feel too bad. to see the #northern #lights. what is it with #light shows? a school trip? to the frozen #north? in america? what the actual fuck are they thinking about.
jumping from her chair as she heard the grating sound of metal upon metal, angela reached the window of her cottage on the south downs in time to see a vision that had only appeared possible as a theory in her mind, not something to happen in real life. there was perhaps one #train a day this far out from civilization, two at the most but never running at even similar times. the collision between two, one obviously a passenger #train and the other a flaming mess of burning liquid, was something that she could not understand, believing her eyes or not. running through the door into the snow hanging limp in the air, she called out to her sister without even thinking that she had left for the weekend and could certainly not hear her from her hostel in amsterdam. angela pounded one step after another in the direction of the flames, #fire pouring high into the darkening sky. how could this have happened? there is not another cottage for #miles. by the time anyone else sees the #smoke or expects the #trains to arrive, it will be too late for the passengers.
#birth happened. that’s all i can say about it reliably. i know nothing else. it wasn’t until almost ten minutes later that i realized that i wasn’t in a hospital. it was either the pain or the joy. i hope it was the joy. it was the pain. i was told once that nothing hurts more than a paper cut. if i could invite the person who shared that insight with me to give #birth to a four-pound #child surrounded by the comfort of a newly-vacated first-class lounger on a #transatlantic redeye, without the benefit of either doctor or medication, i would do so. i shall leave it at that, however. the remaining two hours of the #flight into frankfurt were as uneventful as one can imagine the first two hours of life would be, surrounded by a crowd of apathetic strangers in a flying cigar, pressurized to the point of crushing the bones in a newly-formed skull. simply put, it was loud. quiet in comparison but mindlessly vibrant in the moment.
so, in a #world before #smart, there was this #swan who gave birth and #completely didn’t #notice. in that same #world, there was a #duck, curiously enough, giving birth in the same lake at the same time. can you #imagine the noise that was to be heard that morning with the honking and quacking and the father birds trying desperately not to get seen edging away in search of television sets and motoring magazines? i assure you, there were feathers to be seen flying and water churned to near boiling #point. that being said, six ##ducklings and seven #signets entered the #world that day, almost as wet and sticky as the day they were conceived. this, of course, being a #world before #smart, is a #world without counting. we shall ignore those numbers in exactly the same manner as their mothers.
Truth is overrated. Take her for example. She’s always here but we speak only in meaningless rhetorical questions. Continue Reading…
People fall into your life. Not metaphysically, they really fall. The last bus to Fallowfield is curiously late. Only three minutes, but that’s enough to notice when it’s nigh on 0100. I’m mid-sentence when the phone in my hand is replaced by Lisa’s left arm. The crashing of the phone gets lost as I am tackled across the aisle, somewhat unintentionally, by a half-conscious girl. Continue Reading…
right, so i’m not exactly the most prodemocratic of thinkers at the best of times but i am constantly asked about the possibility of scotland’s independence from the union. here are the three answers that i should give you if you have time…
echoes of selves.
[ or ]
history through eyes of glass.
a thousand words or more.
the politics of a photography of absence.