don't confuse the narrator

smoke gets in your eyes

Yesterday, when I commented that at this time of year the air is full of a mixture of mist, cloud and bonfire smoke, I forgot two other factors that fog the village skies.

First of all, many of the older houses in the area rely on log fires for heating and their chimneys are belching smoke before the sun is up.

Then there’s the smoke from cigarettes and cigars. When I moved to Spain, the smell of cigarette smoke shocked me; I’ve just found this in an article I wrote about Madrid nearly ten years ago:

[cigarette smoke] drapes itself around you like an over-friendly drunk in bars; it shares your table uninvited in restaurants

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At this time of year, all round the valley, everyone is busy pruning trees and vines and making the most of the dry weather for bonfires. The clouds, mist and smoke all blend and it’s impossible to tell which it is hanging in the still air.

Bonfire after pruning;
at nightfall, the green wood
is still singing

Después de la poda, una hoguera;
cuando cae la noche
la madera verde sigue su canto

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me, myself and I

Following on from the post I made earlier about first person dreams and narrators in poetry, I just came across an article in the Guardian with the headline: Christopher Walken: ‘No matter who I play, it’s me’.

Apparently, this was his reaction when asked if he’s playing slight variations on himself every time he makes a film:

“In one way, yes. No matter what character I’m playing, it’s me. I’m the only person in my life that I can refer to. I have a wife, I have friends, but it’s essentially me. There are actors who can transform themselves, famously so, but I’m not one of them. There’s a crucial difference between an actor and a performer. I’m essentially a performer. That’s where I came from. That’s what I know. That’s what I do.”

I’m not 100% sure how that ties in with the points I was making, but I do think it must be relevant.

first person dreaming

This morning I woke with a scene from a dream still vivid in my mind: in some kind of apocalyptic sci-fi/thriller setting, with explosions and dangerous pursuers (yes, I watch too much TV) I’d managed to do some neat programming trick and someone had asked me, “How did you know that? Were you brought up with technology?”

In response, I’d launched into a description of when and where I had learned about computers etc.
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recycled rubbish

I think it is Blaise Pascal who is credited with having first said, “I’d have written a shorter letter if only I’d had the time.” That’s pretty much the way I feel about blog posts, which always take far longer than is reasonable for their length and (lack of) content.

The previous post was probably one of the quickest I’ve ever written, partly, perhaps, because most of it was simply linking together old ideas. I was also in a hurry to post because I had to catch a bus.

Maybe if I’d had longer to think I’d have censored it. As it is, I fear I mildly shocked certain readers by ‘using language’.**
Continue reading “recycled rubbish”