the blank page

So many ideas tangled together.

Try and track them as they bifurcate, diverge… Others interrupt, approaching from a different, contradictory perspective. Some are brighter, some less so. Some are more established, carry more weight; others taper into nothing. Impossible to keep track of all of them.

So many thoughts and ideas. So many blank pages.

street sign covered in snow

habits

Humans are creatures of habit. And yet it sometimes seems very difficult to build a new habit into our lives, even when we know that it’s a good thing to do or the results will be beneficial. Maybe it’s a medicine that needs to be taken at a specific time of day, a morning exercise routine that we know will ease our aching back and bring long-term relief, or a regular phone call or email to a distant relation that only takes us a few minutes and brings them genuine pleasure.

None of these things are exactly difficult or onerous, but until the habit is formed, it’s very, very easy to forget.
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words, words, words

Usually when I go somewhere different, I come back with lots of photographs I can use on the blog.

lights and reflections

This weekend, though, I have been away at a conference. I took very few photos, but have returned with my mind awash with words.
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spoiled for choice

Once more, I am selecting a set of poems to read at an upcoming event. once more, the organiser wants to know in advance what to expect. Once more, I am dithering over making a decision.

When I was first invited to read, I leapt at the chance and didn’t give a moment’s thought to whether I would find something suitable. But there is a theme: the pieces should be humorous. And humour is a very subjective matter.

So I’ve been leafing through papers and notebooks, scrolling through documents, and re-visiting lots of old poems to see what I can find. Although very little of it is laugh-out-loud funny, the more I look, the more pieces I find that might be suitable.
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angles

Camera in hand
she walks the beach, pauses,
leans agains palm trees,
clambers over breakwaters,
climbs on railings and balances
on benches along the promenade, trying
to get an angle on the sunrise.

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too much information

I said yesterday, not for the first time, that I’m not writing as much as I used to. I still jot down notes on scraps of paper or in notebooks, but I don’t seem to sit over them and nag at them like I did.

I used to find train and bus journeys a perfect opportunity to stare out of the window for inspiration, to worry at words, sketching out alternatives, scratching out false starts, mentally running through phonemes trying to find a rhyme or a word or phrase with just the right shape and sound.
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bugs and plants

Some readers have noticed that I haven’t been quite as constant, nor, perhaps, as committed to the blog over the last few weeks; I’ll admit that there have been things going on that have distracted me, but hope these are now mostly settling down and I will be able to re-focus.

It might seem likely that not posting as often would mean that when I did eventually sit down to write I’d be brimming with ideas.
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