from dry to wet one thing

the sun is shining right now, about an hour and half ago i was sitting in the kitchen with spski, back door open, sun shining then too.

it started to rain, i was looking at the concrete immediately outside the backdoor, each spot of rain making it's mark. first one sheet, then another, filling in the gaps, then another, after maybe a minute it was a wet piece of concrete, but the transition from dry to wet.... heavenly, this weather, oscillating from sunny to showers and back again, will be creating this same effect @ billions of points throughout this city today.

after awhile all the men of the house were in the kitchen: me, spski, cedric nash, edge, new S, discussing the great storm of 1987 amongst other things.

cedric nash had told me that there was nothing more important happening in the world than my observation of the dry / wet concrete at that moment... cedric nash sure is a sweetie. this is a blessed time these 9 days or so that we have him here, before he goes out into the world again.

i was turfed out of bed at an ungodly hour today, found it hard / impossible to raise a smile as i left there. wandered through brockwell park looking for sunshine and a tea, neither were particularly forthcoming. walked into brixton, too early for my favourite bookshop, too early for most things it seemed, except for the workers cafe in the market. tea and 2 white toast, perfection. read a little of sleeping where i fall, brought tears to my eyes, although on this little sleep my barriers are down...

harbour walls still at that impasse after the rilke cutup, music for bash coming on, need to really grab hold of that jazz 3 rhythm, find a way to express it with thepiano without doing too much, possibility of putting a touch of percussion in there. thinking of brushes and hihats. playing in the theatre itself, in my mind, proving another potent creative space, came up with another riff for bash in that way yesterday...

& skyla came round yesterday, gonna gig with her and her outfit around the start of september, nice, easy enough to groove on, i guess i'm liking the idea of being the outsider in that situation.

so E, told her cedric's name for her, blind brixton E, she liked it i think. she needs i give. good for me the rude awakening, closing experience of the night being that, understandable as it all is, rooted in the same deal, not ashamed of us, but wanting to hide us away. flooded in 15 minutes back in april, still putting it all back together again. lying awake listening to the huge rain, knowing what it means to her, damp, midway through works, more delays.

and me today, could have just stayed home and been more able to deal with the world today, but actually, even with my grumpy morning, it was a lovely night, it's not all giving, i am nourished by it too... but it certainly seems exceedingly of the moment, temporary as that 15 minute flooding, i hust hope i don't spend months cleaning myself up again... i won't though, just looking for poetry...

the spanish trilogy speaking to me about my difficulties with harbour walls.

just one thing lord, from me and from these hills, and from me, and from strangers - for i know noone here lord...

one thing

x