'Neath the Downs

Long after the last echoes of their footsteps have faded will we still linger here. We who were here first; long ago, treading softly in the dark places. Before they arrived, with their burning lights and searing noise. And we retreated from them. Our kind could never last long. We’re too easy to destroy. Deeper and deeper we go now, as still they come on. Relentless in their thirst to reach a frontier. But frontiers are forever shifting. Forever being pushed further. But on this one will we wait. We know how to mark time. We have marked since the beginning of time. And we know that one day they will come no further. One day the frontier will be just that. Then slowly will they retreat as we reclaim what is ours. Their ropes and ladders and bolts and tackle will be removed, and we will climb up after them. We need no ropes. We who built this place.

Then will we erase all trace of them, until once more the underworld is ours, and only the dark floods the recesses of the earth.

What's to Smile About?

Ever have those days when you just, inexplicably, feel good? Please say yes. Then I can continue this blog by saying, me too! And yes. Today is one of those days. I've been having a few of them recently. Had a friend ask what I was on when I showed up at his house a couple weeks ago, bouncing off the walls. And seriously Matthew, I wasn't hopped up on anything. And then tonight. I should be halfway to dead by now, but instead I'm still wired. Had a very long, very frustrating day at work, then only an hour and a half at home before heading back out. And I'd had the bright idea that since I hadn't had time for a training run, and yes, I have begun training for my marathon, that I would run to Barton for swing dancing class. A 3.3 mile run that ended up being 4, 'cause I missed a turn and had to run nearly around Barton, rather than simply to it. With a backpack on no less. But then, instead of being exhausted going into dancing, I was strangely wired. And I do realize I'm abusing the hell out of the comma in this, you don't need to go pointing it out. So yeah, I couldn't stop bouncing around tonight, which, coincidentally, is a very good thing at swing dancing class. Points for style you see. Which is what I was complimented on. I just said I was in a good mood.

Don't know why.

There's a Ladybug on my Laptop

And as I sit here, I can hear the strains of a violin floating down from upstairs. My housemate finally brought her violin from home, and this is the first time I've heard her play. Might go sit on the stairs and listen for a while. Always nice to think you're good at something, as I often do. 'Oh yeah, I can play Amelie and Konstantine on the piano, I must be good.' How nice it would be to actually be good. Like the music I'm hearing now. I don't know if they're classical pieces she's playing, or scale exercises, or just the violining equivalent of 'flowing.' But I feel I need to go practice piano now. I'm ashamed of my comparative lack of talent. Maybe one day, one day I can aspire to a duet.

I hope Ali doesn't read this.

Enduring Love

I heard a story today, first hand, about a girl who finished school and went to work as a clerk in the summer of 1940. And very soon after, she was invited to the cinema by a young man who worked across the office. This was August. At the end of September that young man shipped out from Northern Ireland for training in England for the Royal Air Force. A year later they saw each other again briefly when he returned on embarkation leave, before being deployed to north Africa for the duration of the war. 'Course, she didn't know at the time where he was bound. Only found out when he hailed a friend from his ship in a harbour in Sierra Leone en route, and asked this friend to deliver a message to the girl's father, a police officer in the country. Who then passed the news on. As you would. The two, the girl and the young man, then corresponded, he from RAF bases across Africa, her from radar stations along the British coast, for the next four years. Correspondence at the time meaning censored postcards delivered back and forth through the military.

Then somehow, after four years apart, he phones her up one autumn day in 1945 to say he's just arrived home, to England. And she spends the rest of the night crying in a bar.

They were married the following Spring. Herbert and Eileen Wilson. My grandparents.

Now, call me a hopeless romantic, but that's lovely...

Same Mistake Twice

Ever had to watch someone do something you know will hurt them in the long run, yet still there's nothing you can do about it? Simply hold your peace, for they probably know in the back of their minds it's the wrong thing, but aren't yet able to admit it to themselves. Or you keep quiet, because at one time long ago you were in the same situation, and made the same mistakes. Only a fool learns from his own mistakes, a wise man from the mistakes of others. Yeah. Maybe so. Well then call us all fools, for the lesson never seems quite relevant 'til it's applied to our own pain. Am I holding my peace now? Maybe. In truth, I'm not even sure what I'm talking about. And if I were, I wouldn't admit it.

So it goes.

Resolvent

Right. I have two New Year's Resolutions. Only two because the other things I could potentially resolve to do, I'm already doing, so it'd be hollow, or the others I realize now there's no way I'll ever be committed enough to achieve them. Thus am I fulfilling the first of my resolutions right now, by writing more. Vague yes, but I don't want to limit myself to blogging more, or writing more songs, or fiction, or letters, or hate mail. Thus I shall simply write more and generally. And then I'll have these works in the future to remind myself who I am, what I do, and why. And the second resolution I'm belatedly making is to do everything in earnest. I started saying that about things, 'When I get back, I'll began training in earnest,' or 'fundraising in earnest,' or 'figuring out what I'll do with the rest of my life in earnest.' Then after saying it so many times, I started to convince myself. So now I feel like I really should do all things in earnest. But not earnestly. I'd prefer to be in earnest.

Earnest is a funny word.