SENSES
The following sensory diary was written after attending an Arvon Writing Workshop in the Summer of ‘93’. This proved to be a very productive period in my life, where I completed numerous short stories, poems and novellas. I am now re-visiting this early writing to see if it’s worth saving.
Rain
(a)When the rain hits the leaves they seem to twitch with either anticipation or excitement. The first few drops offer the most tantalising sight; thereafter the foliage becomes alive in a shaking, fibrillating frenzy. After the shower has passed, the greenery appears to be of a more intense colour as if the rain had washed away the dust or weariness of the day. Perhaps the rain is like richly scented cologne on naked green skin.
(b) Strong cold wind in the eyes, blurring my vision slightly, onion stings my
eyes.
Poplars - in the wind
As I was driving along the road I passed the city crematorium grounds on my right. There is a large, neatly manicured lawn that slopes down to the road, where children play and old men take there even older dogs for walks. On the top of this lawn stands a line of about ten or twelve poplar trees. When the wind passes through them they look like enormous ostrich feathers plunged into earthy inkwells, but what will they write and why. Are they Gods pens perhaps?
Sunsets - various
Now here is a topic that could occupy an eternity. Last night I observed one that was a real show stopper. I had just taken a walk around West port Lake with my beloved, Nadine *now ex-beloved* The sun was like the glowing end of a molten glass rod drawn through a pool of quicksilver. The after- glow was also beautiful. A sort of powder pink and blue, redolent of the very first blush of colour in a ripe nectarine or peach that mottles its velvet skin. The clouds were like gossamer-spun candy floss bruises. Another addition to the bunch, I witnessed a low level one this evening that reminded me of barley sugars or perhaps amber almost iridescent. Yet another one, this time a slit or nick in the clouds flesh-sunlight oozing through, narrow but bright. The clouds behind grey and dense. A slashed sack of Maize spilling out through the clouds. The sun ploughing a furrow through the clouds.
Heat Haze
Whilst walking up park hall hills today I saw the heat haze over towards Werrington. It looked as if the sky's' stockings had fallen down. The density of the haze was such that it reminded me of a cross between smoke and steam beautifully diffuse and fine.
Double - sided leaves
Some trees have leaves that are varnished green on one side and silvery grey on the other. This is especially noticeable when the wind moves them. The silvery colour is achieved by the presence of thousands of little hairs or papilla on the underside of the leaf reflected in sunlight. Possible title of poem could be "grey-haired trees".
Buttercups in fields
From a distance the buttercups seem to be in suspension, like frozen golden snow or yellow frog spawn. There green stems disappear in the emerald sea around them. The yellow petals blow like spume on a green sea. Possible title for a poem could be Yellow, or the colour of summer
Summer storms
luminescent glow of light. weight of swollen clouds pressing down. Eerie anticipation. First clap of thunder count the seconds to a flash. Headache, fear, Absence of nature’s vocal chords i.e. bird song etc.
A Day on my own
It’s funny sometimes, when you have a day by yourself, away from friend’s relations and loved ones. You don't necessarily have to go anywhere to be on your own though. Today I was not with anyone at all, I went to see a movie called "falling down'' starring Michael Douglas. It described a man literally falling down or to put it another way 'cracking up' under tremendous personal, economical, and physical pressure. It was filmed in Los Angeles - a multi-racial or cosmopolitan city gripped by social and moral decay. The main character confronts certain issues, namely racial, sexual, social etc. He is in a way the feeble spanner thrust into the machine. After seeing this social indictment I visited Pizza Hut and ate alone. I felt angry and sad all at once. The film had left its sad, sad dirty mark on me. I wonder what it takes to do the same?
FINE RAIN
Yesterday the rain fell like dew. Its descent was slow like snow, moving around like house dust in bright sunlight. It stuck to everything like a fine mist and was probably one step away from it. Possible title of poem could be "Dew fall".
ARVON
Cobweb bullet holes, possible title for poem could be ARACHNID MAFIOSO. Fleshy creases in hillsides where water has collected and run off to form streams. All pervading smell of peaches and plums. Preserving in general REDOLENT OF JAMMING. Absence of noise. Ravine, Deep heather producing purple pollen like gas. Steep climb up track gradient of at least one in three. Public house relaxed and friendly. HORSES BITING EACH OTHER. nibbling necks folding their heads together, the beginning of a knot. Cobbled teeth worn down possible title for poem could be Midnight Cobbles describing how the downtrodden cobbles come alive at night. Cats, relief from stress and springboard for the senses, proliferation in town. Past poems adorn the walls of Arvon possible title for poem could be Wallpaper doodling. Pauline Melville’s reading previous book called SHAPE SHIFTERS. Chimneys in the ravine were once silk factories they look like enormous worm castes. Spring water. Collective meals. Group members themselves reluctant to divulge any personal details at all, only glimpse into their psyche with pieces of poetry read out. Confiding in anybody may weaken their poetical armour. SLUGS as big as sausages. Bilberries miniature toffee apples. Midge’s airborne itching powder.
HEATHER
While walking the dog up Park hall hills I was confronted by an enormous sprawling birthmark of heather coloured deep purple. As I got closer the brightness intensified reminding me of new snow in bright sunlight. I also had that slightly nauseous and irritated feeling one associates with peeling onions. When I started to walk through the stuff I was surprised by how springy it was. The colour was wood pigeon-breast purple. the stems looked like bottle brushes. PURPLE FLIES on woody stems. Steep incline sinking nipple high damp underneath. Hiding rocks and other obstacles. Possible title for poem could be Heather blindness.
TELEVISION TEARS
Possible title for poem concerning my father who is upset by televisual emotions. Medal ceremonies, tributes to sportsmen. CLASSIC COMEDY. News reports etc. etc. Grieving for my sister who died four years ago.
SKYSCAPES
Just a few to be going on with. Milky blue sky when the clouds look partially dissolved in the blueness, a bit like milk in tea. The clouds were stippled white and grey across the ceiling of blue. Last night the moon was nestling in oily/singed clouds .Like a torch light shining through burnt muslin. The night sky was a lovely rich damson colour.
SEASON CHANGES- (growing old)
Whilst walking up the pine forest today I was seized with a feeling of sadness at the passing of the seasons. I suppose this mirrored my own self-denial of my age and fragile existence. There was also a dread of having achieved absolutely nothing and having contributed nothing to the world. Nadine looked lovely in a borrowed barber jacket from my mother. She complained of the cold wind causing her earache and pulled the high collar upwards to shield her ears. She also wore those high heeled bootees, and kept losing her footing on the uneven terrain. possible title for poem could be autumn’s pull.
CLOUDS
1. At sunset there appeared a sort of red powder haze over Longton. It was as if the Sun had beat a track towards the horizon sending up clouds of red dust as it went. Further away from the sun the clouds were at least four or five subtle shades of red. Like a small fire on a frozen lake viewed from below.
2. White clouds like spirals of dough stretched out across a blue table.
WATER ON THE LAND
1. Water running off the pine woods, leaving beautiful crescents of debris and pine needles (miniature dams)
2. Water on the land - adding a new dimension to nature, self-examination or looking glass.
3. Frozen run off water resembling glue paste or wallpaper paste.
4. Melting ice on lake made a half-squeaking-half-sighing sound. Boiled sweet appearance. (Whale Talk?)
5. Walking on the snow on hard ground reminded me of a creaking crepitation similar to arthritic bones. Frosty earth like the crust on a pie. Light snow like desiccated coconut.
6. This morning at George's *private patient, now deceased* I was struck by the appearance of the wallflowers and assorted vegetation in his back garden. It resembled threads pulled or tugged through a white cushion. On the way back through Hulme, the roads were flooded, and the recent lying snow was being washed away. The snow looks bluey white in the early dawn, almost minty. Its phosphorescent glow is quite beautiful.
7. Whilst driving in the car to I don't remember where there was a sudden fall of snow. Because the heater was directed at the windscreen the snow melted fairly quickly. It looked like tiny paw prints on the glass that exploded after a second or two. ''The snow lay there like a second chance''.
8. on a similar vein I remember watching the rain run down the window in my bedroom. The window looked as if it was bleeding or sweating with the water running down in vein like lines. The window bled rain.
9. Possible title for a poem or short story could be HAWK PRINT after the incident when I saw the perfectly reproduced print of a kestrel or sparrow hawk on the outside of the bedroom window. It only lasted a few days.
10. Whilst walking in the pine forest I noticed a wind torn branch. It stood out very clearly, green white against the dense pine trees.
11. Whilst driving home from Nadine’s the other night I saw a tiny crescent of Moon. It looked like a brass lock flap almost shut, just showing a sliver of light (the moon).
12. On the fields at the back of our house I saw a burned out car. The charred metal reminded me of old ladies eye shadow, like a bruise.
13. Whilst walking up the pine forest with Ma and Pa on Sunday I noticed the light invading the forest was like drips of paint running down a wall.
14. Reading Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy, we discussed a character called Sue Bridehead. She is a very mixed up person and is sexually and spiritually repressed. I coined a phrase to describe her saying that she was like a “PALETTE FOR THE EMOTIONS''.
15. Sadness personified by STANDING HORSES, facing each other at odd angles. they look so forlorn and unhappy.
16. Ideas for poems or stories as follows:
(a) THE ACME THUNDERER. Story about a boy who upsets guardsmen at the station by blowing his whistle at the wrong time, and at a football match to bamboozle the referee.
(b) Vagrants and street people - suitable title could be, faded smiles, faded lives. This struck me on a visit to Manchester the other day where the street people behaved like tired out toys with defective batteries.
(b)BOOK SHOP BLUES. whilst in "Waterstones'' in Manchester the other day I suffered terrible neck ache and hunger pains after spending nearly two hours in the shop. They should make provisions for Aroma therapists or Masseurs. Oh and at the very least a vending machine.
(c) Story about a very realistic baby doll in Farnborough, when the mother picked it up by its head and I was mortified, to say the least. I rushed over to her thinking that she was abusing her child.
SINKING IN THE BATH
On the outward train journey to London yesterday I had an idea about using an experience to illustrate the feelings of grief:
When you've finished taking a bath and your body is suitably relaxed try this simple exercise. Stay as still as possible and wind the plug chain round your big toe until the line is tort. Yank the plug out and flick it over the tap or bath tray, whichever is easiest. Then, just lie there and close your eyes while the water level recedes. As the water disappears your body becomes heavier and heavier. Your arms descend to the bottom of the bath, while the rest of you sinks lower and lower. It is a very odd feeling, particularly with eyes closed. Eventually, when all the water has gone you feel about three times as heavy as you should, your body is suctioned to the vitreous enamel or fibre glass bottom. A metaphor for grief perhaps? A lifetimes fall, into what?
Jewish Lady
On the return journey I met a Jewess. She suggested that I stretch out my legs on the aisle side of the table while she splayed hers around the table leg. I could see that I had drawn the short straw when all the hungry passengers strode towards the buffet car in the next carriage. I was forced to adopt a slow motion Cossack dance, drawing my legs in and out as the people passed. She had the most wonderful face and mannerisms. She reminded me of a Sawn-off Howard Jacobson, with the lugubrious eyes of Clement Freud. Her engagement ring was truly of planetary proportions, no so much catching the light but captivating it. Her voice had that wavering in-between key, as if her voice hadn't yet broke, with a slow deliberate cadence. I acted as translator for all the garbled in train announcements while she offered me the use of her Daily papers.
Train Movements.
As I looked through to the next carriage all the sideways movement seemed greatly exaggerated. It seemed impossible to remain seated, never mind attempt a trip to another part of the train.
Complexion
A face like a new apple, waxy and green
Murder Ideas
1. Using a kettle to kill someone, by filling it with some inflammable liquid like meths or acetone. Informing the relatives that it is defective and you keep replacing the fuses. Practicing at home with different substances to achieve the perfect, untraceable method.
George
Conversation used to illustrate his stubbornness and idleness:
George ----- "You know, these blue pants I put on this morning are cutting me in two''
Simon ---- Would you like me to get you a new pair, George?''
George ---- "No its all right I'll suffer.''
Grandmothers' quotes
Whilst watching my Grandmother having lunch with us she commented on how the picture of my Sister Samantha was crooked. This upset my mother. Old people dwell on death
Cats
When a cat is relaxed and sleepy you can mould it into any shape like a lump of clay, putty, or even plasticine.
Fields in winter
Up the hills (Park hall) I noticed that the clumps of grass were like the bristling angry ruffs on a dog’s neck.
