One million elephants couldn't begin to understand » 2016 » July

Archive for July, 2016

Sunday, July 31st, 2016

 

This was just a run through and next time it will be the same
It was a portrait taken as a silhouette with the new opera house in the background at twilight

Saturday, July 30th, 2016

 

We think in hindsight that forward thinking would have been a good idea
A light lunch and a good supper is the way to a better body

Friday, July 29th, 2016

 

We think the hills might be alive
There is a break due a little later so that would be a window
Pop in for a chat when you have a moment
We think it’s something to do with faulty electrics but whatever

Thursday, July 28th, 2016

 

This could be a rehearsal for the real thing
Be merry, Doctor Sam, for Time is reluctant to give you anything back
We think a way to tackle the problem is to run away

Wednesday, July 27th, 2016

 

Sun filters through the webbing overhead
We think existence is a combination of defeat and resignation

Tuesday, July 26th, 2016

 

The Karelia Suite was intentionally rough-hewn: the plan was not
to dazzle (art does not have to dazzle, only amaze) with technique
but to capture the quality of folk-based authenticity.

Monday, July 25th, 2016

 

I send you things
and you send them back
it’s kind of a see-saw
I’m up one moment
then down
and it’s the same for you

Sunday, July 24th, 2016

 

The entire corpus of existing literature should be regarded as a limbo from which discerning authors could draw their characters as required, creating only when they failed to find a suitable existing puppet. The modern novel should be largely a work of reference. Most authors spend their time saying what has been said before – usually said much better. A wealth of references to existing works would acquaint the reader instantaneously with the nature of each character, would obviate tiresome explanations and would effectively preclude mountebanks, upstarts, thimbleriggers and persons of inferior education from an understanding of contemporary literature.
– That is all my bum, said Brinsley.

from At Swim-Two-Birds, Flann O’Brien, 1939

Saturday, July 23rd, 2016

 

and from out the back of the wardrobe
I pulled a disguise I didn’t recognize

Friday, July 22nd, 2016

 

Some of these islands have names
and some of them are just lumps of rock not worth naming