‘the fecundity of the unexpected far exceeds the statesman’s prudence’

listening to this (a kind of modern robbie basho instrumental)
 


hopefully horsemouth has just done the months bureaucracies. looks like they are paying him anyway for the month’s work in the month where he actually did it - instead of waiting 7 weeks to see his money - this merely means if his poverty is relieved a month early now it will be brought forward by a month in the coming summer. in exchange for this benificence he now has to do his own spreadsheeting - in any event horsemouth is uncertain how future government dicking around with his sector will affect him - he assumes he’s on borrowed time.

last night he met up with denise and darsavini/eve - it was good to see them situations and old friends were discussed - d/eve wanted to make sure she had heard horsemouth correctly that capitalism would not fall (it survived 2008 didn’t it? - and all it did was beat the so-called lost value out of the workforce, the workforce did not beat the lost value of their labour out of capital, despite people’s hopes to the contrary).

‘in that town across the water 
 where the dead take the census’

horsemouth has been buying books, this poem fragment from john berger’s landscapes, and this from an automated tape on a bus;

 ‘please move down inside the bus 
so we can continue our journey’ .

he also bought john cowper powys’s the art of growing old (three squid calder theatre bookshop, the cut) and another three squider whose name temporarily escapes him. he has discovered a copy of austro-marxist ernst fischer’s the necessity of art hidden in the stacks (presumably the result of a book buying incident many moons ago).

‘we are forced back to offering visions’

so john berger remarks of ernst fischer's concerns. fischer ended his days living in a workers appartment in vienna - but it wasn’t a conducive environment to write in so he would spend long holidays in the country at friends houses or guest houses. it was on a trip to view a new one of these, with berger, that he died.

‘I have kept only the images that enthrall me 
(without knowing why).’

remarks roland barthes of his own choice of photos. (this is strange because berger compliments him on having a pleasure that knows what it wants.

horsemouth (the bodger, the temporiser) has completed another week of work and now prepares to fart about a bit. last night he watched pasolini’s the decameron, the night before robert bresson’s mouchette - small town girl lives miserable existence - it starts with quail caught in snares (this is the whole of the movie in microcosm).

saturday he met up with howard - they hid in the murder mile and drank.