that we always have to start from where we are

horsemouth was up later than usual (8am). he feels he deserves it. last night a meeting of the communal endeavour (conducted 50% on zoom, 50% real life. this was less of a problem than he thought it would be because people want to get to a solution).  after which horsemouth got a bag of chips on the way home and then a bottle of beer when he got in the door (he feels like he's earned it). he walked over ad he walked back (4 miles in total). 

it always reminds horsemouth of the following joke. 

there's a farmer in a field. a tourist walks up to him.

'morning'

'morning'

'I want to get to dublin.'

'HMMMM... well I wouldn't start from here...' 

obviously we always have to start from where we are (it is just that 'where we are' might not be the best possible place to start from). 

horsemouth is just listening to musicians of bremen volume four (it has been a while). 

we are in the midst of I will not go (great production work by howard). he's not convinced by the running order - he thinks amárach then wonky would have been better (fucking birds), then am I born to die? and blindspot (and then he'd probably have pagodas). he'd probably extend the wiggly record re-wind noises through am I born to die and stick some high wordless vocals on pagodas. amárach still rocks his world (he can't believe he was involved in making it). 

'nothing seems to be being said but the almost nothing there is in all words' (to quote marguerite duras)

ah well wisdom with hindsight again. 

langdon jones has died. editor of new worlds science fiction magazine, literary editor of mervyn peake, musician, early web adopter (judging by the background tiles on his website), creator of MIDI files for classical music. here's a song of michael moorcock's with him playing piano on it. coming soon the next instalment of the imaginos trilogy by albert bouchard (formerly of the blue oyster cult).  

horsemouth has finished reading marguerite duras's practicalities (la vie materielle in french). it ends like m.john harrison. for years marguerite had a serious drink problem, eventually she goes for the drying out treatment in a hospital and then back home. but her home is full of furniture she gave away years ago and hallucinated people she cannot recognise- they appear behind her carers when she opens the door to her room (like in it follows). it is not just that they are there, it is that they are obviously looking for some kind of emotional reaction from her, they are heartbroken that they are not recognised. 

her boyfriend  eventually succeeds in showing them out.