later today a meeting on zoom

hyperion goes well (p.172 and about to get into the third tale. he's done the priest's tale and the soldier's tale. he suspects that bookpilled has reviewed it). 

later today a meeting on zoom. the government social housing decarbonisation fund is open for business. horsemouth spent a little time looking at what the government regard as value for money in this sector and so would be willing to pay for/ match fund (and the answer is not a lot). horsemouth has borrowed ian's laptop from upstairs for the purpose. he's here with his coffee (as he often tells you). when he's done blogging etc. he will have a look. 

retrofitting britain's old, leaky social housing stock, insulating it to make it easier to heat (to the 90kwh/ m2 year standard) is a tough job. hitting the government's decarbonisation targets for social housing will be hard too, but there is at least plenty of time. 

horsemouth published his books, films, gigs, events list for september 2022 yesterday and we could probably look at that as a reading diary. he has left the events part blank for reasons that aren't entirely clear to him. 

hyperion (dan simmons in the SF masterworks series) goes well (as he has said). some combined reading/ watching of paul bowles/ marguerite duras which he supposes fits into a life writing kind of framework (he supposes even hyperion does as a collection of people's tales). the paul auster was a side project of this. the films are probably divisible into the horrors of s hammerish persuasion (dr. phibes rises again, the uncanny,the raven), two japanese tales (woman of the dunes,  ghost story of the snow woman) and two (more straight ahead) thrillers (the driver, assault on precinct 13). 

some photos have emerged of horsemouth playing with robert lee at ayesha and hannah's party (thanks ayesha) - horsemouth wishes that he had put more effort (or indeed any effort)  into preparing for the gig (but it went ok). later rob did an amazing karaoke  piano set which got people up and dancing. 

the binmen have been (or are being). horsemouth has finished the coffee - it's probably time to start getting on with the business of the day. 

books, films, gigs, events september 2022

films

- LRB growth/degrowth and hoarding pieces

- hp lovecraft documentary

- the incredibles

- the humanity  bureau (nicholas cage dystopia etc.)

- duras (south bank show)

- bowles (biography)

- the driver (walter hill)

- jlg/ anna karina doc.

- the raven (edgar allen poe - peter lorre)

- assault on precinct 13 (john carpenter)

- the woman in the dunes

- outlaw bookseller, thrift a life/ book pilled (including bookpilled's review of 'the woman in the dunes')

- dr. phibes rises again (1972)

- the uncanny (montreal set portmanteau horror movie)

- hawkbinge (on choose your masques) and radio interview with hawkbinge founder.

- ghost story of the snow woman 

books

- seeing (jose saramago)

- ethics of life writing 

- two years beside the strait (paul bowles)

- practicalities and the lover by marguerite duras plus an attempt to read black hair, blue eyes by her

- outside the gate: st.botolph's and adgate 950-1994, malcolm johnson (eclesiastical history of the aldgate area)

- hyperion (dan simmons) in the SF masterworks series

- various LRB/ NLR blogs

- adam roberts introduction to cryptozoic! by brian aldiss

- some paul auster autobiography stuff online 

- here (1989) richard mcguire, voyage book 2 (valetine amreux)

gigs

alistair roberts and jacken elswyth

the deerheads have vanished

well the deerheads have vanished (were they just a bad dream?). there's some deer hair stuck to the counter top (so horsemouth didn't imagine it).

horsemouth is back from a rare visit to the centre of town (soho in fact - which was buzzing).  he did get quite drunk but he thinks he managed to hold it together with a fair amount of decorum.  he's feeling a bit slow this morning so he suspects this will be a short post. there's beautiful sunlight (but the air feels quite cold). 

he's waiting to see if his brain will come back. fortunately there doesn't seem to have been much of a hangover. he remembers having a great falafel wrap (as he walked back from bethnal green). 

he may do his books read, films watched list for the month a day early. 

a leaf twitched (pound hits 37 year low against the dollar)

'ah capitalism it was all doing so well after 2008 - barely a ripple of discontent - but then a leaf twitched and the tide went such a very long way out...'

horsemouth is up and he has had a smidgeon of coffee. 

the sun has made it up over the houses opposite. in a little while it will make it over the front steps to the house above and shine down into  horsemouth's basement room. horsemouth has a cup of coffee. today horsemouth goes to visit an old friend (and will probably meetup with some more old friends in the evening). 

he's started reading dan simmons's hyperion whch goes well so far (front of house book potlatch - free). he also picked up an unread copy of the FT weekend (presumably unread because the news is so depressing pound hits 37 year low against the dollar). 

yesterday blood pressure test (practically perfect said the nurse, horsemouth wishes he could actually remember the figures) and some blood taken (horsemouth gets the results in about a week  - they'll contact him if there's anything serious), height/ weight - body mass index (within acceptable limits). there was this and the poo horsemouth sent off to the medical labs (no cause for concern). horsemouth moves into an increasingly medicalised old age.

the re-arranged health check meant cutting short the walk with TG (hopefully they can re-arrange it for later in the week). 

the labour party repositions itself as new labour reborn and sings god save our gracious king. is it just horsemouth or do wes streeting and keir starmer actually resemble beavis and butthead? 

yesterday horsemouth failed to get on with any reading or insulating work. he'll check his email in a bit to see if things are back on. 

the hunter is back from the hills. sten is back from scotland (maybe) and the bath contains three deer heads. there's the odd bloodsplatter on the floor and some deer hair on the worktops. 

on the short ministerial career of kwasi kwarteng (an object lesson in the infallibility of markets)

a friend is flying in from the states (it will be good to see them after so long). 

now unless they changed their money very early (horsemouth hates to mention this) they will be 10% richer during their time here because of the 10% fall in the value of the  pound against the dollar. and because various things essential to the running of the economy are priced in dollars (oil for example, necessary for cars to move about, for lorries to move about and for the delivery of just about anything to everywhere( this itself is an inflationary pressure hardbaking that inflation into the economy and leading to interest rates staying higher for longer making it more expensive for actual capitalists to raise capital to invest in things (businesses that might make things for example).

so far so capitalism 101. 

on the other hand if you've made your money elsewhere and are merely spending it here everything will be cheap as chips.

inflation, as a character in a hans falada novel says, is the way they rob you of the value of the money in your pocket without touching the money or the pocket. for people with savings or with fixed incomes it is bad news. 

on the other hand if you are a worker you can strike for a wage rise in the teeth of the repressive legislation coming in..

what then goes on is a battle between the workers and the rich for who gets to keep the benefits of such production as still occurs. for the rest of the populace (excluding the rich) it is bad news - their money is taken off them in energy price rises, inflation in the cost of food and (later) tax rises for them to pay down government debt (and cuts in services disproportionately used by the poor. however at a certain point you get into CAN'T PAY - the people just can't pay, you get a collapse of demand. 

workers power had a slogan about the anarchy of the capitalist markets (and they weren't wrong). 

horsemouth cannot help but feel a little sorry for truss and kwarteng - they thought they were doing what the infallible markets wanted (but it has turned out not so). in their eagerness to please they have stumbled upon their entrance. the infallible markets have ruled them bad ponies and demanded to see the adult in charge. .

horsemouth does not totally believe the markets either, he just thinks they have seen the opportunity for a little light looting and taken it. 

for truss and kwarteng it is a difficult situation to come back from (and in any event the damage, if not all of the damage, has been done). the party has been had (now all that remains is to tidy up (and pay for it)).

horsemouth apologises  - he had james cleverley (foreign minister) and kwasi kwarteng (chancellor of the exchequer) confused (presumably on the basis they're black dudes and tories. he apologises, they're new(ish) in their jobs, but still he should know better. how can you trust his judgement on these matters when he can't keep the facts straight?

--------------

today a grey cold morning (after the beauties of yesterday). probably a walk with TG later. maybe a medical appointment later on. 

yesterday horsemouth got to read various documents about various decarbonisation and  energy saving schemes and to attempt to write about them (he got to feel useful ad smart). in the evening assault on precinct 13 ('nobody said anything about a cholo'). horsemouth will now check his emails and see where he is. 

 

the future always happens now ('from the beginnings of autumn to the end of winter')

'the future always happens now... the future always happens in our imaginations, and our imaginations run on now-time.' - adam roberts in the introduction to cryptozoic!  by brian aldiss.

yesterday horsemouth was feeling surprisingly jaded (after having so much fun) but he cheered up in the evening after a phonecall with his mum (battling the usual difficulties with getting doctor's appointments etc. and cheering on plucky liz truss). he also was messaged by enza (on  some co-op stuff) and read some co-op related documents. being allowed to demonstrate competence cheered him up. 

it's a monday morning horsemouth faces a relaunched week. later possibly a wander with TG. 

'from the beginnings of autumn to the end of winter'

it is time to admit the changes of gearing in the seasons and to watch the old mechanical clock of the heavens creak into action. 

the autumn equinox is past and we move on towards halloween (and the celtic quarter day of samhain) and the winter solstice. the general trend is that things will be colder and wetter. 

horsemouth has a health check tuesday. a friend is visiting wednesday, there''s a possible party saturday. two weekends time he's away to a housing conference to find out about using government money (from the social housing decarbonisation fund) to insulating houses and reduce the fuel bills of the members (or more likely just to enable them to be able to afford to heat their homes over winter). 

some sun shines in  horsemouth's window. (the sun has made it over the houses at the end of horsemouth's street). increasingly the sun will spend less time in the back garden. the decking will become damp and slippery. the growth of the plants (weeds mostly but not without their charm) will halt and roll back. 

he has stuff to be getting on with (but does he have enough stuff). the music has become a bit slow - he underprepared for saturday (he now realises) - he should get back and active.  

what a difference a day makes

horsemouth is back with you (but in more cheerful mood) having been out to a birthday party at hannah and ayesha's.  he's slightly hung over but at least he had a good time to justify it. 

it was a day of many joys.

first a coffee and a chance to meet the kittens with enza followed by a walk through victoria park. 

second a gig (alistair roberts and jacken elswyth) with myk.

and finally a party with hannah and ayesha (and rob and emma and rose, and zoe and nick DD and dawn and lots of people who could sing). horsemouth attempted a number of his things (with rob on piano leading proceedings) but only really the werewolf landed. thereafter other people sang (south african stuff, the beatles, 80ies, disco) and horsemouth tried to sneak in some backing vocals and some clapping and stomping (as is his wont). 

eventually it all wound down.

skeuomorph (skeuomorphism)  was the lesson of the party -  the design concept of making items resemble their real-world counterparts - e.g. the trash can icon on your computer, or the save icon (of a floppy disc with now no longer exists as a real world item) and in this way our world becomes littered with remnants of dead technologies. 

so excepting the (mild) headache horsemouth is a happy bunny (doubtless it won't take long for him to become anxious again). 

equinox past

horsemouth is up. the autumn equinox has been and gone.

today a plan to go for a walk in vicky park (a lot of sticky k's right there). he's waiting for his respondent to get up. afternoon a gig (maybe). this evening a party maybe. 

horsemouth rolls towards the end of the year. frankly he's just as knackered as if he'd worked it. look at him now - he's up with the binmen (hail binmen) because of anxiety and such like. there is however nothing that horsemouth can do - he just has to work at other things to keep him distracted until the necessary vote can be taken.

see this was the great advantage of work - it got him out of the house and (at least while he was working) he couldn't think about his other shit. 

horsemouth was doing some bargaining with himself. 

what if horsemouth's grand scheme doesn't come off? how will he feel then?

horsemouth is in a housing co-op. together they'll have rolled the rock up the hill past two houses, one of which was sold to house more people in flats, another house and a flat out in east ham/ plaistow, more flats replacing hard-to-let houses with a very slight increase in number of people housed..

he could stop it there really and shift his attention on to getting the remaining houses insulated as he gradually steps back from a frankly massively unrewarding task. 

if horsemouth's great scheme does come off (and it involves taking on debt in a time of rising interest rates) more people will be housed out of the great wreck of short-life but it isn't the kind of housing they want particularly. 

horsemouth has let the tension get to him (he admits it). (here he is rehearsing arguments in his head).

ok the coffee tasted good horsemouth is going to get on with having a plan (and then off into the day for the busy social whirl).

in the evening

the evenings pass quickly for horsemouth. one moment it is five to six and horsemouth is wondering what to do with himself (and contemplating watching the news), the next it is 10.30pm and horsemouth has the duvet up over his chin and is contemplating 'going to bed'.  by 'going to bed' he means giving up on watching youtube and attempting to read and such like and actually going to sleep instead (the purpose for which beds were invented). .

then he will turn out the bedside light. move the pillows from the corner of the bed where they are used to support him sitting up so he can read into the middle of the bed so they can support his weary head while he sleeps. 

this part of the day tends to get neglected. in the morning horsemouth blogs (so of course he tells you about his mornings because the material is at hand). the evenings are much alike because they are a planned decline into inactivity and sleep. there may be a bit of tv upstairs in the living room if there's a film on. 

cooking and eating has assumed more importance with horsemouth since the pandemic - when he couldn't just go out and get a loaf of bread or a bag of chips without fearing death. last night horsemouth ate some pasta that he cooked using the last of the courgettes (than you godly charity dudes) and the remainder of the chili myk gave him from the allotment (cheers dude), the onion was from horsemouth's father (thank you dad), the kidney beans, chopped tomatoes, pasta and quorn mince from aldi (thank you aldipersons).  

horsemouth tries to avoid tea after 6pm in the evening. coffee he only has in the morning (unless he is going to a meeting or something). he tries to eat early (he believes it gives your body a better chance to burn off the food and so it is less likely to be stored as fat).  

the curtains horsemouth draws closed when it goes dark (or when he remembers).  there is a street light just outside his bedroom window so the curtains have to be drawn to avoid disturbing his sleep (and similarly to avoid him being woken up by the dawn's early light  in the months when that happens at an ungodly hour). . 

before sleep (and while hunting around on youtube) horsemouth found a few clips from the karen dalton documentary including one of nick cave praising something's on your mind by karen dalton as 'perfect'.  there is another version of the song by her that attempts to take it in a pop single direction and it's worth checking out precisely to convince yourself of the perfection of the main take, the one we know. 

yesterday NHSs and electricians - today more electricians. outside it is rainy and grey. 

there are of course a parallels between marguerite duras and karen dalton, both were exceptionally beautiful in their youth, a beauty later ravaged by harsh lives, both were alcoholics.  the surviving footage of karen from a french documentary features her at home. duras focuses on the domestic and on writing (these are the elements horsemouth finds most interesting in her work). 

fuck me it's barely 9am and already horsemouth has fucked the day. (congratulations horsemouth).

there's an electrician supposed to be coming round but horsemouth has missed his calls and now he has run out of credit to send a 'ring me back' message. horsemouth should probably think about putting more credit on his phone.

ok no he tells a lie they are here. (phew - horsemouth hates to let people down he just feels like a failure). 

last night two pints of beer post meeting of the co-op. (horsemouth would have gone for a third but that's because he's an idiot). this is possibly why he was up late - he was sleeping the sleep of the content (bag of chips on the way back). 

well the bad days have come (just as horsemouth always said they  would) with the handback of  pretty much all the remaining short life. fortunately the increasing the amount of co-op owned is in hand but the timing is not right (it never would have been right). 

and on the other hand it is good times - the sun seems to have turned on in horsemouth's heaven (but he is still full of a cold anxiety that he can't seem to shake). he has two parties and a gig (to go to) coming up and a friend is visiting town. 

having left the electricians busy at work he went down the doctors to book in a blood-pressure test and ended up booked into the NHS standardised tests and getting his fu jab there and then. 

today horsemouth will mostly sit about and read. 

a sorry collection of murders (under the sign of the hot water bottle)

horsemouth is back to an earlier time of getting up. 

the girl with the motorcycle has returned. the couple with the kid from two doors up are loading him into the car (together with granny looks like). those thin fleece jackets are popular (woman walking past). soon the neighbours doing the school/ nursery run.

later tonight a meeting (7pm). earlier a visit from  the electrician (probably). daryll has moved a ton (probably literally) of his stuff out (the junk room looks forlorn without it). horsemouth was most impressed by the efficiency of the operation on the one hand and by its inefficiency on the other (lots of dudes standing around waiting). 

horsemouth has mostly been reading the lover  (by marguerite duras - this being a novel of the type, thinly disguised autobiography). he has a few pages to go. she wrote another novel about the same events the north china lover (but it is much less famous). he's sure he had some other boos by her round here.

he was reading her a lot a year ago too. he reads her a lot . his reading has slowed down of late. but on the other hand he diarises and blogs a lot (it's his favourite part of the day). he takes inspiration from her  practicalities (and from primo levi's christ stopped at eboli) - both accounts of everyday life.

last night he watched dr.phibes has risen again. its pleasure is that it is an art deco jazz age grand guignol, the trailer is just a sorry collection of murders. horsemouth saw the trailer in the caerphilly castle cinema as a child, it scared and fascinated him. later (but still a child) he read a horror magazine with an account of the plot of the first dr.phibes movie (perhaps it was the same one that contained the photo story novelisation of hammer horror's frankenstein). hell he even saw some vampira comics ('mas caliente' as the granny in the valencia flea market put it). a few nights ago he watched the amicus-styled portmanteau horror the uncanny (spoiler: cats rule the world against them even peter cushing has no chance). 

dr. phibes is of course similar to dr.who. in that there is a magician and a (much younger) glamourous assistant. it is a magic show (except that each 'trick' is a gruesome murder).  

we are rolling (as a planet) towards the equinox (when the days and nights are of nearly equal length). the season of  autumn begins in earnest for us in the northern hemisphere, the days become shorter, the nights become longer, the summer heat leaves the system radiating off into space and, at the winter solstice, we enter the season of winter. 

horsemouth hopes they will be mild seasons (because he cannot afford to heat the house). this winter will be conducted under the sign of  the hot water bottle (such are the kindnesses of our rulers).. 

ok no electrician today (electrician tomorrow). meeting this evening 

sunrise 06:41 sunset 19:06 (coming soon equinox)

'one day, if I live to be very old, I'l stop writing.' - marguerite duras, practicalities. 

well in a way no. she kept going right until the very end (like gide). bunin wrote only hours before his death (contemplating it). colette managed to stop (and took up gardening instead). 

'death, the fact of death coming towards you, is also a memory, like the present.' -  marguerite duras, practicalities in an essay called the star.

horsemouth has fucked up royally. he has crashed and burned. well ok no but at a minimum he's going to have to rethink his plans a bit. on the whole horsemouth values things that are steady and predictable and that go on with the minimum of drama. it is important to learn to move slowly. 

outside daryll is doing his tai-chi (well done daryll). inside horsemouth has woken up with a headache for the second day running (this leads him to suspect he is ill rather than merely hung-over). he'll 'do a test' tomorrow as he has a meeting in the evening. he's finished reading practicalities and he's moved on to the lover (which he finds similarly excellent). blue eyes black hair he can't get on with - it's duras does sexual politics (and so very dull). 

last night horsemouth cooked late - pasta and pesto (red kidney beans, onions, peppers, courgettes, chilies). he still has some left which he will have for lunch. last night he watched a cat video (ok no he watched  the uncanny  an amicus style portmanteau horror movie with a montreal set frame story - he didn't recognise any of the locations but then it's a big city there's plenty you can end up not seeing). 

it's a beautiful blueskies morning. warmer than yesterday but approaching the seasonal average. soon enough (the end of the week) the equinox. 

------------------------------

it's the afternoon (just). horsemouth is back from the neighbourhood pharmacy - he's bought a ton of paracetamol (just in case he's getting ill) and eaten a strepsil. he's tested for the C-O-V-I-D and it's a no (so it could be the flu or just a cold).  he had a quick wander round (the book box near TGs is empty). he's finished off the pasta and pesto, and had a cup of tea made with a fresh teabag. his probable plan is to listen to the world at one (now that it's possible to have your news without royal funerals). on the other hand if there's more sunshine he might go into the back garden and read. 

so where's your real blog? (horsemouth is slightly hung over)

- what?

- you know. the one where you tell the truth and name names and be controversial.

this, to horsemouth, seems like a terrible idea. horsemouth is slightly hung over after an afternoon out in the wilds of east ham with howard (ok HG or whatever anonymisation is deemed necessary) . first they went to the pub with pizza (for pizza and beer) then they relocated up the road to the recently re-opened pub with the volden session. soon enough (as you may guess) horsemouth was the proponent of the more beer party, howard of the 'I think you've had enough'  party.

afterwards he made his way home through the seaside towns rapid mass transit system avoiding evidence of the local jumble trail (a bad idea opines horsemouth, he doesn't want people engaged in pseudo-commercial transactions out in the sunlight, he wants them to anonymously donate their book-stashes (either by leaving them on their front walls or by means of the book-boxes set up for that purpose). horsemouth is not interested in people playing shop. 

he cooked and ate, made an effort to sober up and waited for his mum to call (regular sunday phonecall instituted at the start of the pandemic). 

as usual (after drinking) horsemouth is slightly remorseful. there was a plan to go out this evening but horsemouth has shot his bolt with the east ham visit, he will have to cry off tonight's encounter. 

it's a grey day out there. horsemouth has some washing on the line (his valance, his yellow floral duvet cover) and because of this he's having to use his spare set, a purple valance  and the purple and orange stripey duvet cover). oh look there's some sunshine.  

horsemouth is rolling towards sixty (which is the new thirty for people with arthritis). how did that happen?

before this 60 was a desired state (a staging post on the way to pension day, bus pass day etc.) but now the terrible realisation that he will be old is dawning on him. two birthdays in the next few weeks. possible walk with TG in a bit. horsemouth will check the phone and the email to assess the full extent of his remorse. horsemouth should hurry up and live. 

how should he write about it?

'accounts based on chronology, on external facts, seemed to be the most popular. you start at the beginning of your life and then trundle along towards the present on the rails of public events...' m.duras,practicalities. 

today lots of faffing with the queen ending in her burial tonight. thereafter horsemouth predicts the rapid return of politics as usual. 

the light in the sky show (the truth about the light in the back garden)

ok it's 8.30 am now and the light in the sky is barely over the houses on the opposite side of the road (now that it rises further south on the eastern horizon - quite where this would appear to be horsemouth cannot tell you -  leyton at least, probably stratford). it will rise up into the sky but to a lower apparent height casting sunbeams towards the back of horsemouth's room (some of which will make it over the rooftops into horsemouth's back garden. by around 3pm the sun will be declining in the west and casting its rays down and back eastwards into the garden (a small patch in the shadow of the wall will not be directly illuminated). by 6pm it will stop shining on the raised decking. by 7.30 pm or so it is all over for the light in the sky show. 

the truth about the light in the back garden is that horsemouth could do with more of it. to dry it out during the long rainy season of winter, to help the plants grow, to keep him warm when he sits out there and reads. in the summer he actually wants more shade in the back garden so that he can sit and read in the shade.  

hold up horsemouth needs to go to the loo and then get more coffee. 

ah he's back. 

yesterday a walk up to walthamstow (st. james street oxfam, no purchases, nor anything found in the coppermill lane bookbox) and then back through the industrial estate (past cee cee galleries? and the secret vietnamese restaurant). 7km all told. the day before yesterday's find (in a bin literally) was outside the gate: st.botolph's and adgate 950-1994, malcolm johnson (slightly stained but ok copy). later he read in the back garden (duras practicalities again 'every life is an insoluble problem'), later the hawkbinge podcast, later still walter hill's the driver (stylish, well shot, a little empty).

then, almost immediately, bed. 

outside it looks a very passable day. horsemouth is due to be off to sunny east ham at some point. (next weekend a gig and a party and the weekend after a party). it's a busy social whirl. 

it's sort of a year since all the filming of the fall of the house of  fitzgerald and horsemouth's part in the recording of the soundtrack. horsemouth has been posting the still photographs from the adventure. it's two years ago. how time flies. 

'deadly fires are common in china, where lax enforcement of building codes...' (ahem...)

so says the guardian. 

there's been a fire in a tower block in changsa, china. the film shows it burning most royally and burning bits of cladding/ insulation peeling off and floating (burning of course) to the ground (kind of like that tower block in france). of course this is a problem in france, china, rumania, many of the gulf states etc (where they have lax enforcement of building codes and indeed poor building codes period that permit sticking napalm to the outside of tower blocks). 

not like the glorious united kingdom (oh no). 

fortunately this was an office block (telecommunications) not accommodation with sleeping residents.

it's rolling towards autumn. it's a bit nippy this morning. horsemouth types this  sat up in bed with the blanket over his knees and a jumper on. it looks beautiful and sunny outside but the air is cold. 

last night more practicalities  with marguerite duras - horsemouth has hit the middle of the book and the episodes have started to drag (too short to develop their own flavour much, too little room for the turn). as a side order he read the first few pages of the lover which are genius, photographs, memories adrift in time interrogated. the sureness of line. there in the south bank documentary she was reading them. she has a thing for text that is just read (in a film, in a play), thinking that it is enough, that there  doesn't need to be acting. blue eyes, black hair by her (another side order) doesn't go as well, we have a failure of desire, and a moving beyond it. 

curiously this is the part of duras' writing that interests horsemouth least (her desire, her sexuality) - he would rather know more about her time in films, in 68, about her time in the resistance during the war, about her alcoholism). he's probably just a little prudish still. her thoughts on the relationships possible between men and women strike horsemouth as pessimistic but true.  

he thinks he may have some more duras around here somewhere. or else he has lent it out/ given it away. 

yesterday horsemouth was in a meeting (he felt virtuous even though he didn't say very much). curiously a meeting about installing insulation into the housing co-op's owned properties. but still the bad news comes - housing has to be handed back, people have to lose their homes, if there's any replacement housing isn't clear. (well, let's rephrase that, it's clear there isn't any right now). 

the sun is now low enough in the sky to shine into horsemouth's room (his room is in the basement of the  south-facing front of the house). the disadvantage of this is that it is now too low in the sky to shine into the back garden which will become damp, neglected and sad over winter. (ok ok it is probably too early in the day and too early in the year to assert this just yet but hey). 

the front garden is now full of cardboard boxes - daryll is moving a lot of his tools etc. to a shipping container with some friends. hopefully he will get more use out of them there and good things will come of it. daryll's stuff does not disturb horsemouth much (because it is away in storage, it is not occupying the living room, it is not being carted in and out and randomly dumped with the end of every job). who knows maybe progress is happening in horsemouth's house. 

famous last words on the coffin madness

huzzah. horsemouth has made it to friday. sounds like the binmen have been. it's a greyish morning (but then it can turn into t-shirt weather at the drop of a hat). 

horsemouth is up slightly late after pleasant morning  reminiscences. he has the last of the morning coffee which he has topped out with some hot water. 

'a piece of writing is a whole - that proceeds as a whole - it never presents itself as a matter of choice' 

so remarks marguerite duras to jerome beaujour (they transcribe it, read it over and appraise it, then marguerite would make corrections). 

'I've talked a lot about writing. but I don't now what it is.'

it is a technique that lasts out until her death (and then, modified,  slightly beyond). bunin got to reflect upon his death (writing down his thoughts slightly ahead of it), gide got to note that his sentences were becoming grammatically incorrect (and his friends wrote it down).

practicalities is a generous book in short sections (as it was dictated). duras talks about men and houses and cooking and alcohol (la vie materielle) and then the text was edited. with no more there is no more, it's the words of her death bed 

famous last words is a classic english saying appended to any statement or plan that the author thinks may later go wrong (or it is important to warn people that at the very least it could go wrong). 

it should go ok. famous last words.

today a meeting. horsemouth is not sure he can go to. there is more bad news on the housing front (for other people) or rather the extension of existing bad news. horsemouth has nearly got things where he wants them - to the best result he thinks can be obtained out of the situation. famous last words. 

javier zacares the noon of the rentier (in NLR may/june 2021) as advertised on the cover appears to be called euphoria of the rentier when the title is actually  reached. the idea is that capitalism has become risk averse and no longer wishes to engage with workers, production and all that faff but just wants to rent out access to resources that it owns. there is tendency to view this as a return to a variety of feudalism. 

a friend seems to be down in the centre viewing the coffin madness at close quarters. the coffin madness lasts until monday. of course mourning is important. the dead have to be decently buried so that everyone can move on. but there will be no moving on, the state is working hard to ensure that seamless succession, that lulling drone of ritual and (pop) the nearly dead will be our new (constitutional) masters. the one voted for by just 80 000 tory members and a third of her MPs  will be our new (political) master. 

it should go ok. famous last words.

a life is no small matter

'you can talk about your life 

your whole life long 

(a life is no small matter)' 

marguerite duras (as told to jerome beaujour), in practicalities. horsemouth has repunctuated it after his usual fashion.

horsemouth is re-reading practicalities  again 'this book helped us pass the time. from the beginning of autumn to the end of winter...'. she's very good. there's a great panegyric to alcohol and there's  a great scene with the DTs. there's a great section about writing. the book is battered from reading and re-reading.

horsemouth supposes that it is more life writing though often it is as much writing about writing.

last night horsemouth dreamt about music hall stars living in lower clapton. there was to be a map and blue plaques. 

yesterday two walks one with TG - the usual circuit and then horsemouth invited him back to look through his collection of cymbal stands- TG chose two and too them away. they are the CB make, which is kind of a starters set (but they should work ok). horsemouth could not interest him in the crash cymbal (as used on pagodas) which is a pity because it does  sound good (in horsemouth's opinion) nor in the hi-hat stand or the bass drum pedal. . 

later a wander down to myk near the top of brick lane (a consultation about cat-sitting). horsemouth is interested to know how myk's retirement is going (he wants to pic the brains of people ahead of him in the process).  horsemouth wandered down through sunny streets passed people engaged in the pleasure economy (when it's good this town is  good). probably 9km there and back. 

horsemouth didn't take down any books to lend out (and he didn't borrow any either). if he's getting mobile he needs  to have far fewer books. 

the queen is dead and we now have a king. in some medieval re-enactment the populace are gathering in giant queues to file past the coffin and pay their respects (madness mutters horsemouth). 

what he is up to today he doesn't yet know - probably a wander round. tomorrow an introductory  meeting (he should check if  the regular attendee will be attending). 

pavilions of the sun (absolute clarity as soon as possible)

so horsemouth had dream about being at a family reunion (mind you, it being a dream there were people there he didn't  know). later he had dreams about domestic conflict and meetings not going well and paintings with hidden meanings. he slept in nicely courtesy of his blanket and duvet patent sleeping system. he made himself remember the family reunion dream - the other stuff is more recent. 

horsemouth's social calendar is filling up. birthdays and such like (how will he ever fulfill all his obligations?) . the post-alcohol gringe is departing. 

the regular people walk past horsemouth's window, hurrying to work or school, doing the school run towing children. cycling too. horsemouth has his coffee - he's going to go and get the dregs from the pot just now (and add some hot water). when he's done the blogpost he will have a bowl of museli and cups of tea. there's some pasta left over from last night. horsemouth is trying to keep a record of what ind of starch he consumes (bread/ potato/ pasta/ rice).

there's a bit of a critique of hippy consumerism going on in the t.rex clip- sure there's lots of nakedness and  dope smoking (dum maro dum! boom-shanka! (etc.) that all over tan is most important) but there's also lots of litter and coca-cola cans. 

out for a wander yesterday horsemouth (briefly) bumped into TG (looking very spruce). horsemouth himself was still hung over from the night before and so not very lively. later he went for a wander on the marshes and litter-picked some beer bottles.  

books distributed horsemouth returns home drunk

you are aware that horsemouth is thinning down his library. last night he went out to attempt to give away a raft of books (with reasonable success). after a late start (like an idiot horsemouth had not taken his phone out with him and so didn't get the I will be late messages) they chatted away but sadly during the process horsemouth became drunk. he has very little recollection of the journey home (the ship shop maybe).

at some point in the night he woke up and managed to dose himself with paracetamol and drink some water. nonetheless he is up and posting later than usual this morning. 

the day is co-operating by being grey and cool.   

goremenghast style rituals where the replacement is enthroned (why do you write?)

horsemouth has said it before and he'll say it again, strange women, lying in ponds, distributing swords is no basis for a system of government..it is, of course, important to rush the succession through, before some raises a just cause or impediment. 

marguerite duras on her deathbed (typing away or her comments recorded)

'all my life I have written

like a sausage out of a grinder

that's what I've done...'

the scan of the book flips over (into the untranslated french), in a  documentary her voice can be heard in french beneath her speaking we can read the spanish subtitles beneath her image. we have the illusion we can ponder the differences between the languages. 

horsemouth watched a south bank show documentary on her, then another on paul bowles (it may even be the bbc film crew he complains about in two years beside the strait: tangier journal 1987-9). for bowles the world has got worse. 

'I looked through Liberation's questionnaire of two years ago: pourqoui ecrivez-vous? - this time to see what was the most usual answer. very few writers claimed financial necessity as a reason for exercising their profession. many admitted they had no idea why they wrote. but the majority responded by implying that they were impelled to write by some inner force which could not be denied. the more scrupulous of these did not hesitate to admit that their principal satisfaction was in feeling that they were leaving a part of themselves behind - in other words writing was felt to confer a certain minimal immortality. this would have been understandable earlier in the century when it was assumed that life on the planet would continue indefinitely. now that the prognosis is doubtful, the desire to leave a trace behind seems absurd ..'

horsemouth had not realised quite how much work bowles had done as a composer. he was aware of him only in connection with his novels and short stories and for his connection with morocco and its music. he has read two years in a night (it's a book of stass's). there's a mention of richard horowitz (the compiler of night spirit masters an album of gnawa moroccan music). horsemouth has the sheltering sky,  he has stories, he did have let it all come down (he thinks he distributed it back into the charity shop nexus). 

yesterday he made two trips out to various book boxes to get shot of his unread haul. a lot of the george eliot  has to go (he just finds it unreadable) and what is readable (middlemarch, the mill on the floss) it can easily be found again. horsemouth should contribute back to the book box  system. 

it is monday. the start of the week (even if horsemouth is not obliged by reason of  work to participate in this). this morning perhaps a walk with TG. last night he slept under a duvet and a blanket. he missed watching silent running (the missing link SF movie). 

'just because you wander in the desert (it doesn't mean there is a promised land)'

having made it to saturday. horsemouth makes it to sunday. it's a greyskyish morning, it doesn't look like it rained overnight. here horsemouth pauses to look at the notebook TG gave him which he is using as a diary - he pulls the quote for the title and remembers that he was reading some paul auster online (following on from his reading of the ethics of life writing where paul is mentioned).

hand to mouth  is engaging because it is about a young auster's failure to earn a living, he likes work, he lies the people he meets but it is blue collar work that he enjoys (and that, as we know, while being key, does not pay). in the invention of solitude he is, like kausgaard, engaged in clearing out his father's house after his death. it is an autobiography of the type father and son. 

also last night horsemouth watched ghost story of the snow woman (human-ghost relationships, it is rare that they end well).

the local book boxes are looking sad and empty. horsemouth should go and feed them (seeing as he actually wants to get rid of some books and begin to thin down his collection). broadly horsemouth's two wanders yesterday were out to the book boxes. 

the news is problematic. it is full of dying royals or goremenghast style rituals where the replacement is enthroned. horsemouth is not interested in such bullshit. 

one man is king... other men... subjects

"one man is king only because other men stand in the relation of subjects to him. they, on the contrary, imagine that they are subjects because he is king” 

here marx gives an example of reflextive categories (relations in general) in hegel. (horsemouth is indebted to ben for this quote). it reminds him of althusser's interest in precisely how marx does his thinking even though althusser's view on it would be an anathema to ben. 

it reminds horsemouth of john berger's formulations in ways of seeing. the key word here is imagine.

kings are of course not like other men, they are magical creatures, they are tabooed, the food they have touched may not be consumed, should the harvest fail they may be sacrificed as an offering to the gods (here horsemouth should probably go back and re-read totem and taboo). 

sadly this is now observed less literally than it once was. we are into the days of a constitutional monarchy (whatever that is). ersatz kings and queens are sacrificed on many different ballot boxes and derive their legitimacy from them likewise. 

horsemouth will be ignoring the days of mourning for the old queen (what the fuck is this? game of thrones?) he has no time for their puppet shows. the strikes and the measures to stop the population freezing to death this winter he will pay attention to.  

meanwhile signs of life at hawbinge towers. they claim to be editing the show on choose your masques (one of the dullest hawkwind albums ever made). horsemouth had suspected the youngster had done a runner faced with the decades of dross. here an interview with the oldster (and long established fan) andy hood - and decent it is too. 

yesterday a wander (in fact conducted by bus) with ayesha up to the william morris museum to see the althea mcnish exhibit. later howard visited (on his way back from work) and they sank some beers (by way of food all horsemouth had to offer was toast). 

thereafter horsemouth went to bed early. 

horsemouth - no respecter of persons (I owe! I owe! It's off to work we go)

horsemouth has no affection for the windsor puppet show (nor the westminster one neither). he is no respecter of persons. god save the king? no way. fuck off!  which one do you reckon? probably young king andrew (the ladies choice). a safe pair of hands as the lawyers say.

bring forth the guillotine says horsemouth. 

meanwhile we await the detail on the plan to stop us all freezing to death this winter. as usual the government will skimp on helping the people who really need it and splurge on helping the people who don't really need it (and we will all pay for it later - allegedly - but it is in fact on the never-never er. if the financial markets (aka. the bankers) let this bill be bounced on them. ah they will, for increased consideration). 

inflation (price rises) attack your ability to reproduce your labour value driving down the real cost of labour but critically (like debt) driving people into work to ensure their survival. it drives labour discipline - because people cannot afford to lose their jobs.

at work the value of people's labour travels from the people to the rich and in (almost) every deed of consumption too. debt is a powerful driver - the parody song I owe! I owe! It's off to work we go is often sung first thing. what better way than to mediate debts than through the state. 

it is just as possible to run capitalism under the sign of penitential lent as under the sign of luxurious carnival. 

of course it makes more sense to windfall tax the excess profits of the power companies in exchange for guaranteeing them payment (there is, to be fair, a war going on). but that, for various ideological reasons, is not what's going to happen. 

horsemouth is trying to hide out in the hills and eek out a living on his limited savings - of course inflationary spirals and increasing energy bills, food prices etc. will not help. nonetheless so far it seems to be going ok.

yesterday's discovery? some courgettes left out by a church group that does a foodbank (than you godly dudes). further reading of the ethics of life writing (an imagined conversation with a dead father at cricket match).  the latest thrift-a-life video - 'for a slumbering market'  this guy is his own zola, a diagnostic tool for hoarding and horders (and a mild friendly conversation about hoarding (and fathers)).

today a walk. possibly a meet up with howard later. 

horsemouth in the dunes (the ethics of life writing)

grey morning. last night horsemouth finished watching woman in the dunes (1964) -  a film so perfectly kafka-esque horsemouth hesitates to mention it.

when he had finished watching the film he had a shower and then read some more of the ethics of life writing before sleep mercifully intervened. 

two girls walk down the street and then, when one checks their phone walk, back lots of 'k's' in that sentence, the letter is sometimes sticky, or horsemouth has become self-conscious about its use. horsemouth takes the recycling out surprising a girl walking to school. (remind him to put a new bag in the recycling bin).

earlier he had taken out the compost. his housemates can certainly generate it but can they take it out to the bin. rhetorical question - no they can not. mind you horsemouth is relieved to see that after a month the take away container has made it downstairs and out of the living room. 

there are new housing bods - there were new housing ministers under the shortlived boris johnson summer  holiday government (but new PM, new ministers). george clarke is now gone (his predecessor michael gove was gone for being disloyal to boris) and is replaced by simon clarke (no relation). the 'consultation' on limiting rent rises will presumably last until  12 october. the secretary of state will then direct the regulator of social housing on rent standards, confirming the maximum amount social housing landlords can increase rents by for 1 april 2023 to 31 march 2024. this will be less than inflation and the housing associations etc. will be expected to suck up the loss. 

the other bods have either been left in place or are so lowly it has not made it into the media or onto the department website who they are yet. still on and up the greasy pole. 

jenrick the bent is now at heath you will all be relieved to hear. 

michael 'he dances alone' gove horsemouth will admit to feeling slightly sorry for, he wanted to do something, he has been prevented from doing it, another  political life ends in failure, he is seen dancing alone in a dundee nightclub (horsemouth is a sucker for the romance of development). 

horsemouth has a plan - he opened the book and looked at it yesterday - people who can be approached for recording, people who can be approached for gigs. he's still not (post-pandemic) fully mobile yet. frankly he's not very up and running. he's having some fun with the 12 string 

horsemouth also has a plan for a CD release. he has three honest to god new tracks - guitar piece (for pier marton), jai guru, murder ballad from the 2022 recording campaign with howard that could be finished off, he has a brace of tunes that never made it to CD the humming, malkin tower, he has stuff he recorded with CATASTRO/fille, and he has some covers. 

in the ethics of life writing a son wants to write a biography of his father. but of course it is not a simple tale of affirmation and therein lies the ethical rub. he ends up writing the biography and writing a long theoretical digression (which he farms off into an essay in the ethics of life writing). something similar happens with broch's the sleepwalkers - except he keeps the long theoretical disquisition in, that's his interest to meld and combine novel and theoretical text. 

horsemouth has the housing stuff and he has the music stuff (and he can do lots of reading and walking round). is this enough? 

finders keepers losers weepers (you could knock horsemouth down with a feather)

horsemouth has his coffee. it looks like sten made it (and then forgot about it or has gone back to bed). horsemouth claims finders keepers losers weepers. (earlier horsemouth had heard sten clumping about).

well you could knock horsemouth down with a feather - the building waste from the front of the house is gone (leaving only an unsightly  absence and some mud on the steps). as if to help with the project of forgetting auld acquaintance it has rained also. the sun shines on the place of possibilities. 

all of this must have happened while horsemouth was away on a wander up to the wetlands. (of the order of 8km all told)  here we  see him looking out of a window). 

novara media are pointing out that the logical inconsistency of liz truss's position (tax cuts for the rich, state subsidies for the poor based on borrowing) may be ideologically inconsistent but it is the pattern of modern republicanism (ever since george 'dubya' bush). it is the only sane and sensible policy when faced with the cost of living crisis, the need to stop the economy from tanking and the need to get re-elected in a mere two years time. truss is ideological through and through but watch her suddenly develop the political nous to do what she disagrees with. truss's position is weak (even the tory party members - her natural base - have given her a lukewarm launch).

of course just because liz will now splash the cash it doesn't mean people will be grateful. many people are on key meters already, arrears for electricity and gas and rent are already huge, the queues for courts are long. the first (unaffordable) rise will stand, the tax 'cuts' lie in not bringing in new taxes. 

there is no 'feel good' factor in this (there's no new money in people's pockets), it will all 'feel bad' and still cost billions. an ungrateful nation etc. etc.

and what does the nation get for it's billions in support of the utility companies' profits? nothing..

all lowering VAT will do is moderate the inflationary price-rises somewhat.  .

the truss mantra is growth - growth and productivity, things british capitalism lost the recipe for a long time ago. things that would actually require work to reverse the damage of the thatcher years to achieve. 

today. horsemouth should probably write more 'stuff' to see what he thinks. 

walk with ayesha friday. possible meet up with howard friday afternoon/ evening. 

when the humming birds are swarming

huzzah! horsemouth is through to blogger. for it wasn't showing him the grey topmost bar and the make new post button (and so horsemouth was unable to post). imagine his anxiety ladies and gentlemen. 

last night a movie the humanity bureau with nicholas cage - horsemouth played the 'recognising movie tropes' game with sten; who's he? ah it's nicholas cage. hero. what genre of movie is it? look at those colours - it's clearly SF, dusty, dirty, it's clearly a dystopia. who's he? - he's got an eyepatch, he's clearly the villain.  

away in texas the humming birds are swarming. here in the seaside towns it has rained over night and now the sun has come out. to celebrate his win on blogger horsemouth has gone and got a second cup of coffee. 

after his meeting yesterday horsemouth did nothing useful (he is ashamed to say) but he had got in a 7km roundtrip walk. today he's due a walk with TG. allegedly doughty workmen are arriving to clear the front garden.

 

monday morning (and the launch of the good ship week)

horsemouth is fortunate. he starts the week with a meeting (and thus it looks lie he is living a useful life/ engaged in meaningful activity). he'll walk over in a bit. 

the smell of tomcat spray or fox shit comes in the window (stinky beasts).

horsemouth has sent an envelope full of shit to the government - though not for the reason you first might expect from him. it's part of a clinical screening survey for older men to try and detect bowel cancer from the microscopic amount of blood in the poo. anyway he does hope he got enough poo on their shitty little plastic stick to enable an accurate diagnosis. (horsemouth is a clean living beast these days he's got no fears of contraband being detected). now all horsemouth has to do is to go and get his blood pressure measured/ remember to inquire if there's the possibility of a covid/ omicron jab and a flu jab and engage with the increasing medicalisation of the old. 

horsemouth is rolling towards sixty and his bus pass. in health terms he has a little arthritis (this might necessitate some changes in playing styles) and weak(ish) lungs that require him to be careful in cold weather. other than that he's pretty ok. 

this week a walk with TG and a walk with ayesha (for sure). 

greg clark, the housing secretary, has said social landlords will be limited to an annual rent increase of between 3% and 7% for the next one or two years. now the state would normally (mostly) cover the inflationary increase in the rent bill through universal credit (whether people are in work or not) but by limiting what social landlords can charge they are in fact bouncing paying for those inflationary increases in costs onto the social landlords. 

the government  did a similar thing a few years ago where they forced social landlords to reduce rents by 1% a year for 5 years - this reduced this portion of the benefits bill but also the surpluses and the reserves of social landlords and their ability to either build new social housing or fund repairs and improvements  to their existing stock. (horsemouth realises that sympathy for the landlord is not a popular view but there it is). 

faced with their own inflationary pressures social housing landlords are driven to develop more property for sale or at commercial rent to meet the shortfall. but even this requires confidence that conditions will be predictable and that greg clark wearing a dracula costume will not suddenly emerge from behind a rose bush to suck their blood.

after the increases in electricity and gas costs this winter (and probably next winter) social housing tenants not on universal credit or whose payments are capped will not be best placed to pay a rent rise. these rent rises will hit in april for most tenants.

if it's  7% it makes little odds (it may as well by the customary CPI (inflation) + 1%) it's unpayable, but even if it's 3% it's probably still unpayable. inflation (the headline rate is currently running at about 10%) hits the poor much harder, power cost hikes hit the poor much harder (because they are mainly on key meters). 

nanny state and the excesses of the bankers

good morning! good morning! 

horsemouth's face is feeling a little rubbery today. (as if he were not fully awake).

horsemouth has finished seeing by jose saramago (a book he initially claimed was called the silence). he has finally  (second or third reading) registered the end. spoiler: there are assassinations conducted by the  democratic state in the name of democracy. the political strategy, reintegrate the people who issue blank votes by returning to a moment of national trauma and using that to bring the people back together is a smart one, but what is pathological in the response is then to attempt to view it as causal and look for a plot driving it, for conspirators, and to assassinate them. 

and this is where the book leaves us.

the original title in portuguese is not seeing (or even the silence as if it were by ingmar bergman) it is ensaio sobre a lucidez, literally. essay on lucidity (but ensao having more the meaning of assay). similarly blindness was in fact originally titled ensaio sobre a cegueira, meaning (much more straightforwardly) essay on blindness.  lucidity is strange there.

yesterdays find (whilst on an utimately unsuccessful attempt to find a route to walthamstow  parallel to the industrial estate route without a map) was a book box on flempton road. in it a copy of the NLR may/ june 2021, a book of a strange optimism.

(interestingly enough, continuing the portuguese theme, this copy of the NLR also features an essay on pessoa.)

'neo-liberalism is ebbing away. the state is returning to the centre of the economy...' - goran therborn  (june 2021)

like a lot of wedges, sagely remarks horsemouth, the thin bit initially seems the least impressive. 

that is the historical trend, in the short cycle of capitalism (as it rampages through the different sectors) - the markets have a gambling party and take their winnings home, the state clears up the mess, there is always a role for the state in neo-liberalism. it's just that they don't sing about nanny state tidying up after the party in their songs of self-actualisation and buccaneer capitalism. it has to be there in practice but it's not there in the ideology (except negatively as a kind of evil old witch that stops good things from happening). 

there is however the part of the cycle when the beast needs a bigger kick to get up in the morning  - and here a role is seen for the state, as contractor in chief, signer of cheques,  banker of last resort when it all goes tits up (nor do the bankers sing about this). and so it was during the pandemic, and during the financial crisis and er, whenever anything goes the slightest bit wrong really. 

after years of neo-liberal propaganda it is tempting to view every appearance of the state onstage and actually being useful in the drama as a renaissance in the concept of democratic control (but it is not).

tomorrow we probably get thatcher's mini-me liz truss as new leader of the tory party and thus (unelected) as prime minister of the country. her position within the tory party is weak, her ideology is thatcherite, the tasks require the state to step forward (to get out the cheque-book and to foot the bill), her ideology is to step back. 

and so is sunak's. this is, in fact, the point of the article, to reveal the extent that the motors for political action are not entirely economical (that would be at least the beginnings of a rational management of capitalist excesses - an amelioration of capitalism after the fact). 

in many ways we would have been better off with boris because he doesn't have a political idea in his head he just likes being important. (still, the way things are looking he'll probably be back soon).

the sun shone and horsemouth sat  in leyton jubilee park contemplating the people.

the tide of neo-liberalism ebbs and it flows too. ultimately neo-liberalism is a capitalist fantasy, a myth of time when it does not need the state.  we are stuck with the entomologist and the woman of the dunes in an experience of unfreedom (and with bookpilled who reviews it). 

horsemouth had written  more on social landlords being  limited to an annual rent increase of between 3% and 7% for the next one or two years by the government but he'll come back to that another time. 

today (a sunday). horsemouth does not now what he is up to (another wander round maybe). 

monday morning (the relaunch of the good ship week) horsemouth goes to a meeting (about meetings) on insulation. this means he will have to postpone his usual wander with TG. 

horsemouth found a golden apple on his travels (imagine the amount of trouble that could cause)

it is morning. 

horsemouth shows you rob lawson's under the spell of the calima in an effort to persuade you to buy it (or at least go and listen to it on bandcamp). it's great it is. the calima is the hot, dry, dusty wind from the sahara that brings the sand from the desert (and causes respiratory complaints). the sand falls mainly in spain (and the canary isles) but this year a particularly enthusiastic calima deposited sahara sand on the south of england. 

meanwhile back in england 

horsemouth has climbed up out of the subterranean basement to find the recycling gone (woo hoo). (hail the binmen - the most necessary workers of consumerism). 

the rubbish however (household waste) remains with us in its unfashionable black bags (and black wheely-bin). horsemouth suspects the binmen do not trust these black bags imagining them full of building waste/ garden waste etc. (how could that ever happen?) but he may be wrong, it may be that we are just on the wrong week of the two week cycle for rubbish (recycling every week, rubbish every two weeks). 

horsemouth found a golden apple on his travels (imagine the amount of trouble that could cause). 

earlier there was a fox snoozing in the back garden.(horsemouth thinks it may be hiding out in the shed (and shitting everywhere)). 

he has just tuned his new 12 string guitar down 3 steps (the way he believes leo kottke plays it) the better to get that great resonant sound (and greater ease of squeezing the strings down). he's on a half hour of playing the 12 string so far today. robbie basho (he believes) would often tune to an open c - cgcgce. he did not do his full hour of practice lie he promised  yesterday (but he does not feel bad about it because at east he has started on a program of playing it regularly). 

we move towards the equinox. we move towards winter.  

phew. he's got the gas and electric money in for the month. horsemouth takes care of these bills for the house. he likes to know where he is with these things. he had a small tin of that grapefruit tasting IPA to celebrate and he chatted with john in far off porto - a possible september visitor. 

so where is horsemouth with the electricity and gas? he is is fucked that's where he is - bills due to go up ridiculous percentages in october (and again in january). the power company have sent him the announcement of their intention to raise his direct debit in october. horsemouth can afford it, many of his housemates can afford it, but he's not convinced all his housemates can afford it.  

further he is convinced most people cannot afford it - that there is an army of CAN'T PAY out there (as well as regiment of WON'T PAY). the new tory cabinet of bastards comes in monday-tuesday-wednesday. he suspects they will remove the green levies, announce they are building nuclear power plants as fast as they can and leave the poor to freeze over winter. 

people will die in fires as they light their homes with candles. horsemouth expects to catch the occasional whiff of coal being burned as he walks around. people will die attempting to bypass their electricity meters (and more dangerously their gas meters - don't do it advises horsemouth). respiratory diseases will rise and frankly the old will just freeze to death.  

the truly poor are already removed from the equation because they have prepayment meters (if they cannot pay right now then neither should they have light, heat, be able to cook food for their kids - that's fair isn't it (and it will help them budget)). beyond that there is the swathe of people who attempt to do the right thing, who make ends meet, but whose wages haven't risen in real terms in a decade or more, who will no longer be able to make ends meet. 

now these are 'the people' or rather 'the people that vote', horsemouth is convinced that in britain you can do anything you like to the poor but you can't do it to the people - they will not wear it. 

so what are the ways out for the government? . 

now either the power companies (vast profits though not from their retail arms) have to take the hit or the government has to take the hit (and borrow the money to pay for it seeing as the tax take is so low because they no longer tax the rich). either that or the economy will fall into long term depression because everybody's last penny will be sucked into heating their home and feeding their kids.  

monday a meeting to discuss insulation and things (better late than never) - there is government money available to help with this but it looks like the new minister for that department will be jacob rees-mogg.(or the child-catcher general as he is known). mogg is not noted for his green sympathies (or indeed sympathy of any kind). 

what will the big fish in the little pond do?

horsemouth made a resolution last night to play the 12 string for one hour a day. (he moved it up to premier position on his guitar stands and it has been looking at him reproachfully with its great big headstock). make sure he keeps to it. that boy's a born slacker. 

democracy was founded by a tyrant.(i.f.stone) in saramago's ex-capital city they have undermined democracy by casting blank votes.(horsemouth is nearly finished reading seeing). in blindness (the book that takes place four years before the events of seeing)  everyone goes blind (as if from an infectious plague) society crumbles into a herd and beyond a herd into a hellish 'each against all'. 

(horsemouth made some efforts to read day of the triffids  to see what the post-war british take on this would be, but he bounced off).

seeing is full of an engaging comedy as the president, the prime-minister and the interior minister vie for position. the government's strategy out of the epidemic of non-voting is to admit to the trauma of the months of the blindness, to peel back that repression (clever move) and start the nation talking about it. 

the blindness becomes the event that explains and forgives the epidemic of blank votes and permits the re-incorporation of the rebel capital back into the state. (that anyway was the plan) . 

there is some more engaging comedy as 3 policemen (paralleling the president/ prime minister / interior minister, horsemouth now realises) are sent to  interrogate the one possible suspect (the one woman who did not go blind in the epidemic).

horsemouth was listening to a R4 series on the 'spanish' flu pandemic at the end of WW I. now this was almost totally removed from collective memory. in some ways (ok ok some people remember their grandparents mentioning it).  this happened because it lacks battles and generals and geo-political objectives, it does not fit in to a narrative of development and growth, and then again more 'stuff' happened after it - the roaring twenties, the depression, WW II, the cold war, the consumer boom etc. etc. 

further it was a a time before a fully developed 'national' health service in the UK existed (one developed enough at least to issue death certificates and take a measure of 'excess deaths'), and a national media, when people were often unaware of what was happening in the next town. when death though disease was a private matter that largely happened at home. 

now the question is what kind of historical repression will be associated with the covid pandemic. (not that there won't be another flare up this winter and each successive winter).

of course the main covid lie will be that the lockdown was not necessary. here horsemouth ignores what he takes to be the straight-forward conspiracy model, that there was no covid, the people who died died as a result of vaccination with poison by a government aiming to reduce the population to permit their 'great replacement' with a more docile worforce from abroad/ andor confine the native population in their homes, working from home etc. . 

the argument that lockdown was not necessary or indeed counterproductive  is an argument that can be had within the bounds of reason (reckons horsemouth).  much of the excess death is caused by disease going untreated, by a  backlog of treatment, some of that due to lockdown itself, some of that due to overloading of the NHS by the extra burden of covid. 

this has taken a service that nearly fell over each winter as a result of flu and made it more likely to fall over.

within this argument there are two threads - one asserts a counterfactual efficacy, that the measures were not necessary (that COVID was only really a threat to the aged and infirm) and that this can be measured and shown, - the second is an argument about freedom, about the biopolitical extension of state power into people's lives on medical grounds being encouraged by the pandemic. 

now here in laissez-faire slap-happy britain horsemouth sees little sign of the second, 'you must stay at home yes, (and party) er. china yes. here the desire to get back to playing the game they understand is the ruling ambition (and so we soon had rishi sunak delivering pizzas). 

 

the next covid lie will be that it had no effect on the national health service and was not in any way a 'final straw'. now GDP can be calculated in many ways (it is basically any money spent), so if healthcare gets more expensive that will contribute to GDP - it will stop being a matter of 'the burden of taxation' and start  being a matter of increased profits. the restructuring of the NHS (in line with earlier privatisations) is a major political project that will produce many contracts and opportunities for wealth grubbing. it is corporate activity that will look good on the balance sheet, the cost of it will be born by the workers as insurance payments.

COVID is in many ways the first tremor of the bigger  wave that is coming out of the natural word to upset our politics and plans for development. that wave is climate change. 

we are being sold a model of green growth, that there will be enough solar panels to go round (and a wind farm if not on every hill then on every flat bit of water) and capitalism will continue on seamlessly, by being wonderfully inventive and responsive to customer demand. BP (british petroleum) will have a green logo and it will all be like tellytuby land. 

but there is also the real danger of a top-down de-growth where the costs of the changes necessary to keep the business afloat through the climate crisis are born entirely by the workers not as a sunny upland of transition and new highly-paid jobs but as a reduction in living standards (raised power bills produce lower usage for greater profits lest we forget).

some will wish to pretend that it isn't happening. that all we need to do is reduce green levies, frack for more gas and build nuclear power plants. and with ever increasing carbon emission we will advance into the future.

a friend once described brexit as the british ruling classes desire to be big fish in a little pond. what will the big fish in the little pond do?

saramago once wrote a novel the stone raft where the iberian penninsula splits off from europe and sets sail to discover its destiny (a better metaphor for brexit horsemouth has never seen). the portuguese refer to us as their oldest ally but it is our great similarities (as ex-empires grown small) that in fact unite us. 

they are in fact ahead of us. they are our future.  

the arrival of the maine demos (here/ voyage book)

so they're here. the demos from howard's time in maine (and very good they are too). as far as horsemouth can tell it's just one fender FA15 parlour guitar and one vocal (with the occasional harmony). horsemouth has given it a listen through on headphones, and will give it another listen through now. howard's voice was always good but the tunes and arrangements are stronger and his guitar playing is really good these days. he suspects that's it for musicians of bremen stuff for the season.

horsemouth was out early 'taking the air' -  the powerscroft road bookbox was neglected (people are on holiday horsemouth guessses), round the corner on colenso some good finds - . here 1989 by richard mcguire and voyage book 2 valentine ammeux.

in here we are looking (6 frames a page) at the corner of a room (domestic interiors). we start in 1957 but then an event from 1922 leaks in (and then 1971). it's less a leak, more that the temporal focus cannot hold, that the events must talk to each other, the frame must be multiply occupied. the unity of place is obeyed. 

ammeux's voyage book 2 is a book on a photography project shot with disposable cameras during a solo trip to south america in 2013 (unlike horsemouth .ammeux took his disposable cameras to be developed). he's not in any of the photos, some have ghostly double exposures on them, the quality of the image is insufficient for what is photographed to eyes trained with the amazing cameras in people's phones. he travels, he wanders, he reads raymond depardon's errance. 

there's a physical book, there are  photos online, the remenants of a crowdfunder.

on the corner of colenso road and saratoga road an upstairs room had burnt out. the fire brigade were 'in attendance'. it was all over but it is a useful reminder that fires still happen (though less so than they used to). 

in the afternoon horsemouth went for another wander this time into the marshes. he returned with a couple of beer bottles to put in the recycling. he watched the news. he went to bed early. 

today (once again) he does not know. he should get on with doing some prep for the consortium meeting, he should see if the people who were  interested in the refurb have got back to him.