'I think all my problems with painting, my failures, arise from my not knowing or being in touch with myself at a given moment.' - richard diebenkorn, quoted in sketchbooks, the paris review 215.
well horsemouth made it to friday once again.
he solved the week (now there just remains the weekend to solve).
the weekend is marked as leisure time and so is less freighted with concepts of labour and production.
horsemouth (as you know) will almost certainly have written this blogpost on a friday and then will write again on the morning of the saturday. it is difficult to be in touch with his temporally distant self.
there is a doubling there (at least).
he goes back and he adjusts the tenses of the verbs trying to find a formulation that will ring true when it is read back at some future date.
ok so he's just (it is friday) walked into the village to pick up his mum's prescription and wandered back (two miles all told).
he saw a black labrador bounding towards him but then when he looked again it had vanished.
in the evening he read more of practicalities (and, sad to say, farted about on youtube loads). in practicalities a discussion of the text's own composition.
'... the spoken texts were transcribed, we read them over and appraised them, I made corrections and jerome beaujour read the result. it was difficult at first. we soon abandoned questions and answers. we tried a subject-by-subject approach but gave that up too. the last phase of the work consisted of shortening and lightening the texts and toning them down. it was all done by common consent.'
it is the morning (once again).
his mother is complaining of feeling cold. there is an autumnal nip in the air particularly in the mornings. no egg delivery this weekend (so no walk up the hill).
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