round yellow pillow

Dear Diary, on this Spring-Like Monday Morning…

The has risen on what looks like a calm spring Monday morning. The sky is finally blue outside my window, though I do not trust the storms to have halted their wet and windy parade quite yet. I feel as if they have another breath in them. It seems as if every Tuesday there is another storm, regular as clockwork, sofas flying off balcony ledges and trees randomly killing people in cars and waiting at bus stops. The underhand lack of care of Mother Nature is shocking. Bad luck, by chance, one moment here…and the next gone. I can’t make sense of it at all. There is no rhyme or reason to this weather related punishment for the industrial revolution. Do we even need all this stuff? People coped just fine without private jets, plastic shit, and all the other earth destroying detritus of the 20th and 21st century Capitalist malaise.

Still, the sun is shining, and I am remaining hopeful that all this wet and rain inspired green growth is not going to burn like a bitch come the summer. We can’t win: no rain and the parched landscape is tinder dry, a lot of rain and all that vegetation grows just ripe for the burning. The last smokey bad summer we had, when I was trapped with fires to three sides of me, and the Pacific ocean to the other was not much fun. Ashes fell from the sky and there was no air to breathe that was clean, not even with the sea just there next to me. Heaven knows how bad it must have been inland!

I have been working on a new project, some poetry, and trying not to have a breakdown over being so unwell. This week is a bad one, I have a hospital appointment coming up where they are going to try and work out just what has gone wrong with me to make my joints so bad all of a sudden and blood to be leaking from my mouth and nose, and all these stupid bruises and pin prick under the skin bleeding I have for no reason whatsoever that I can make out. I have been doing my yoga religiously, eating healthily and trying to stay positive. I am hoping that all of this can be explained by the arthritis and the celiac disease. I am in quite a lot of pain, and can’t even take an aspirin because of the bleeding.

Writing about music and culture can be a vicious game. People worship their idols and deny the fact these artists are human, with human faults in inspirations. Brother Bottle, Sister Morphine and all the poisonous rest have been partly responsible for much of the art and music of the 20th and 21st century, the ‘derangement of the senses’ as the great Rimbaud dedicated himself to, removes the artist from the chains of the mundane world and lets them fly free. Heresy, apparently. Either that or they are all anorexics, liars and pretenders. I am not fond of phoneys and fakes and those who pretend they are better than those who consume their art, but enough ranting, I am sanguine about the future of art. It might be the only thing left that humans can do that AI cannot. Those soulless creeps will never make anything that comes from the inner heart of humanity, they can’t, they are machine, not human beast.

I will eat my apple and drink my tea, and hope to make it through this week without any more disaster. It has been a parade of workmen, broken faucets, broken plates and mundane distractions. I must find my strength again, or get dipped under the waves for a good soaking. My inner fire is not out yet!

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