further jumble
the jig saw puzzle of memory and
life
and wondering where it all fits in the general
scheme of things i set out struggling with guitar, two small rucksacks, a coat
and the drizzly and dark morning which is the definite herald of The Real World,
of the death of the summer. Drive all the way to Surrey, to find i can't teach
because of a power cut and will have to do it all again on friday... so move on
to the next thing, more teaching, more
driving.
Sleep, perchance.. sleep would be good. The day stretches long ahead of me, though, I wonder, sitting here doing this work which i do like but still a ball and chain nonetheless, what the purpose of this all may be. Except there is probably no purpose. The whirlwind of the cosmos unimaginable spins above and around us, unthinking, uncaring, the blind dark machinery burning itself towards nothingness in its furious blaze, with us trapped in our insignificant part of it, reassuring ourselves that it all was created for our sake, that there is 'somebody' out there that built the infinitely large and complex machine of the universe for our benefit and that we'll trascend our current insignificance and outlive it, or that we can be clever enough to decode the meaning and sense of the vast infinite thing that surrounds us and of which we are part...
in the meantime i drive back home, wearily make a couple of phone calls to placate creditors, set out again for more teaching, go to goth club in the evening but at that time it feels not like an enjoyable pastime but more like a duty, something that has to be done, not something that, by the time i've finished teaching after having got up before 6 am, i can possibly look forward to.
After this, sleep is brief and light, then it is time to get up again and go through it all one more time... like now, under the leaky skylight that drops rainwater onto the harpsichord -and how many times i've mentioned this over the years to the people responsible for this and it still is there; D. plays his exam pieces, a rare case of enthusiasm, he can get to play if he doesn't get bored with it in two years' time when he discovers girls and the world outside...
... and so i too characterise and perhaps typecast another human being based on informal statistics, on what i have learnt to expect over the years but can that make it a valid judgement of the multiplicity and complexity of a person.
and, can you play again the last three bars on the second line, please while i doze off and i'm not even half way through my teaching day. I'm so sleepy that i get flash backs of long forgotten memories or vistas, the view of the mountain from my mum's window, the one that gave to the kitchen, or reading in that same kitchen while water ran outside in little rivers down the stairs, still falling furiously from the angry skies which still spew thunder and lightning -and then it's the bell, have a good week see you next week, you have to practise a little more of this and this because your playing was a little weak there, this other thing was very good, well done, see you later...
more iterations of this follow one another through the day until i finish and it is time to drive home again knowing that tomorrow i'll have to do it all again...
Sleep, perchance.. sleep would be good. The day stretches long ahead of me, though, I wonder, sitting here doing this work which i do like but still a ball and chain nonetheless, what the purpose of this all may be. Except there is probably no purpose. The whirlwind of the cosmos unimaginable spins above and around us, unthinking, uncaring, the blind dark machinery burning itself towards nothingness in its furious blaze, with us trapped in our insignificant part of it, reassuring ourselves that it all was created for our sake, that there is 'somebody' out there that built the infinitely large and complex machine of the universe for our benefit and that we'll trascend our current insignificance and outlive it, or that we can be clever enough to decode the meaning and sense of the vast infinite thing that surrounds us and of which we are part...
in the meantime i drive back home, wearily make a couple of phone calls to placate creditors, set out again for more teaching, go to goth club in the evening but at that time it feels not like an enjoyable pastime but more like a duty, something that has to be done, not something that, by the time i've finished teaching after having got up before 6 am, i can possibly look forward to.
After this, sleep is brief and light, then it is time to get up again and go through it all one more time... like now, under the leaky skylight that drops rainwater onto the harpsichord -and how many times i've mentioned this over the years to the people responsible for this and it still is there; D. plays his exam pieces, a rare case of enthusiasm, he can get to play if he doesn't get bored with it in two years' time when he discovers girls and the world outside...
... and so i too characterise and perhaps typecast another human being based on informal statistics, on what i have learnt to expect over the years but can that make it a valid judgement of the multiplicity and complexity of a person.
and, can you play again the last three bars on the second line, please while i doze off and i'm not even half way through my teaching day. I'm so sleepy that i get flash backs of long forgotten memories or vistas, the view of the mountain from my mum's window, the one that gave to the kitchen, or reading in that same kitchen while water ran outside in little rivers down the stairs, still falling furiously from the angry skies which still spew thunder and lightning -and then it's the bell, have a good week see you next week, you have to practise a little more of this and this because your playing was a little weak there, this other thing was very good, well done, see you later...
more iterations of this follow one another through the day until i finish and it is time to drive home again knowing that tomorrow i'll have to do it all again...
Posted: Mon - October 6, 2003 at 09:47 AM
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Published On: Jul 08, 2005 02:13 PM
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Published On: Jul 08, 2005 02:13 PM