by designer Ryan Thacker on www.brainpickings.org
i want to write funny and i want to be good at it.
i don't want to let you two faithful readers down.
but frankly, some days (months as it turns out) nothing happens of note.
i am weighed under an insufferable creative low.
i find his little missive (found on the fabulous Brain Pickings site: www.brainpickings.org) rather comforting:
But I am very poorly today & very stupid & hate everybody & everything. One lives only to make blunders.– I am going to write a little Book for Murray on orchids & today I hate them worse than everything so farewell & in a sweet frame of mind, I am
i try and jot down clever clog things but it's impossible.
i am distracted by the local news.
two days ago a dead white woman was found in a valley not far from here. the police can’t identify her. they sent out an email asking for help. she was found with her hands bound, a black bra, a white T shirt and one sock, bludgeoned to death with pangas so badly her eye colour can’t be determined. she is apparently around 30 or younger with blond hair to her shoulders. this haunts me well into the late hours of the night as storms flicker and rage just out of reach of the hill. images of her lying crumpled on some forgotten African plain, far from home, alone, flash with the lightning. i worry for her, for her family who don't know where she is or even that she is dead. that she died alone and terrified and abused. i worry they won’t find her killers, the killers who raped her and pangaed her so terribly and senselessly.
don’t ever dare tell me there is a god.
i share this with you, not only because it brims in my brain, but you never know, perhaps someone will read this and it will lead to some sort of redemption. somewhere.
yes, oh bestests, things are paper thin here on the hill. the poor power supply, the lack of a decent shoe shop south of the Rufiji (i'm sure they exist in Mozambique), an internet which goes on and off like a lighthouse in slow motion, storms which rain 500m away, an unsolved terrible murder all ultimately wear you down. even a strong Famous Grouse only very temporarily smudges the edges. but not to be completely outdone, i shall go and pour one immediately and see if i can spy the nearly full moon between the rainless clouds and lightning.
louise said it's terribly pretty.
i live in hope.
Kitchen Board: Wednesday 28 November 2012
perhaps i've left it too late. the lights have just gone off again. the generator is on. again.
but it's time to go and spy the rising moon.
with a damned strong scotch, i say.
toodely toot, y'all and chin chin. bisous X.X.X. skin warmin' ones. x j