I just can't rely on you...

Cheap clothes, bad sets, phenomenal cast. Watching the slow moves of BBC2's Wolf Hall production.

Listening to: Paloma faith MK remix  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwWqq3uC_bc

2 hour commute..

Venus Frigada by Paul Reubens

Umbrella moves..

 © MB

Listening to: Rumi gift of love.
https://play.spotify.com/album/4sYQbEO57on9DEodn4vs6k

Recovery weekender...

Sarah Moon.

Meh...

This has been a dark and beleaguered time so far, with seemingly little or no light in the world. Paris is ablaze, conspiracies and confabulations lay hold stirring up equal amounts of incredulity, fear and hate; and we, the little people, trudge on not knowing what any of it is for- caught up in this maze of horizontal counterfeits, miss-deeds and  cast shadows; spirits and hearts in sharp recoil, front row spectators as the is earth body-slammed to the ground.

It is as if we have finally met ourselves in some belly of a monster, it's subtle energies dissolving and misshaping everything- even hope. 
These are low-down, ill-gotten days; and for the first time it feels as if there is no help, that somewhere amidst the darkness even the angels have taken heed and fled.

This bleak, dark feel to the year is a new feel for me, like being stranded on some last bridge in a hard surrender, a place where you know all will eventually be lost.

As a species we take heavy steps on broken choices, the detritus of our beautiful planet, littered disagreeably on the ground.
These battle times have us piling up our dreams - walking on glass; as hope lies cut to ribbons, crushed under foot, dashed. 

And God stays distant, musing on, as this little experiment of his in this backwater outpost of eternity lurches ever erratically on. Battling bravely we single-handedly grapple with the dark,with no way forward but forward. ( And alone.)

So I cautiously wait for this year to break, and for the drawn daggers of the mad monsters to reveal their hand and finally name the horrific, inevitable last tune to which we must all dance.

But all the while I hope..that sword drawn, dressed up in shinny Armour, secretly off camera - waiting, there's a fearsomen gleeming Savior about to enter ( even if it was only us all along) MB

Ground to dantien... ( divide and conquer)

" Toward the end of the Reconstruction era, something very significant happened. (Listen to him) That is what was known as the Populist Movement. (Speak, sir) The leaders of this movement began awakening the poor white masses (Yes, sir) and the former Negro slaves to the fact that they were being fleeced by the emerging Bourbon interests. Not only that, but they began uniting the Negro and white masses (Yeah) into a voting bloc that threatened to drive the Bourbon interests from the command posts of political power in the South.
To meet this threat, the southern aristocracy began immediately to engineer this development of a segregated society. (Right) I want you to follow me through here because this is very important to see the roots of racism and the denial of the right to vote. Through their control of mass media, they revised the doctrine of white supremacy. They saturated the thinking of the poor white masses with it, (Yes) thus clouding their minds to the real issue involved in the Populist Movement. They then directed the placement on the books of the South of laws that made it a crime for Negroes and whites to come together as equals at any level. (Yes, sir) And that did it. That crippled and eventually destroyed the Populist Movement of the nineteenth century.
If it may be said of the slavery era that the white man took the world and gave the Negro Jesus, then it may be said of the Reconstruction era that the southern aristocracy took the world and gave the poor white man Jim Crow. (Yes, sir) He gave him Jim Crow. (Uh huh) And when his wrinkled stomach cried out for the food that his empty pockets could not provide, (Yes, sir) he ate Jim Crow, a psychological bird that told him that no matter how bad off he was, at least he was a white man, better than the black man. (Right sir) And he ate Jim Crow. (Uh huh) And when his undernourished children cried out for the necessities that his low wages could not provide, he showed them the Jim Crow signs on the buses and in the stores, on the streets and in the public buildings. (Yes, sir) And his children, too, learned to feed upon Jim Crow, (Speak) their last outpost of psychological oblivion. (Yes, sir).."


Martin Luther King jr​

25 March 1965
Address at the Conclusion of the Selma to Montgomery March

Visceral uterine response...

I think my ovaries just exploded.


Sean Cheetham.

Walthamstoic..

©  MB

© MB

Paris match... ( No blood )

She's flat against the prism
defiant paint in creative ways. 
And the moon looks on
rising in cool splendour. 

~ graffitier redux.  MB

Oriol Angrill Jorda...

New year volatility-paralysis syndrome... (Reasoning away oxford)

 

No impetus in this distorted dantien smog of times 
got nothing but these waiting, flaking days...
meanwhile Gold's up.   MB

Shungite retrieval 

© MB ( with Graffiter)

These dark days...

1923 portrait of Picasso's first wife Olga Khokhlova - Picasso





'Woman's Head'



Boy With A Pipe -1905


'Still Life With A Cake'-1924



Picasso's granddaughter

Fighting the year...

With no one thing to look upon
we seep down to the broken line
the place of scuppered weeping. 
The limbs are weak as the tide breaks in 
and darkness in it's corner unfurls a steady hand. 
Oh! the press of light gone empty.  MB


© MB