Rabbit, rabbit! To inagurate the new month, I may have slept as much as ten or eleven hours. It feels extremely unfair that I should still be tired. On the other hand, I dreamed of a rediscovered short film by Powell and Pressburger, previously known to exist only in work-print fragments, although the way its characters eddied out of time in the sensible, in-camera fashion of the Archers, it seemed just as likely that the film had not been there in its canister five minutes before someone looking for a reel of something completely different in the BFI vaults reached for it. Yesterday was brilliant cold October; today is November overcast as rain. We had no further trick-or-treaters, but the door still turned in the year.
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Active Entries
- 1: The wind is blowing the planes around
- 2: I cannot feel it, the veil of black, a fine spray of white paint
- 3: I make sure there are hidden messages in my work
- 4: Pilgrimage, private life, mortality
- 5: My dream house is a negative space of rock
- 6: Your spirit watched me up the stairs
- 7: No, I'll build a cute flower border
- 8: If you don't want the death of the party after I'm gone, sing one for me
- 9: Life, a series of memorials and signals
- 10: Once you've gone, remains the question, baby
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