Some Are Here (1)

June 2nd 2013 - A Thought of The day - Dinkum (agreement) and Openating (adverb/adjective) and Mit (verb)

I’m bored!

YOU”RE bored?! What about the poor readers!?

There aren’t any.

I know, because THEY”RE bored!        

   

That doesn’t make any sense! How can readers, that aren’t, be?

Dinkum.

Eh? Ah, I get it! Fair! Never mind, look I’m REALLY bored.

Help is at hand.

It is?

It is!

How?

Thus.

Thus?

Ms Penny has opened The Tunnels Of Time!

She hasn’t?!

She has!

I thought she was in hospital.

She was.

I thought she was in a coma.

No, she was in a comma.

Well that’s good news then.

It is! She’s having an open month all June.

That’s pretty open.

I’d say! She’s very openating.

Nice, accommodating with an open day, who could ask for more?

Our readers perhaps.

There aren’t any.

We could finish there and we would have fulfilled our remit of slipping in a new word in a circular post.

We could have if you had not said that, and anyway I’m not sure it’s possible to fill up something you have mitted for a second time.

Probably not.

And I’m still bored!

Like I said – help is at hand!

How so?

Well, we do a switch.

A switch?

Yeah, you nip over there for a month and here we can let the open day open up.

Radical! But… what do we do about the fait d’hiver and the print of time organisation?

Yeah, tricky… can I think about it?

Sure.

….

…

Well?

Em, yeah, tricky. How about we say that June is a sort of special interlude, a sort of pause as spring fades, and summer fires up? A sort of breaking of the rules for 30 days that in fact goes only to reinforce them?

June started yesterday.

Yeah, true… how about a mirror post? Yesterday’s overthere , overhere, and today’s what-would-have-been-overthere, here?

That should confuse the readers.

We don’t have any!

June 9th 2013 - A Thought of The day - Nut (verb)

Do you think we’ve been clear enough?

I do! In an attempt to make the blog look different this year, and for other reasons only hinted at, I’m having a sabbatical -so all there is on the blog this year is a series of Thoughts of the Day over there which have become themed in that they have a circular format and introduce at least one new word each time, except that I’m not really having a sabbatical because there is all this other stuff, some of which is an unfolding story (it’s in a different text and colour than the other stuff and included a poem some discarded attempts of which appeared in italics for a whole month) secretly put here, or here (where a whole month was just a series of photos), or even here where we are now – which is a Thought of The Day here not there where it should be, because there, there is The Tunnels of Time – an open day in the Tunnels following Ms Peggy’s fall through the floors of the Turbulent Chambers and her subsequent recuperation in a hospital somewhere not clear which is explained partly, here and here. Yep, I’d say we’ve nutted it.

Editor’s note – to nut (verb), put everything into a convenient shell.

June 16th 2013 - A Thought of The Day - Controphony (noun), Kilometrage (noun), Wow (verb).

What do you make of all this, then?

All what?

This Ms Penny versus Ms Peggy, twin versus man, motorcycle versus lesbian controphony.

Controphony? Is that your new word, the obligatory new-word-that-must-feature-in-the-Sunday-only-thought-of-the-day-posts ever since we first had the idea in March with Orthodoxly?

Yes! A Cacophony of controversy.

I reckon it’s pretty weak as a new word - you’ll only ever use it twice.

Controphony?

Yes, and anyway, it’s not been much of a controversy, just an email in fact.

Oh yeah, and you reckon that some of the other words have got kilometrage?

There you go, already that’s better! Mileage brought up to date! That’ll catch on wait and see. Nutted was pretty good last Sunday too.

Oh ok, I’ll wow to you.

Bow to my wisdom?

Exactly. Stiil, I’m interested to hear your thoughts, is she a man or a woman.

Ms Peggy?

Aye, some people have suggested that she’s a he.

They’re just being sentimental ‘cos it’s Father’s Day.

You’re a dad aren’t you?

I am.

Did anyone say happy father’s day?

Funny that you should ask, I spent of LAST Sunday thinking it was Father’s Day and that I had been forgotten, I even wrote an email that would have embarrassed me if I hadn’t ripped it up.

Can you rip up an email?

Good point. Probably not.

So, did anyone greet you?

My son carried my bag of bottles destined for the bottle bank from the house to the car and then wandered off when it was time to smash them.

And your daughter?

She said - “Happy father’s day I was going to make you breakfast in bed.”

Cute.

Yes, I replied – “you still can”, I was in bed at the time.

Did she?

No, but I can’t complain some people don’t even get to offer a "was-going-to breakfast" Anyway, she’s revising for her philosophy exam.

What do you make of all that then?

Philosophy? I told you yesterday.  

June 23rd 2013 - A Thought of The Day  - Delusionalissimus species

Morning.

Morning.

How are you?

Fair to middling, you?

Middling to fair, I guess - if that means anything.

EVERYTHING means something, even if only the considered rejection of something else.

Bollocks!

I paraphrase my teacher of sociology.

You studied sociology?

I did, at university, but that, along with many other memories is unavailable at the moment.

Ah, and here you are paraphrasing Lou Reed.

I was, very astute of you.

So does THIS mean something?

This?

No THIS.   (here is a postscriptaly added link - the editor)

How can it? IT doesn’t exist yet.

But it’s written, it’s In The Tunnels, it may well surface soon, maybe even Monday.

How can you know that?

I see things. I hear things.

You’re delusional.

Aren’t we all?

You more than many, you are delusionalissimus, a separate species.

Takes one two know one.

Don’t you mean to?

No.

Of course it means something!

What?

Mind your own business.

Then don’t post it.

It hasn't been. Not yet.

It’s dangerous to get into cars with strange men!

This isn’t a car!!

June 30th 2013. A Thought of The day - Ooopsy.

That’ll be it then won’t it ?

Yep, holiday over, today is our last Sunday hère, after this we’ll be there and here won't be Italy either.

Hey! You’re doing that thing with the e again !

Or not, judging by what you just said and i wrote.

Weird.

Oh it’s all weird mate, didn’t they tell you that ?

Who ?

Your parents ? Your teachers ? Your Brother ?

I don’t have a Brother.

Your sister ?

She told me Father Christmas doesn’t exist.

What !? What do you mean he doesn’t exist ?!!?

Ooopsy.

July 1st 2013.

You know waht?

I mean what.

You know waht?!

damm - did it again!

You know WHAT?!!

It's the first of July, i meant to ; 1) explain how this page is called "Some are Here" because it sounds a lot like "Summer here " if you say it quickly and that it forms a third part of a series (unfinished) of pages  called "Faits d'hiver" and "Print of Time" which constitute the posts of the year 2013 (with the exception of June which turned out to be a special entitled "In The Tunnels" which you can find on part of the front page; 2) Point out how neat it was that May was full of pictures of Spain and that June was full of pictures from Venice and nearby and that July will be some where else starting today; 3) Pick up the threads of an unfolding tale of a mysterious traveller in an old hotel, or was it an old traveller in a mysterious hotel whom we left covered in snow in the corridor back in April and which is posted in normal text to distinguish it from the purple which isn't the unfolding story, least ways not that one; 4) Clarify everything else - especially the new word thingy that has started to dominate the Sunday only posts (that aren't) over the circular narrative thingy; and 5) Apologise for accidently morphing "him" and "me' in yesterday's post - something that won't slip unnoticed by our proof reader when she gets in from Canada.

But you know what

I'm too hot.

July 2nd 2013

The hill, white and shining in the lamplight, could have been enchanted.

As he raced down the sledge seemed to fly, he felt no bumps and heard no sound; the figures of those returning and climbing back to the top appeared as shadows.

The cold night air stung his face and tears fell from his eyes freezing on the front of his jacket like silver buttons.

It was exhilarating; it was frightening.

July 3rd 2013

In the rush he didn’t hear the gunshot, he didn’t hear the screams and he didn’t see the people running. 

He only saw the lake that lay at the foot of the hill and the thick ice that sparkled in the reflection of the full moon.

July 4th 2013

As his sleigh hit the ice the lake twanged and suddenly he moved even faster, racing towards the deep drifts of snow on the far bank, where the sleigh came to a stop; throwing him head first into the snow’s cold embrace.

He stood up laughing, and turned back to the way he had come.

Now he saw the people running, now he heard the screams but he didn’t yet understand.

July 5th 2013

When finally he made his way back across the ice that gave him no foothold, and struggled up the hill that offered him no balance, many times rolling back almost as much as he had climbed, his father’s body had already been taken away.

July 6th 2013

Where he had stood there was just the fresh fall of blood lying on the snow.

In the moonlight it looked like rose petals.

July 8th 2013

Someone in authority stepped from the crowd that stood around in silence and urged the crowd to go home.

Then they poured oil onto the snow and set light to it.

He stood alone watching the rose burn.

July 9th 2013.

It may not have been night, it may have been day, but in the corridor in was impossible to tell the difference between one moment and the next.

When he finally returned to room 17 Josh lay in the warmth of his bed.

As he slept the snow melted.

July 10th 2013

He was in a market place, not one that he knew but one in which he felt at home, at ease. He was selling fruit that was laid out neatly on the floor in front of where he sat. Suddenly she was there, standing in front of him asking him questions about the fruit and the price. 

The sun was behind her, strong in a late evening and she framed its light, became the light, was light.

“How is your love life?” she asked?

July 11th 2013

It’s hard to hold on to a dream after you’ve woken, impossible after a couple of days when the warmth of wellbeing that has cocooned you finally fades. 

Yet this time he knew it would be different.

July 12th 2013

He lay for a while not daring to open his eyes lest daylight destroy the tender touch of her arms in which he had lain entwined.

July 13th 2013 editor's note - technical difficulties delayed publication in some time zones.

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She had not spoken, yet the whispers of her voice nestled deep within his ear, moving like a gentle sea towards his heart;.

She had not moved, yet the graceful spring of her body left his own radiant with energy.

July 15th 2013 editor's note - technical difficulties delayed publication in some time zones.

And then he knew that he could open his eyes, rise from the bed and she would still be with him, as would the grace of her coming.

July 16th 2013 editor's note - technical difficulties delayed publication in some time zones.

But it was a dream, and even as he lustily devoured the moment he knew she was standing alone somewhere. 

Crying. 

July 17th 2013

She is trying to catch the tears in her hands as they fall on her naked feet.

July 18th 2013

When he finally awoke the melted snow lay lake-like across his room, drips fell from the ceiling above and in the corridor a small stream now flowed. 

July 20th 2013.

At the stairs to the lobby it became a waterfall and the old man stood looking up and admiring it.

“If you can fix that, you can eat for free too.”

July 22nd 2013 editor's note - i got confused, this originally got published with the wrong date

“Is there a restaurant?” inquired Josh.

“There’s everything you need here, somewhere. Just come and ask me.”

July 23rd 2013

“I’ll need a mop and a bucket.”

July 24th 2013

“Will these do?” and the old man reached behind the desk.

July 25th 2013

His mother had left when he was too young to remember her; it had been easier for her knowing that.

All that remained for him was the edge of a memory and a feeling of sunlight.

July 26th 2013

Not knowing, he hadn’t thought to ask about her and around him the people knew better than to speak, leaving him to grow alone into a youth and then into a young man.

july 27th 2013

Things would have remained this way if it had not been for the snow, a sledge and his father calling her name in a wintry night just before he died.

Standing there watching the flames engulfing the blood red rose that lay on the snow he remembered everything.

july 29th 2013

The day she had taken him in her arms and wished him secrets he could never name.

July 30th 2013

The day they had run together, barefooted through the sand.

july 31st 2013

A night they had shared watching the fog settle on the windows of the cottage as the fire spluttered in the grate.

A not-yet-light morning when he had stood on the stairs watching her leave.

August 1st 2013

Hey!

Just in case you have got this far and are wondering what is going on....

Well.....

There's an ongoing story, started at the beginning of the year, it's hidden around the place.

Stuff like this, in purple, is other stuff in between.

May - if you can find it - was also a photo trip in part of Spain.

June took us to Italy.

And July has  just been a wander around Paris.

So i thought it would be fun to keep that theme going and as it's the first of the month we should clearly head off somewhere else!

And since July started with a stadium and a bit of a "i wonder where we are?" (and a concert that will probably turn up in The Archives one day) - August should do the same.

August 2nd 2013

The closing door had made no sound as she stepped away into the frost, a frost so hard that there were no footprints to see when he went to look.

August 3rd 2013

But his tears froze as they fell into the ice where she had passed.

Holding him there.

August 5th 2013

Time can pass very slowly.

But as he mopped the sun moved from behind the mountains that had held the village in cold embrace for so long.

August 6th 2013

A bird began to sing.

August 7th 2013

And as he mopped, the traveller felt the change though he couldn’t have articulated it, and he started to whistle.

August 8th 2013

At the top of the stairs he looked along the corridor.

August 9th 2013.

He saw a river, sunlight playing on the surface of the water and an early dawn mist rising.

August 10th 2013

He wanted to dive into the deeps, to open his body to the rush of the stream to feel the water surge through him, cleansing him and making him whole.

But he knew he would drown.

August 12th 2013

So he knocked on the door.

August 13th 2013

“Go away, I am not the one”.

August 14th 2013

“How can you know,” he replied, without speaking.

August 15th 2013

But no one was listening.

August 16th 2013

And then he heard it again, like a distant butterfly’s wing, “Wait”.

August 17th 2013

Though maybe he imagined it.

August 19th 2013

He heard giggling, he heard laughter and he tried to walk away.

August 20th 2013

Sometimes he heard voices as if there were two.

August 21st 2013

But he knew she was alone.

August 22nd 2013

And he knew, with the certainty of someone who has searched, that she WAS the one - though he was as sure he hadn’t voiced it as he was sure she had heard.

August 23rd 2013

He tried to leave and he tried to stay.

August 24th 2013

He knocked again and he bit his fingers for their impatience, their arrogance.

August 25th 2013

Sometimes she opened the door, sometimes she locked it fast and though he wasn’t there to see these things he saw it all.

August 26th 2013

Forward, backward, the corridor seemed to grow longer and longer.

August 27th 2013

He walked for what seemed like days, yet still he was outside her door.

August 28th 2013

He ran, he crawled, he stumbled, he fell.

August 29th 2013

He tried to call her name but no words came; petals and blossom fell from his lips covering his feet and turned into grass.

August 30th 2013

The sweetest grass of any meadow.

August 31st 2013

And so he waited.