Lockdown day one million. Little mercies. A good walk. Will I call it a ‘Beautiful walk’ as at My Silver Street? In the beginning perhaps, on the Estate and nature in all her glory, hedging towards Autumn. Now it is the same walk, round and round. At least I still drag myself out of a virus inflicted crazy dream and little sleep state and pull on the trainers.
Beginning each day with ‘Enough, going to do this and that, change my life, change the world’ to end of day … blah. Getting the little soldiers into a plan of action.
The weekend had me in a chatroom. The Zoom Room. Chatting to family who are shedding the jumpers for summer frocks, and an Art Class; sketchbooks. Of course Karen, the moment you find a shop open with Art Supplies. you have to buy the biggest Sketch book known to man. A great big, bloody red Moleskin sketchbook. Initially the idea was sound, to put and plaster and tag and dot little pieces of inspiration. Quite the other when you have to show it to the group via webcam and cannot actually hold the atlas/doomsday book up for them to see. Memo, a little one will look so much more attractive in your handbag whilst sipping a noisette ‘a la sidewalk cafe in Paris in future. The Red peril will not fit into your suitcase.
Where the Art continues to be curious and beautiful, the book reading attempts right now, have been less so.
The painting is by Jacob Jordaens (1593-1678) You can find it in the Wallace Collection, in London. It speaks of abundance, both in flesh and nature, of plenty, of fertility and harvest. Surrounded by humans, satyrs, children (fertility) and reference to Bacchus/Dionysus, the god of wine and hedonism, the composition is one of sensuality, voluptuous abandon and lust. Lust, sex and passion. An allegory of Fruitfulness. Ripe with sex.
Poetry does it beautifully, and many novelists can engage the words with graceful imagery to evoke all the nuances and beauty of sex. Just as many get it so wrong. So embarrassingly wrong. There is even a ‘Bad sex in literature award’. I kid you not. Anyway, there is no Daunt Books close by, but dear Lord, why have the past two ‘International Best Seller’ books been sadly lacking in writing about sex in a realistic, yet magical way. Of course, the first I read had to deal with every topical subject the author could tap into; we have war, rape and revenge. Now I am trying to, with a skewering, vinegar in your eye determination to finish, has me going ‘oh dear, forgiving Lord, has EL James begun writing under a pseudonym? Have I not escaped her? Again the topical jam it all in list: dreary marriage to a cold hearted orc, jumps in the Seine, totally rescued of course, anyone can dive into the Seine with its currents and whip out the desperate – runs away, to the idyllic seaside town. Instant job, lodgings, favourite of all – late life sexual awakening, first orgasm and sjoe … the convenience of it all! Does it not reduce you to a pulp of craving for wine – it did me. So please, good recommendations for I cannot do the ‘hope it goes to Hollywood’ stuff. Amazing don’t you think, when you think of it, just how every book seems to be ‘The number 1 bestseller’ – what would happen if it were the ‘Number 4 best seller’? Oh dear … Suggestions please, or I shall revert to the classics once again (always a good thing) to read about real passion and sexuality.
Fans of EL James, by the way, you have made her immensely rich. I hope she took some grammar lessons with the loot.
Sadly, the past week, we read of the passing of Nigel. Monty Don and his beloved Nigel, which I watched religiously on ‘Gardener’s World’ – the perfect couple, boy and his best mate. They were the closest to what I believe a real home, garden and life should be. It is a long time ago, I had any of these together, and I suppose they were like a dream team – his loss will be great, for those who love the programme, but immense for Monty Don and his family. Times I think, this is what it really should be like, pushing the wheelbarrow through the seasons, followed by two faithfuls in a beautiful garden – and the nuzzling, the unconditional love an animal gives, that is the most powerful love. I hope one day, when I grow up and settle down, I will have a companion like Nigel.
In closing, I stumbled upon another unique couple. On my walk today – we have to distance and it’s rather a stop and let pass situation, complete with masks, as one does in the fresh air. Seriously? An elderly gentleman came towards me, and I stopped to allow him right of way. Walking stick in one hand, the other was held out in front of him, almost in a shield holding fashion and it was only when he was right beside me, I noticed the chartreuse, bulging eyed chameleon perched there.
I am not a fan, afraid more like. When it comes to some animals, I wish David Attenborough a long life, he can cuddle them. Yet, as I walked on, I thought of how much he must love that green fellow. The responsibility to nuture is there. Is gives sense to being. Maybe the fraught existence of sex and lust and passion has waned with every step. Maybe he still feels them all, I hope he does. We must endeavour to feel the fluttering for as long as we can.
Reflections in the water. A few Geese and Coots still visit. The birdsong is lyrical, and the tiniest weaver is in the orchestra. It is a quite and reflective time; I may not be able to visit the Galleries, but art abides. Not sure of the reaction if I meet swivel-eyed Sam, now being aware of him, but how charming was that moment in the morning? Just to find a really, really good book that doesn’t make me despair.
“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”
–“Sonnett XVII,” by Pablo Neruda
“my blood approves,
and kisses are better fate
–“since feeling is first,” by e.e. cummings
Want more words like these … be safe and plan for your own continued journey.
Till more xxx
Image: own and Bournmouth news.