Monthly Archives: February 2012

Sounds of Spaces and Places – Week ending 26th February 2012 CE

Posted on 26/02/2012 by

I hint of filigree, a thread of presence folds into darkness. Like draped silk, a whisper of air folds into silence. there…/…not there. II Sounds like Ed Blackwell, and Max Roach are gi’en it laldy in the park’s municipal bin. … Continue reading →

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Levitate the Crags!

Posted on 23/02/2012 by

One of the most direct ways to immerse yourself in Fife’s liminal energies is to walk the Coastal Path. Out on the edge at the intersection of land and sea is always a receptive  place to be.  However, for the … Continue reading →

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Happenstance – 1 (19.02.12 CE)

Posted on 19/02/2012 by

Scribbling away this morning and consulting Daniel Defoe’s A Tour Through the Whole Island of Great Britain. Walking in the afternoon near the beach at Kinghorn, and thinking about Defoe’s visit which he recounts in Letter XIII.  Thoughts also turn … Continue reading →

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I Remember (after Brainard and Perec) – Nos 8-14, 11th February 2012 CE.

Posted on 12/02/2012 by

First part: Nos 1-7 8 I remember our first house in the new town of Glenrothes, Rimbleton precinct.  All the precincts were named after the old farms on which the mass housing was built.  Rimbleton streets were named after Scottish … Continue reading →

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What can happen on a walk

Posted on 08/02/2012 by

(Edit: this may not format correctly on a smartphone). w a l k m i n d b o d y s e n s e s o p e n i n g m  i  n  d     b  o  … Continue reading →

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On National Libraries Day

Posted on 04/02/2012 by

“I had no books at home. I started to frequent a public library in Lisbon. It was there, with no help except curiosity and the will to learn, that my taste for reading developed and was refined”. Jose Saramago “Libraries … Continue reading →

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Sounds of Spaces and Places – Week ending 29th January 2012 CE

Posted on 01/02/2012 by

I Piercing cry high in the sky…                                     Gone Flecks of crimson, cloud smears. Chill air cups the face. II Low growl of wind worries the bins Lids yapping like pack dogs. III Over there, fingers, da dah dah dat … Continue reading →

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