past, past

Isn’t it wonderful to discover the obscure, the forgotten, the sidelined creators and then one finds that though they are not part of the mainstream (thank god), yet they are still in their own ways, heads of a large movement. They are a counterpoint to pop culture. Which is in itself, sometimes, a reason to celebrate. Today’s focus is on Alberto Giacometti and specifically a painting of a small ship unmoored on a Swiss autumn night which I chanced upon approximately oh, eight years ago.

There’s something similar between phillip Pullman (dark materials trilogy) and ayn rand. I think its because of the whole overthrow-God plot and the same energetic way of writing, as though they were both striving upwards, for the best in man, the heroic.
I don’t know. I am probably babbling.

There’s so much to do and I wish I had the energy of ten men to keep going, keep exploring, keep working, keep creating. But last night I slept for 12 hours straight, embarrassing but true. I’d like to think that it’s because I use up so much energy during the day, but really it’s because I am soporifically lazy.

I miss taking the boat on the River Thames from Canary Wharf to the Savoy. Especially on cold winter evenings, as we pass the London bridge, the docked warship, the restaurants on the right bank, the massive modern FT building, along the grey, lamplit waters. And then getting off, huddled into one’s coat, loving the feeling of the galeforce wind cutting into your bones, up the ramp, crossing the Embankment and walking up into the Strand.