THE LOST JOURNAL 1980’s
.. . its a bailey .. . using no traditional punctuation begin .. .
.. . i think it was the enjoyment of hearing other recollections and reminiscences which gave me the confidence to take up pencil as it was then and as at other times just write ◉ i suppose the eve of sarah s birthday had crystallised the idea for me ◉ after savouring the delights of marrio s pizza house we continued the birthday treat by going on with her and friend abigail to see the film out of africa ◉ the film unfurled the tale of karen von blixen whose subdued and plaintiff memories were gently nursed into the fibre of the film in the sultry tones of meryl streep speaking with a broken danish dialect ◉ listening to the natural poetic thoughts of a kindred spirit her observations were to me like silhouettes of tree branches in the early evening dusk offset against a subtle but brilliant sunset background ◉ i was as much inspired by these thoughts as by the accompanying panoramas from which my simile is no doubt borrowed ◉ huge expanses of african landscape grew on cinema canvas before us as we sat plying pieces of peanut from our teeth and licking payne s poppet chocolate from our fingers ◉ i was sure they were the ones which would not melt in your hands ◉ i do not know how many times i had set out on this holy purpose ◉ to write carefully and meaningfully the thoughts one feels but rarely speaks ◉ the stream bubbles and splashes and is exhilliarating to view but only the delicate spray on your face confirms the viewers presence ◉ only the sense of joy the heat of summer sun on the nape of your neck and the cool of the breeze dusting your hands feet legs truly says i am alive ◉ if all the prefaces of these many classics that i have begun were condensed then surely i could have saved myself the trouble and said simply i begin ◉ i begin ◉ and if ones appreciation or is it awareness of life is our highest pinnacle then we should grasp it hold it. and never let it go ◉ and then there is the reason we should learn to read to write to understand to stand and admire so we may speak and write and recount our pleasure ◉ hoping that by recounting we may draw gently the outline of an idea in someone else’s experience ◉ or need we pull the trigger or strike the blow ◉ and if these balms medicines enemas help rid us the evil of civilisations myopia then the circle will be completed ◉ and we will stand naked still and alone as the native who never saw a pencil or a pen but has understood that he is alive and part of some breathtaking epic some intriguing tale ◉ and jesus wept
… its a bailey .. . 5 June 1986 .. . edenbraytoday
Authors Note:– I found two old journals of verse that I wrote in the 1980’s during my thirties and even younger and I was struck by their freshness and minimalist naiveté.
I have enjoyed reading them, almost as though they were written by someone else. They speak of aspirations, of faith and hope which is what I believe we all need right now. There is a nice Kerouac naturalness about them too so I’m going to put them here on my site for people to read and make their own mind up about them. Catalogued and Categorised –THE LOST JOURNALS 1980’s
Also, I am reminded of the great wordsmith and troubadour BOB DYLAN, a personal mentor and inspiration to me, who has said that on reading the early songs he wrote back in his twenties from albums like the Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan – that he doesn’t recognise the person who wrote them anymore. Of course Dylan is in fact the supreme enigma and says a lot of stuff but then we all do, don’t we?
We all metamorphosise, evolve in our appearance and the words we use but essentially remain the same. These poems, essays and thoughts were just skimming stones I hurled at eternity’s misty shoreline and in many days I have found them again. A cluster of stones, returned by the tide and left upon the stoney beach.
Different sizes, colours, shapes, some rough hewn, some smoothed by the eternal sea.
‘ . .. make up your own mind, all the time .. . ‘