Scottish Fiction

by Edwin Morgan

It isn't in the mirror,

it isn't on the page;

it's a red-hearted vibration

pushing through the walls

of dark imagination

finding no equation.

There's a Red Road rage,

but it's not road rage -

it's asylum seekers engulfed by a grudge.

Scottish friction,

Scottish fiction.

It isn't in the castles,

it isn't in the mist;

it's a calling of the waters

as they break to show

the new black death

with reactors aglow.

Do you think your security

can keep you in purity?

You can not shake us off above or below -

Scottish friction,

Scottish fiction.

Perhaps we'll all find the answers somewhere in time'

Something from the ether just got me thinking about Uncle Peter and then I looked through an old journal of mine back to the date when he died - it was two years ago today.

'You were out there drowning but it never showed.
'til inside a rainswept night you just...let...go.

You've thrown it all away
and now we'll never see the ending to the play:
the grand design, the final line,
and what was meant to be.

In the dark a distant runner
now has disappeared into the night -
leaving us to stand and wonder
Staring from this end into your life'

'I'm in love with the monster of the new wave'

New house.

New routine.

New experiences.

New life.

All in one week. Not bad going, Joanna.

THANK YOU, Marcus Brigstocke

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Clickery-do!

Use well the days

Yesterday I had one of the best days ever. Today decided to balance things out by stinking of tripe. But you know - life, lemons.

I'm very upset by something/someone but let's not even begin to get into that. I'd either sound bitchy or plain pathetic and I haven't quite figured out how I feel about it yet either.

There was so much I'd planned to write about in this entry but now I feel like I don't want to say anything. *le sigh*

So off I go. Three days 'til I move. And now I wish I was there already.

'she had found the sails for the following night...'

'...this town, for her, was getting way too small.'

Well, bless my boots: it's August already!

The sun - eet ees shining. It's a gorgeous day and the next week and a half are going to be extremely busy. 11 days to go. The mixed emotions! The excitement. The sadness. The anticipation. Quite frankly, I just want to go out and get right royally pissed and slur my final goodbyes to the area in some sort of pathetic stupor. Why is that? I have no idea. Go out with a bang perhaps.

In all seriousness though, I don't like being drunk these days. Tipsy: that's fine. I'm not...I'm not growing up, am I?

In other news -
Last night I spent two and a half hours blowing up an inflatable chair only to find that when I sat on it, it bore a hole - nay, a rip - and my foolish labourings had been wasted. Thanks life. You c***! "But Joanna, why didn't you check to see if there were any holes in it first?" I hear you say. Well...I...I decided it would be best - for undisclosed reasons* - to simply not look for holes in it before blowing it up. How's that? Bastards.

Hey, this non-swearing malarkey doesn't seem to be going too well, does it?

Here's a question for you: What's better than marshmallows?
Marshmallows as a surprise present!

Well, that solves that mystery.

Can you tell I'm slightly over-excited and loopy-lou today? I don't quite know what's going on! Who needs drugs? NOT ME!

I think it may well be best to end this particular blog entry before the computer explodes from frustration at my blatent overall pointlessness. Tada.

*there are no reasons :(

Not the Doctor

That's right. You 'eard.

Do not rely on me for happiness. That's just foolish.

'I don't wanna be your babysitter: you're a very big boy now!'