Sun 10 Jul 2005
OK, so I didn’t write a book review on Friday. I don’t think anyone really noticed, but in case someone did there are two reasons behind it: London & an attack of topgearitis.
Thu 7 Jul 2005
The first information about the attacks as an e-mail from a friend, who currently lives and works in London. I quickly checked the BBC’s web page with current information, which had some problems loading – clearly many more people were doing exactly the same. The tragedy is slowly taking shape.
Tue 5 Jul 2005
My mind is like a spotlight. It can focus on a dream, feeding images with its light. It can focus on a plan, bringing up connections and dependencies. It can focus on my sore butt. It can focus on a sound, shining in fireworks of branched thoughts. But it is so difficult to turn into a calm lamp, shining peacefully in all directions, not concentrated into a beam, not focused on anything in particular. And it’s even harder for the mind to shine onto itself.
My mind is like a piece of clay. It’s so flexible and adaptable. It changes so much with every year, month, week as I learn new things, picking them up like flowers while walking the path. It changes so much with everything I forget. There seems to be no limit to the shapes and sizes it can take.
And yet, it’s always afraid of the next step, next change of shape. Why?
Sat 2 Jul 2005
I stare at the screen. The cursor blinks. Ages ago someone might have stared at a cave’s wall or papyrus sheet, blank, waiting for the signs to appear. The magical signs that would transmit the joy of a hunt, the pain of a loneliness, the thrill of a discovery. And they do. But first, the story must appear in the mind. The tools in the hands have changed, the way stories surface from the sea of mind didn’t.