New Year’s Day

Into the slog of Winter Foible strode. He braced himself for days rationed of light. The year’s final moments had fevered him with despair; the only relief a bleed of words (these words) into a tiny book. ‘Form, dammit’ he breathed at the grey air. The pared and rutted earth rippled at his step. Elsewhere movement began. He opened his eyes onto January, found it bleak and fragile, and couldn’t close them again

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Published in: on December 30, 2009 at 10:11 pm  Leave a Comment  

Not Sun But Light

 

As Sh’reem’s life began a final decay, he found himself sifting some of its moments. One image tugged a smile onto his face so he pulled it out and strapped it to the leg of a crow. He lifted the bird up like prayers and set it on its way to Foible. Foible caught it and uncoiled the picture. “Fenzied light!” he gasped, “The frenzied light!”

Published in: on December 19, 2009 at 8:23 pm  Leave a Comment  

About organisation

Here objects cluster by theme and by type.
(rather than by culture or chronology)
Here music arranges itself by stripe and trope.
(rather that by decade or (sub-) genre)) 
pattern/order/control//chaos/emergence/pattern

Published in: on December 19, 2009 at 7:27 pm  Leave a Comment  

Winterlight2

This is what the light said to Foible.

Published in: on December 17, 2009 at 3:45 pm  Comments (2)  

Winterlight

Foible sat for many days in his high room and let Winter seize him. Light was refracted by cold air and his slowing mind. It had heaved itself up onto the wall so he felt he must describe it. Very quickly words ran out. Very quickly music ran out. Very quickly thought ran out. This light must be  beyond these and all things said Foible to the wall. From its place, the light spoke back. (Inspired by MJH&FH)

Published in: on December 17, 2009 at 3:36 pm  Comments (4)  

Origin

Where are you from? they asked him.
From Cantalubrion of course, replied Foible.
I am from Cantalubrion.
That is where I was born, where I died and where I live.

Published in: on December 15, 2009 at 9:09 am  Leave a Comment  

Foible’s Father

Foible woke screaming. At the end of the bed, his mother, wringing her hands, “Your father, he’s fallen!” Whether in battle or down the stairs Foible wasn’t sure. He stumbled after her and found him on a stone floor, naked and still. Foible turned the body onto its side. The cheek was warm and rough. It struck Foible that this was the first time he had touched his father’s face.

Published in: on December 15, 2009 at 9:07 am  Leave a Comment  

17 ways to begin a journey No.2

During open-heart surgery upon Sybelle Mielle a bee flew into the operating theatre and, unnoticed by surgeons and nurses, settled inside her gaping chest. It was still there as she got stitched together. While Sybelle recovered it began to make home. After excursions to each of her sticky thumping organs the bee finally lodged in her heart. From this base it gathered nearby debris and other leavings and made a hive. Slowly it started to fill each cell.

Published in: on December 12, 2009 at 5:42 pm  Leave a Comment  

The Next Day

The next day he began to understand exactly what had happened. Although the circus was contained and happy, each grotesque member had left an imprint, a stain on the sack. This was alright. An Autumn leaf will stain a path while it decays and returns into life. Fungi will hold firm in a lawn until, un-harvested, it blackens and fades. A shout or a threat or a slap lingers and blooms in memory, but only for a time. It will always wilt and die. Foible was clever enough to know that the Cirque Des Personae would always be there, but no longer had any real power over him. As the days passed he recognised more candidates for the hilarious act. Each time one rose up, he acknowledged it then asked it politely and firmly to join the others. No one refused. Foible was too much himself by now.

Published in: on December 12, 2009 at 5:35 pm  Leave a Comment  

Cirque Des Personae

One day Foible looked inside the sack and found a handful of small plastic toys. Each one took the shape of a tiny circus performer. There were six and they were named:

  1. The Hollow Head of God
  2. Flapper
  3. Tiny Fear Man
  4. The Fist
  5. Secret Spine
  6. The Grid

So Foible upended the sack and they all fell out. Alone and disorientated the six huddled together and began to speak to each other. They discovered much in common and soon created a comedy act called, “Foible Carrion’s Cirque des Personae”. They found a tiny house to live in and each night performed an hilarious act called, “We Six are Free to be ourselves, and so now is Foible”. They were extremely successful. Foible felt the release of years. He could live once more.

Published in: on December 12, 2009 at 2:08 am  Leave a Comment