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Inbox 21. Building out the story document for unannounced PROJECT KATRA. Listening to 景 by Pool Of Light. Refusing to admit I have a notebook problem.
We get some special effects out here on the Thames Delta. They don’t always capture well on a phone camera, of course, and most of the time I just stand in the garden and watch them. But sometimes you get lucky. And last night’s light was so weird that I had to try.
Inbox is holding at 12 and I am going into this story document to see if I can make it make sense by Friday. Here we go again.
Passed through London the other night. Took this from my terrace around midnight. Tonight, I am at home, with 49°05’19,3″N 22°34’04,0’E by Strom Noir / Micromelancolié playing over the top of muted LAST YEAR IN MARIENBAD (UK) (US) on the big screen while I puzzle out the final shape of a short season of television. From time to time I look up at the luminous monochrome, and the luminous words of Robbe-Grillet. My hermit’s cave feels very equipped now, and, with the year’s bigger and more time-hungry commitments over with, I can quietly leave it from time to time and watch all the lights at midnight.
After basically writing and producing two seasons of television in 9 months, I am beginning the process of forcing myself to travel a little more. It’s been pointed out to me that 1) there will come a time when I can’t physically do it any more 2) I’ve basically been indoors working since I got back from book tour at the end of 2016. So I’m starting with an overnight trip to see if my joints still move. Luggage element pictured is from LOT 2046. Status is OFFLINE 24 HOURS.
….the heavens were a stupid blue eye…
Wayne Chambliss put me on to Georg Buchner’s LENZ, which I read in its entirely before sleep one night. Because me smart.
At last it grew dark inside him, he experienced a soft, profound compassion for himself, he wept for himself, his head sank down upon his chest, he went to sleep.
It is a speculation upon the true story of Jakob Lenz, who, having become increasingly “eccentric,” is sent to a rural location by his associate Goethe. Lenz has a complete mental break. Buchner imagines that descent into madness. It feels completely true, and is completely chilling.
In his breast hell was rehearsing a song of triumph.
It’s been described as the beginning of modern prose. I was aware of Buchner, having discovered DANTON’S DEATH as a teenager, but had never read this. Wayne put me on to it because I’d been talking about cosmic horror and this, to him, had its overtones – perhaps even its original notes. He was quite right.
Next morning he came down and told Oberlin quite calmly how in the night his mother had appeared to him: dressed in white, she had stepped from the dark churchyard wall, a red and a white rose fastened to her breast; she had sunk down into a corner and slowly the roses had overgrown her – she must surely be dead; he was quite untroubled on that account.
It’s a magnificent act of immersion in an alien mind. It has utter truth. It has real, human horror – looking out through the eyes of a man losing his mind. I’ve seen people describe reading it as transformative, and I can see why.
On the morning of the 8th he remained in bed. Oberlin went to see him; he lay there almost naked and was greatly excited. Oberlin wished to cover him, but Lenzcomplained bitterly, saying that all was so heavy, so very heavy! that he did not think he could walk at all, that never before had he felt the immense weight of the air.
Today is kind of relentless, but I wanted to make sure I logged this:
Preserved Sound is an independent record label based in Hebden Bridge in the north of England. Our philosophy is simple – to release limited edition, hand-assembled albums by artists we like.
Buying records is about more than just the music – although this matters very much to us too – and Preserved Sound hopes to make products that will be cherished far longer than their digital counterparts.
My kind of operation. Delighted to be able to support them. You can listen to their associated artists on their Bandcamp page.
Pretty much this, yeah.
Inbox holding at 13 right now. Either I kill this script today or it kills me. Or preferably someone else. Phone conference at 7pm, which is going to break my flow, and I’ve gotten Panic Status Board running on my old iPad in the stand to my left so I can keep half an eye on the time in LA. I have that ambient sense that it’s going to be A Day.
Currently listening to BLOOD TRANSMISSION by Dag Rosenqvist.
I have a copy of GEOMETRY IN THE DUST by Pierre Senges with illustrations by that lovely guy Killoffer (hung out with him in Oslo for a couple of days once, many years ago) sitting on the shelf waiting for me to be done with work.
The Senja Recordings is a collection of various outdoor recordings and studio improvisations recorded on the island of Senja, Arctic Norway, between 2015 and 2018.
Absolutely gorgeous, especially for the deep-focus work day I have in front of me. You can stream the whole thing here. And buy it. I needed a physical copy of this.