songofcopper: (pensées mauves)
Library Encounter of the Day: I was sitting there, minding my own business, clearly engrossed in reading/note-making, and also wearing big fat ‘pls go away’ headphones. Nevertheless, a man I had never met before made a confident beeline for me and started asking some unintelligible question (unintelligible because I could understandably hear more of Tangerine Dream than I could of him). I half removed the headphones and caught some quickfire babble about what sounded to my ear like ‘Camembert’, though who knew… the man (he sounded Spanish) was trying to explain what he meant, but I was in too much of a daze to work out what he was saying.

Fromageries )

*

I am frequenting the Library a lot these days, whilst we have our kitchen redone. (No, I don’t want to sit at home and supervise through clouds of dust, drilling noises and frequent tea consumption.) Though I wish it looked and felt more like the libraries you see in Dario Argento films, rather than a spick and span modern municipal resource, it is not a bad place in which to loiter in a semi-productive way. And it’s always busy! If you go away to have lunch and then come back again, it is hard to find a seat in the study-room. (On a related note, those chairs… those chairs are hard.) Listening to music is, alas, necessary, because it’s on a sort of mezzanine, and noise from downstairs is audible (along with every phone-susurration, coffee slurp and deep, heavy sigh from other patrons).

Laptops are everywhere - not many people make actual notes with a pen, and those that do often have a laptop as well. Most of the people in the room look to be students (A level or undergraduate), aside from the occasional Library Habitué - there’s one chap who wheels in a huge suitcase and sort of sets up camp. At first I thought he must be killing time before his train, but I’ve seen him several times now. This is, in my opinion, a vital function of libraries. For all that they ought to be places of information, learning and literature, they must also be… places to sit and stew, especially for those who may not have anywhere else very pleasant to go. They must afford the sort of equality that allows learned professor, bored student, weirdo conspiracy theorist, suburban dilettante and sheltering itinerant to sit next to each other peaceably.

*

I have to report that I am yet again fatally allured by shades of mauve. It’s a melancholy business: rarely, if ever, do I feel even slightly curious about people who are alive and knowable. It’s always the semi-obscure, the evanescent, the defunct, the extinct, with me.

Adoring Alastair )

*

All this gives me to think on what I am to do with myself - how I am to express the (seemingly) inexpressible. Always, half my will bids me hide, whilst the other half cries ‘Parade!’ The first option is safe in one way but very, very hurtful in another: not to be known, not to be seen, not to be sensed, is lonely. Loneliness is excruciatingly safe. The only person who can hurt You there is yourself, and You are the best at doing that. Worse, this way You are letting down all your fellow invisibles - every person who might take heart at seeing You take brave shape before the world’s eyes.

But I’m doomed to diffidence. How much certainty does it require, to feel that You have the right to Describe Yourself? Though sometimes other people’s honesty is inspiring, at other times it’s a muzzle. Don’t want to detract from their moment. Don’t want to seem to mount the bandwagon as it trundles by. The saddest words in the English language are not ‘Too Late’ but ‘Me Too’.

Words, indeed, are perhaps the problem. I want not to need them, in this case. I am not an answer: I’m a question, a wordless question. Trying to frame the thing in speech or text is a fool’s errand. What is wanted is some way to make manifest that question, to stop asking it myself and let other people ask it instead. That’s it: that’s it, exactly. I present people with a false certainty, a drab obviousness that is a lie. They should look at me and not know what to think. And in destroying that lie, I do not want to hand out an explanation that no-one has asked for. I would rather hand out pure beautiful honest confusion.

*

Here’s a question that I shall happily answer, or try to. Ages ago I asked for writing prompts and then (despite my fair-to-middling efforts, offstage) failed to respond to one from the esteemed [livejournal.com profile] in_thy_bounty. So I requested an alternative question, and here it is:

“If your personality were a fabric, what would it be?”

We mortals weave ourselves )

{That was a fine question. I thank you for it.}

In the Pink

Saturday, 12 March 2016 17:56
songofcopper: (fred)
This Friday I’m tasked with saying a few words to introduce a film showing. (Film club time again!) I think my words shall indeed be few: rather than loose off a tirade o’trivia, I’ll just share a few brief personal impressions. Let’s face it, any old so-and-so can look up trivia on the internet (in other words, do it yerself, fact fans). Besides, I’m not an expert (on any topic, least of all cinema!). All I can bring that is mine alone to give is… my perception. *flutters ridiculous quantities of eyelash*

Yes, well, anyway - the film I’ve picked is one I’ve seen numerous times, but not very recently - and I’m not going to re-watch it in advance of the showing (I want to anticipate enjoying it again, in company, rather than taking a Mastermind-specialist-subject-revision approach). It’s one that has a distinctive look, a mischievous sense of humour, and stars some of our most beloved Silver Screen Luminaries. It’s silly and frothy, but does dip a toe into potentially-serious notions of identity, personal authenticity and the masks we wear for one another and ourselves. (Plus, it’s a musical. I imagine that may divide opinions right there.) My title of choice is ‘Funny Face’, starring Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire.

Just now, rather than elaborate a comprehensive overview of the film in this, my own cosy little corner of the Entirenet, I have it in mind to plumb a tangent inspired by one of its songs. Namely, ‘Think Pink’.

Pink to Make the Boys Wink )

Bibliotheque

Thursday, 18 December 2014 15:10
songofcopper: (le dauphin de kobaia)
Inspired by [livejournal.com profile] goldmourn's tantalising bookshelf photos (tantalising because bookshelf photos make you want to reach through the screen and check out those volumes!), I thought it was about time I posted a few of my own.

Books (and other things) on shelves )

Identities

songofcopper: (Default)
songofcopper

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Eavesdrop, snoop, and sigh with yearning…

This journal is not a private diary, it is more like an occasional, imaginary column. Therefore, much of it is on public display. However, if you want to read my occasional attempts at creative writing, my Caution Elf tells me I should only show that stuff to my friends. You know what to do. :-)

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