Sleeping so well in my new bed. Restful nights but not without deep dreams. I was angry in my dream, throwing white snooker balls, and they were also thrown at me. That’s a very English anger(!) but at least it’s anger, not the pale substitutes of annoyance and irritation. I was being accused of being incapable within a situation impossible to resolve. The cause here isn’t so important for me but rather that it was expressed, something rarely done for in dream or in life, since giving up physical fighting in the early 80s. Anger has been a theme in the uni group the last couple of weeks: sociably acceptable anger vs its pure expressesion. One doesn’t allow an ending, whilst the other seems to. But perhaps after all the cause is significant, or rather where it stems from.
Meeting with dear Cory, my fellow archivist over in Ojai. He’s at Brockwood after the Frankfurt Book Fair. But the fridge engineer came right in the middle of our meeting for half an hour. Apparently the deep throbbing and compressor pop at the end is ‘acceptable’. I’ll see if it keeps sending a zapping sound through my phone while listening to music. We couldn’t get it to happen in the time he was here. LEC fridges, pretty noisy.
My blind arrived for the bedroom. Awkward putting in the bracket screws right in the recess corners but success! And it looks great in my mediation corner:
An hour in the bath listening to I’m your man by Leonard Cohen. Such intimate closeness of his voice in album closer Tower of song, it felt he was right in my head. Surprising 80s synth in the anti authoritarian First we take Manhattan, with almost funny but kind of classy backing vocals:
I’d really like to live beside you, baby. I love your body and your spirit and your clothes . But you see that line there moving through the station? I told you, I told you, told you, I was one of those .