interlude

i think it's interesting that my writing goes through bouts of correct capital usage and punctuation, and then other times, its like my mind isn't interested in being grammatically correct. instead when i'm up it's all good, and when i'm down it's all lazy, or when i'm serious its all lazy but when i'm being fun i make the effort.

what's with that? coz it carries over into the title space too.

A Poison Tree

I'm reading a Phryne Fisher detective story by Kerry Greenwood at the moment, and this has led me to rediscover a schoolage passion of mine - the poetry of William Blake. Now I'm no goth, satanist or super christian, but the language and imagery of Blake just gives me the shivers. The first poem I ever read was A Poison Tree in The Songs of Innocence (1789) and Experience (1794), which dealt with the innocence and joy of the natural world, advocating free love and a closer relationship with god, and then the loss of innocence after exposure to the material world and all of the mortal sin of adult life. The thing I love most about his work, is his imagery. The short sharp but perfect lines of flowing rhythm and the almost nursery rhyme feel. His poems taunt, warn, comfort and advise all at once, twisting the way a mind contemplates good and evil. The second best thing is his art. Every poem comes on a plate illustrated by him and glows with the patina of time. In the same rustic way that pieces by William Morris touch me in their hand worked perfection, Blake is the same - just a hundred years earlier.

Are you free for a coffee?

I did an unthinkable thing tonight. You're probably hoping I jiggled the Professor but unfortunately no...instead I had a coffee from McCafe. Several years ago, during those desolate nights in interiors, I turned to Macca's to keep me awake in the wee hours, and my latte was so vile I vowed never to drink the stuff again. I remember it vividly - it was boiling, burnt and bitter. Horrible stuff, badly frothed and so bubbly you could bathe in it.

Tonight's coffee however, was a different story. Creamy, smooth and hot enough to last the walk back to campus without scalding the tongue and burning the senses. Neither did my heart pound nor my body buzz once having consumed this fine beverage (not that I need any additional stimulants where matters of the heart are concerned). Too bad it didn't really help my understanding of Logit and Probit though, but we can't have everything.

So I'm posting something I wrote while studying Literature during A-Levels. I have a strong affinity with cafe culture and a certain Coffee Bean beverage which I pine for occasionally. Sometimes Starbucks just doesn't do.

Patron of Coffee

A turn of the sign, another day
In the life of a lonely.
The door opens, and lights – on,
The newspaper arrives.

A man sits, regular in aspect,
Not in mind. His café latte,
Is placed afore him. One flick –
The cig is lit.

He is waiting, waiting for something
No one knows. A girl, a guy, a job, a day
As his latte cools – Diurnal.