June 29th, 2014

life is pain

Morning Moping...

Feeling very low. Got yet another frightening green striped envelope of anguish from the Council yesterday morning. Once they get their claws in, they really never let go. This time, I'm almost sure it's their incompetence to blame, but without a lot of time, support and probably money, you can't fight 'em. I just want peace. It sucks quite enough to be plunged back  into a breadline life, after a brief period of relative prosperity, without being hassled all the time. Fap.Of course, when you try to clear things up, you can never get through to anyone, they don't return calls, and yudda yudda...
Nothing on TV, either. Saw the first ever INSPECTOR MONTALBANO, which I think I'd missed, last night. I just don't care for it. I was fascinated, though, about how the length of his stubble varies wildly from scene to scene.
Thinking about my sister a lot. I worry about her health. Another example of the unfairness of life. She's five years younger than I, and even though she's spent her life 'eating clean' to the point of starving herself, and following a punitive exercise regime that would humble R Next Door, to avoid 'getting like Lee', she seems to be even unhealthier than I am.Her determination to live as a sort of anchorite, out in the boonies, with her semi-detached husband, is scary, too. She was so outgoing as a youngster. She's not even into social media,or the arts, any more, just meditation... Heaven knows, maybe she's right, but it still seems like a needlessly grim lifestyle, to me.
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Sunday Morning At Tate Britain...

A gorgeous morning in London helenraven ws rte-visiting the Kenneth Clark show, and kindly invited me along on her members' ticket. I had wanted to see it, but wasn't expecting it to be as fascinating as it was. Just Clark's life was amazing enough...Priviledge beyond imagination, almost. His childhood involved having his portrait painted by well-known artists and getting a portfolio of Japanese prints for his twelfth birthday. Then there were the  elegant London flats,and  the country houses, all studded with major works of art. Whoa! Fair play to him, though, he used his money well,and bankrolled any number of fine artists.
There was a lot of stuff I'd never seen before, and, as helenraven  said, the twentieth century rooms were the most intriguing of all. I had actually never had much interest in Graham Sutherland, not being a particular fan of landscapes, his speciality. Looking at them up close, though, there are all manner of strange, semi-visible faces and forms. There's a definite Blake influence, and the spooky mining scenes seem to have a vaguely Wagnerian theme. My impression was of a really interesting mind at work, here.Great stuff. We did a quick turn around the folk art exhibit, as well. I took a couple of snaps, but a guard came up and said I hadn't oughta, before I captured my goal, a photo of the rosy-cheeked, mad-eyed (Thatcherlike, helenraven, suggested, very aptly) blonde figurehead. Damn, I can't believe they don't have a postcard of her. All in all, a morning very well spent.
I'd intended to exercise when I got home, but I've not been feeling well at all, since yesterday. Largely psychosomatic, I suppose, but my asthma's kicking up, my joint pain is worse than usual, and I feel queasy. Also, there were a lot of kids out in the park, and I didn't feel psychically strong enough to brave any mockery. I should have gone out early and done it all before the museum visit. My bad.
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