Recovering from internal pestilence. Oddly, a week of pain and limited ability to move, times of lightheadedness through lack of sleep has catalysed clarity of thought, renewed purposefulness, practical use of time, being productive, feeling confident, being in control. At one point, the very worst stage, at 3am one day, trying to visualise different internal organs in states of misbehaviour, when I extrapolated ahead and assumed hospitalisation, emergency surgery, lasting characterful scars, months of cautious optimistic recovery, with kind wishes and pleas to “take it easy”, “don’t do too much too soon”, “have a banana”.
As it turns out though, my usual common sense advice with medical matters, ie to ignore something until it goes away, proved to be as valid and reliable as always. Plenty of painkillers helped, even though they are supposedly bad for the organs that were briefly seeking leave of absence.
I’ve realised I’m writing in louche way out jazz phraseology today. Perhaps my mind is a little deranged at present.
Two young gentlemen entered earlier. They look a lot like the first Mark Fowler in Eastenders, plain black clothes, jeans, boots, thick curly hair piled high, pale complexion. I think they are a couple, maybe. The first Mark Fowler was written to be a fascist, in fact the actor left over concerns about his character’s development. Quite a sad story. His older brother made a slightly one-sided documentary arguing that the BBC were complicit in his eventual death. There was a clear family resemblance.
There are work developments afoot. The boy is gone, I’m encouraged to fill his shoes. A slightly clandestine meeting happened on Thursday, it felt a little like a mafia assignation, at a coffee house discussing a future that still seems nebulous. I’ve had lots of thoughts, lists to write. Questions to which answers will not immediately manifest themselves. My mind is filling with that stuff, and creativity will get pushed into a corner again. The river films are suddenly developing new life. Abstraction through isolating of elements. When it happens well they seem to develop their own sentience. Is that the right word? Resonance. It is what keeps pushing me, the uncertainty, excitement about what may emerge next. I’m envisaging a large room with projections filling all four walls, maybe overlapping. Somewhat Rothko-like. That’s what I want to be doing now. I have to stay in the job for, lets say five years, at least. It feels like a long time, I suppose because it is. Time to be financially organised, secure, all those things. At that point it will be time to make a leap into something unknown, it can’t be delayed.
Andrew Stevenson 