Re You Know What

I’m overwhelmed.
Every day I wake up to beautifully crafted, heartfelt and extraordinarily loving messages.  I draw great strength from these. But I’m overwhelmed and can’t keep pace. Too many years in consultancy, plus very good parenting from the very best parents, mean I can’t cope with being slow and bland with replies.
I know you know that, but I want to state on the record that I’m sorry.
It’s all the fault of T.E.F.  That’s the name my great pal Julia and I have conjured up for the dying mass inside. The Evil Fucker.
The grey faceless soldiers have been replaced with the sun. Weather Report’s Birdland and All That Jazz leads me to see a red target when I close my eyes under the mask. We all see it under the real sun. And for me it’s burning away, every day, at 1pm ET. And it’s doing what the sun does, giving life to me while killing TEF cells. All hail.
Enough of my incoherence. I only want instrumental music under the mask at the mo, while I eat words when freed. My very dear friend Alex Harvey is gifting me a poem daily on Facebook. Each is providing sustenance to a place in my head and my heart that TEF cannot even get a temporary visa for. But this is my favorite so far. It’s ‘Snow’ by Louise Macneice. The sun I stare into every day is so spiteful to TEF and so gay to me:
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes–
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of your hands–
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.
TEF can’t match poetry. And it can’t beat perhaps another weapon in my arsenal. Turns out I’m a weeble, aka popular 1970s toy. However hard you try to knock it down, it bounces right back up.
PS. Still feeling fine, still waiting for funding, still patient, and still being a good(ish) patient.

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