Avalon

from the Dodds 

After starting on the bedroom (it's been 5 years) I was reminded of 'His Dark Materials' (Philip Pullman) and his concept of dust. Hard to get rid of the organic and with it the association with consciousness, thought, imagination, curiosity, love, kindness, beauty. Without dust we will dwindle away. 

It was too bright outside to do much inside and Vitamin D beckoned. 
As I headed up Sticks Pass I had some small but real sense, rather than an historical knowledge, of what it might have been like watching Hitler rise to power.
I will continue to abhor anodyne poetry, hopefully forever ... 

The God of War - Berolt Brecht

I saw the old god of war stand in a bog between chasm and rockface.

He smelled of free beer and carbolic and showed his testicles to adolescents, for he had been rejuvenated by several professors. In a hoarse wolfish voice he declared his love for everything young. Nearby stood a pregnant woman, trembling.

And without shame he talked on and presented himself as a great one for order. And he described how everywhere he put barns in order, by emptying them.

And as one throws crumbs to sparrows, he fed poor people with crusts of bread which he had taken away from poor people.

His voice was now loud, now soft, but always hoarse.

In a loud voice he spoke of great times to come, and in a soft voice he taught women how to cook crows and seagulls. Meanwhile his back was unquiet, and he kept looking round, as though afraid of being stabbed.

And every five minutes he assured his public that he would take up very little of their time.