and then our exile

All I can say this morning is, blatently, alhamdulillah: after a long period wherein I started to think even the fonts of construction had evaporated and left for the city, I wrote last night once more, till 12.30: five pages! I love it. I love it. It's that a part of me is more me, now that I'm reinstated on the throne of pen and verse... A beautiful throne. Woke up this morning and after Fajr skipped breakfast in favour of the pen. Not that I haven't written for months, *but rather* that all I've written has remained in the realm of prosaisms. Also, the world of minimalism once more.
It might be just the undo influence of an English assignment on some poem by Atwood, but I find I greatly, greatly like cinquains. In much of last night, I took Manicom's "Somewhere the burning must end" as a departing-point, and expanded from there.

In recent days radio has been doing strange things to me. Even when we walk into the gas station (the Laughing Llama: no joke.) where we get our water (for those uninitiated, we're too far out from the city to get city_water and can't drink well_water, so we buy it.) I'm standing at the counter waiting for the jug to fill up and suddenly--whoa. it's a cover of Cat's "the first cut is the deepest"--a bad cover, with some girl with too nasal a voice, but still: Cat Stevens! And last night, too: stopped at CKUA ("night_music") on my way back to CBC, and was hey! I know that voice! and it was Bruce Cockburn, from Charity of Night. And, two days ago, him again, doing Lovers in a Dangerous Time...

Vivaldi this morning, and some thoughts from last night:
me: we are *all* royalty.
--but that means we're inbred at some point.
me: okay, drop the point.
It wasn't what she meant, and "my" implications could be extended to the potential for royalty of the spirit, or the inherent "royalty" by virtue of the immense gift Life itself is, by definition, intrinsic to each of us as human beings, individuals, or-and even the better elements of Socratic education, but: what Lara said points to the necessity of some sort of inequity, disparity, between all (not in terms of inherent Qualities, of course, but in terms of circumstance)(if only the distinction between Bulgarian royalty and all non-Bulgarian royalty ;)... tragic on one front but exquisite in fragility, on another.
Make I any sense at all? I think I do.

Brother Bilbo, too, enters the world of blogspot! Ostensibly as a cool way of updating the world on his doings in Cairo, he's started it two months before his forecasted departure.
Who's who?

Priding myself an uncitizen, I move to the South.
~