This will be a day for a dual purpose notebook. Up-ended: personal notes in longhand. Reversed to the standard side: notes from a work session on the latest concerning legal rights and hurdles for asylum seekers. With a choice of an early bus or a late one, I opt for the early. A morning of Albi bookshops and library on my own. Afternoon and evening with opinionated others. Someone has offered to drive me home since, if you don’t own a car, you don’t stay in Albi past five o’clock on a Saturday – unless you plan to sleep over until Monday.
Aldous Huxley, Antic Hay. Chapters XII, XIII and XIV, read last night after an obligatory passage at the local cinema for an exhibition and the showing of three short animation films. Followed by the slow walk home with a fictional character or two, searching for the crumbs of experience on which to feed. Would this character accept to go down without protest? Would he or she fold and disappear just before winning the prize? How would he or she limp on when all possible roads had been explored, and the garden maze kept leading back to the same spot?
Voilà, more or less, where the proto draft stands at the moment. Plus one bit in Chapter XIII of the book mentioned above. “Irrelevant, irreverent, out of key with all that has gone before. But man’s greatest strength lies in his capacity for irrelevance.”
True? False? I don’t know what my characters have to say about it. I guess I’ll find out.
* if applied to the upstairs neighbor’s singing, this should read: astonishing consistency in flat-off wrong key to the same, very same song at least three times of day. (I must acquire a pair of headphones.)