Posts Tagged ‘Social Interaction’

Landscape

April 17, 2017

Barely raining, a troop of three of us head for Tesco Express, the route follows the line of a sheer drop, railed off by some concrete posts and thick gauge galvanized poles. Beyond is quarry which has been reclaimed by plant life, its earth consists of yellow clay and sandstone and I was told as a child that a fossil of a coelacanth had been found there. Now nettles, brambles and stickybudded sycamore trees rise above the bank, while bluebells and flame orange calendula heads laugh from the human tippage. Far below, deeper nettles, goose grass and rosebay willow-herb become one with hawthorn and spindle bushes, the blanket of spring green stretching far across the valley into the dim urban bricks and the grey feet of the Clent Hills, punctuated only by the unnaturally long white carcass of the Dudley Hospital. At least eight men must have heaved the safe to the brink of the precipice and probably ran pushing and kicking through the brambles, to make sure it landed deep into the thickets. Those same men whose destiny lies in that hospital, outside the main doors still hooked up to drips sucking on cigarettes held to their lips by their remaining mates.

Library

March 15, 2017

Looking at the spire against the cloudless blue of the first day of heat in March,

at the strange broken memorial urn with yellow sunlight streaked around its circles.

Looking for something authentically from my own motivation…

Does such a thing exist for me? Can I separate authentic motivations from motivations involved with or inspired by other people?

If I isolated these images in a film, would I be able to separate my own motivations in choosing, from connections I have with other people?

Does anyone have motivations that are isolated from the influence of other people, or is motivation intrinsically a social process? A process of intersubjective transactions?

Am I suffering from somebody else’s abusive interpretations about me being inauthentic and their association of this with my lack of creativity?

She spoke across the table: “Have you been to London?”

“Yes, we’ve been a few times, have you? Have you been to London?”

She answered: “Only the once when a policeman lifted me up, to see the Trooping of the Colour! But I’ve never been back, not all my life. It’s too expensive!”

Just as I thought about the spire, she came along the graveyard path with her enormous plaid bag, and spoke to me: “It’s a beautiful day!” I nodded yes.