after the heated argument with the man who was strimming the last ten centimetres of the hayfield of its last wildflower, rendering the space into an outdoor room with its neatly symmetrical finished edges and carpet of stubble, had finished, i began to feel a little unsure.
wtf was this field that he was strimming to death anyway?
i began to feel rather old school. i mean I was ranting on about grasshoppers, baby birds’ nests, bees eating flowers and the like. i ask you. he was adamant that i had got it completely wrong. no, he needed to kill all of that stuff for sure in order that the order of things continue as is. he really did. i wanted to say no, you are wrong. so i did.
then as I was walking away. i thought
he really did have nice bright blue eyes. my apocalyptic grim reaper.
then i got into these problems on Twitter. everywhere i turned i started to realise that i was being old school about it; complaining in a way that was already part of outmoded thinking, not part of the solution. incredibly. I was wrong.
he was destroying my patch of Nature stroke by stroke but where EXACTLY was the Nature he was destroying? how incredible that we had come this far; able to name Nature as separate from us, as if it were a Thing. He You Me, We are inextricably entangled into it All. we strim the field, it strims us. cut others down. at the end of the line we too are cut. that’s all.
zen-out about it. life is a lesson in dying.
This man-made, virus- ridden, plastic-entrenched, isotope-soaked landscape that is our Life. it is beautiful, it is everything, it is creating a future even whilst i write. all by Itself. i do nothing.
what could i have done but what i always do in times of existential crisis like this? i spend the next few days on the Internet. i’ve now got a reading list as long as my arm and leg. it wants to run across the floor like a spider robot from Minority Report.
be with me, I’m getting there …
deinococcus radiodurans X-P13
Gerard Manley fucking Hopkins
where the hell have i been all my life?
installing a compost toilet in my back garden.
i cannot articulate
i don’t expect to make any sense of this any time soon.