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| Sunday |
Today I nearly bought a jumper and a shirt I really liked but didn't, should I have? I suspect yes - indeed I saw two jumpers I liked and what's £200 when you are a prof, but I didn't. Is it because I am still hiding behind my guitar and because the guitar is more authentic than the pleasure of a new clothe? Perhaps I shied from the consumer fetish with a chiding heart. I am reminded of Auden when he writes:
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
A new jumper is not a good exchange for art; for art communicates life's values better than a jumper can - consumerism meets the artistic gesture - but oh, I sigh. They were such lovely jumpers and I felt like Mina in Dracula saying, 'why can't I have them all?' Why indeed. Someone once wrote: 'Art can never ever deliver that massive personal shock, but it can act as a dripping tap, an ongoing reminder that things are not as they might be.' Of course, ultimately a jumper is just a jumper. And then I was thinking, well a boy has to wear something while the tap drips! Indecision reigns, am I being flippant in my desire for the ephemeral cashmere that will bobble and fray while art lasts for ever as a trace of ideas and experience - alas, too late, the town is closed, the shop is shut, the day is ended... this is how it begun:
Subday is the new Sunday,
not quite a Monday
and definitely not a Saturday
but its always hard to call.
What kind of day should it be,
a last day before work day,
a last minute shop day,
a last minute work prep, iron the shirts, stock up the fridge with food for those who can't cook but must eat through the week day,
it’s a sigh day, a must I day,
an I should day,
an I could but probably wont day,
another sigh day.
Sunday, such a subday,
sometimes,
but bring it on.
It might be a jumper day but then again not...
as the thread gets tangled and snagged
on the bramble of an aesthetic thought day
