Icarus @ 59 # 59

This picture was a gift from David Hockney. Well, he posted it online for only a few hours (as I remember it) and said we who knew about it could download it - so I did. I adore the colour. But I display it here because this blog started as 55 @ 55 which was supposed to be 55 blogs at 55 and then it kept going, and today I am posting 59 # 59. This year the blog is very simple, its an effort to spend ten minutes recording something every single day of my sixtieth year. My plan is to eventually print them all out as a single collection and perhaps as ten minute selections they aren't quite going to represent anything except the doodles that often they are (like this one now). But sometimes that is just the fabric of life we lead. But also, later on in my life, it will allow me to review them and think about other things that are evoked, provoked and stoked. Well that's the thought. Whatever, though, it will be possible for me to reflect on a whole year when oft-times we tend to forget some of the little things we think about. Italo Calvino addresses this in Invisible Cities and I am quite fond of this idea where... “Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.”  I have a broken bicycle, or at least a bike I currently can't ride, due to a dodgy leg, dodgy weather and stuff to do. So my target for myself is to get on my bike as soon as I possibly can - watch this space. Life is full of the ephemeral and I guess this blog proves that, but very few songwriters catch the poetic form of Tom Waits on the subject:
Broken bicycles, old busted chains
With rusted handle bars, out in the rain
Somebody must have an orphanage for
All these things that nobody wants any more...