so the Glastonbury (Chelterish) girls, wouldn't quite get the word 'languid'...as poor things mummy only ever bought them a Wutherin' first edition for their twenty first....
languid dreamysish is the superb arthouse film of the French 'new wave' - especially Eric Rohmer stuff like his Green ray, and then Mister Polish French made Trois Coleurs..... all descended though they would probably be too Chelsea Artschool chic or pumped up Pompidou to know, from the best of all culture ever the dreamyish rusticish books of Missey Elliot into Edith's Ethan Frome and Summer and perhaps the king of the simple scene in a coffee shop or launderette Master Herb Bates...
I could transplant every single word in one launderette in one afternoon into his languid jjst meander through a family of interesting youngish women book
Even if his Poacher i reckon the best or Stella Ho.... wjhere nothing ,much happens and the writer is a sort of observer looking over the shoulder of a hungry bloke on long walks in the former and the latter he observes it a big house disintegrate over a long period or time..
cos all the inhabitants think Jane Austen is anything other than Eastenders for posh birds, with nothing to say except say something loudly, and the real bible theyre addicted to under the bedspread and candleheadtorch is Wutherin' where psychodrama can't be fixed by a good days hard work on The Moors OUT IN THE SUN so its always going to end up some psycho deathbed scene and a jolly good haunting afterwards as someone needs to be BLAMED!
.....so as civilisation ends which it has as a few hundred years ago even the tramps read the odd penny novel or sometimes even good ones... as they had nothing else to do except thus become dfream-state languidish as years of nothing much to do as all the local pubs full of nasty ex SAS madmen no tourist guide to The MArches will tell of
(nirvana was the days of the Rough Guide - they were honourable and true and knew telling it like it is is not bullying a whole town of precious twats only intent on fleecing the rich traveller-shopper... the RG cared, about reality rather than fantasy, all the SW, all The Marches became...i bet modern dap guides don't even mention be really careful all around the Pasty toe as if the Indiana Jones attired coke wholesalers round there pretending to be great good eggs especially places like St Just see a new person in town with old backpack my ohh my they virtually stalk you wondering if you are a scout from some neighbouring London organised crime syndicate trying to muscle in ...fact not fiction)
Anyway back to the point, a life of little distraction, impossible in the modern metropolitan life, enough worldliness to love Frog films... and learn from them - ponder AN OTHER for real other than the fake version forced down the necks of the English via what has become as MAoist an educational system as Mao himself .... you cannot 'teach' empathy...or feelings... only provide the next gen - anyone under about 45 i guess, with more weapons to attack each other (" ohh you are in my personal space and are manipulating my precious little feelings" i know is the language of all the SE that rolled out through Brighton even Somerset up into the Cotswolds all the SW ...so as to colonise all that isn't just an honest days work in rural areas with any excuse not to.... and i am not stupid uk GDP from farming 0.6%.... but what ARE these 'service' industries.... ? well the clue is in the f word.... " unless my nails are all multicoloured paintted on by a Vietnamese slave who doesnt know English other than to mirror the painted on smile, i wont feel nice....."
None of my business but seemingly almost everyone else's...
However.... all i care about narcissistically is years being nobody nowhere and only some great earlier literature (in UK ceased around 2005 probably before.... Wendy Perriam maybe Deranged Marriage i forget her name .... had it partly.... none of these awful men Amis Faulks ehhh McCewan ever had it as theyre all basically Ruperts who couldn't get a job driving tanks in the army as they spent a bit too much time with the headtorch even if they werent invented in the 70s or 60s when only the smart alec 'incrowd' teenagers could get hold of the porn mags im sure they were addicted to even then..they adapted into a form of self ....pity-porn.. which is all Amis's tough madman Keith ever was ....just another form of self pity as poor Mart addicted to some notion of Empire his dad had lost....
Anywya back to the point ahh yes now ... great novels just take you to languidish states and enough of them maybe you only need 5 or 10 over a decade.... makes you see life as if in one... and its nice and useful - one can stand back as Bates perhaps the master of and just see everything philosophically from a fly on the walls view...and also listen.
And be unaffected by all affectation everywhere...
so in one day well i cant relate the first encounter in case she googles me....
and one thing i know for sure anyone ion the lanyard class even if they went to a 'free speech' benefit gig once in their appalling Bristol Leeds Uni past uneducation....doesnt know that FS means always and theres nothing wrong with noticing a curious incongruity around the lips....and turning it into part of a dreamy day just viewing
anyway skip ff to charging up.... and i am NEVER interrupted but she did damn her with her churchy nonsense that almost as if a gift from her above propelled me to the next socket....
And a magnificent honest woman ! the two of us at
in a bit picture - and it works
... and she IS in charge of it - the SCIENCE of their not very impressive Moors!
" yes i know the ecosystems of them there my 'ills are ALL FUCKED..." not a bit, but ALL...
And she is in charge of the history of the science of em....
what a fabulously refreshing encounter the ONLY one made me instantly only happy - as leaning in to all the nutjobbery is the only job in town...
it makes you able to...persist....
not be 'resilient' another made up newword that does the opposite in fact as if you fail somehwhere down the adventure playground assault course you dont half stab yourself in the eye with multiple screwdrivers out of self hatred for not being 'resilient' enough...
nope...persist thats all one can do....
and only one woman has really really ....
hmmm....
not only summed up all Bovarian cancer - nothing much changin for 200 odd years since 'god' was supposedly replaced by something sane, nice try failed...their god only ever bling or the RIGHT to be reserved for reserving some bling down the line if they change their .... stated values or even whole persona.....
..with her "i don't wanna be a cleanin lady..."
but you gotta dream
and even if i told the noseringed wonderful 22 year old who interestingly told me there is NO good music since her t-shirt with the fake Armenians onnit....
she seemed to agree " Stevia...look at the 'stevie in a miniskirt' one on Da Tube....she was the first punk before the feyboys of punk stole it from her.."
as i shall never drown where i want i better find a river as nobody got the guts to undo the laces
Anyway back to the point.....
An achey Ollers.... "ts all fucked..." but then why, comes next....but nobody will get it if you havent read a fair few languid dreamy intelligent novels when people once could...as thats how you have to see/hear the whole perfect afternoon of all coming to crystal clarity
