tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185Sat, 17 Dec 2011 04:06:34 +0000spaceJohn BergerDurasanimalsDirtLacanmetaphorsignaturedeathmelancholyimprovisinggardensreaching homeGershwinbirdsNelly Sachspeace campmishapshomelessYi-Fu TuanTouareg people; nomadic people; home; walls; skyfreedomhopeorphan trainshomeshelterprotestFoucaulttownsgraveasylumsducksbreadsuper 8warsChernobylunnameabletableclothpastdoorsimpermanenceMaratJonahwomencrossgossipHesseGreenham Commonroundexileslowsocial geographyintimate spacestately homesruralmemoryBlanchotriverBuddhismJacques-Louis Daviddrinkingthe firesnuclear disasternetworksaporiashellscoffincravingBachelardfrogsskinthe desertretreatmatchboxeshistorypowerVirginia Woolfgeographyrailwayplacecollectionswebslocalsarchitecturetreelovehttp://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.com (T.)Blogger39125TheLineForHomehttp://feedburner.google.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-2674408461174694574Sat, 17 Dec 2011 04:00:00 +00002011-12-17T15:06:34.231+11:00lovehomeanimals A man is his own worth enemy It's hard to decide how much you're worth. What is clear is that there are rich men and poor men in the world, and that there are degrees of heterogeneity between, as well as within, each group.Everyone knows that a man loves what makes him proud and upright. Whatever it is that makes him bigger and better and stronger and greater. All the things a great man is, http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-does-man-love.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-1301773879929097794Wed, 30 Nov 2011 02:19:00 +00002011-11-30T14:19:40.633+11:00impermanencesignaturedeathcrossgardensI left home a bit early yesterday so that I could go by the old cemetery and take a photo of an (preferably) unmarked grave.  I wanted a photo that I could put  with a post about an idea I had the day before.  I was thinking about the signature and especially about the signature of an illiterate person - the cross. It occurred to me that what we sign, remains. It's not just a very physical http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2011/11/unmarked-graves-and-free-food.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-3197578509219535210Sat, 19 Nov 2011 10:32:00 +00002011-11-30T13:50:14.103+11:00slowIt was raining most of the day.  I tried to photograph the raindrops falling from the giant walnut leaves but couldn't capture them.  Instead I looked out all the other windows in turn and took photographs from some of them. I made an eclectic music mix for christmas and mucked around with iMovie. P. listened to Sherlock Holmes on audio books. I. came over to deliver some work for P. and http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2011/11/rainy-day.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-3329495803213905550Fri, 01 Apr 2011 08:31:00 +00002011-11-30T13:56:30.306+11:00coffingraveTouareg people; nomadic people; home; walls; sky Someone told me of an old Touareg saying today,  The house is the coffin of living people It makes me wonder what life would be if there was nothing between me and the sky and the world. How would my skin feel? What would I know? Who would I share the world with? http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2011/04/house-as-membrane.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-385604323896774999Mon, 17 Jan 2011 02:23:00 +00002011-01-17T14:13:53.561+11:00networksgossiptownswebssocial geographyruralI have been away from here for a long time. We have just returned from camping and find the world wet with floods. There are rivers where there were none.  We slipped back into town and I had an idea to remain in hiding for a few days by avoiding announcing our arrival just yet. But we had to go to the supermarket and aha and alas- we were spotted.  By the time I got back up the hill an email http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2011/01/they-speak-me.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-2312547293324162156Sun, 11 Apr 2010 07:42:00 +00002010-04-11T18:02:31.862+10:00Nelly SachsshellsplaceThis weekend I found what I think is a striking description of place. In a letter to Paul Celan the German-Swiss  poet Nelly Sachs writes: "When great weariness besets me I think of Paris and Dresden, both shells for the most beloved of people" (Celan lived in Paris while her great friend Gudrun, who had saved the lives of Nelly and her mother, lived in Dresden)   from Paul Celan Nelly Sachs http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/04/place-as-shell.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-4080154260049452395Mon, 22 Mar 2010 07:31:00 +00002011-11-30T13:53:29.783+11:00 I have been away from here for awhile, moving home. Sorting, discarding and giving away things, then packing  everything up and moving it all to another place.  I wish I was more like a snail. http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/03/moving-home.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-2264814769064082119Sat, 20 Feb 2010 02:03:00 +00002010-02-20T13:39:59.724+11:00 ‘The Death of Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau’ (1793) by David <!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment-->http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/02/missing-painting.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-6286832482665256894Sat, 20 Feb 2010 01:40:00 +00002010-02-20T13:41:52.447+11:00MaratBlanchotaporialoveJacques-Louis David In 'The Infinite Conversation' (Theory and History of Literature). Blanchot writes: "The book: a ruse by which writing goest toward the absence of the book." (p. 424) Why is this idea, the idea of absence, loss, something missing, so attractive? . <!--StartFragment-->Because it propels desire in all the ways of desire, because it has the shape of something of some of us. Is it a beautiful http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/02/being-at-loss.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-2244269521671901962Fri, 05 Feb 2010 12:47:00 +00002010-02-05T23:52:11.857+11:00bread Peppino Gino Mangravite's "Tomorrow''s Bread," 1939Yesterday I kneaded two batches of pizza dough, but I need to make bread. I need to fill the house with the scent of making, as if we will stay here forever, as if everything is safe and solid and momentary and warm. http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/02/making-bread.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-6065168870526203013Tue, 26 Jan 2010 11:46:00 +00002010-01-26T23:08:45.320+11:00the desert   Seven miles I walk until your tracks are gone there is no one to followand no reason to fall down in the still place of the ellipse in the desert place of the integer in the exiled place it howlsall clean bonesand uncannymicroscopic flowers EOSnap of Murray-Sunset and Wyperfeld National Parks from Chelyshttp://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/01/desert.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-8476921809992564213Mon, 25 Jan 2010 13:48:00 +00002010-01-26T01:00:32.874+11:00 The Murrumbidgee river I've had the last few lines of the chorus of this old Australian folk song in mind this morning.Does anyone remember it? The Road to Gundagai by Jack O'Hagan, 1922 There's a scene that lingers in my memory, Of an old bush home and friends I long to see; That's why I am yearning Just to be returning Along the road to Gundagai. Chorus: There's a track winding back To an http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/01/theres-track-winding-back.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-1879553179620430539Fri, 15 Jan 2010 15:10:00 +00002010-01-16T13:56:46.015+11:00super 8mishapsimprovising My camera: the ZENIT QUARZ SUPER 8  Yesterday I made a super 8 film. I had half a day free as my son had gone to the city with some friends to see the Leonardoexhibition (disappointing by all accounts). A few weeks ago I'd given a page of extractsfrom poems (some of which I'd collected on this blog)to a friend who's a musician. She said she'd circledher favorites and  kept them in mind http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/01/improvising.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-4877513048123691128Tue, 12 Jan 2010 11:32:00 +00002010-01-16T12:49:47.733+11:00birdsnuclear disasterChernobylfrogsanimals Photo of Cooling tower of the unfinished Chernobyl reactors 5 and 6 (2009)by Timm Suess Since the human evacuation of the area around the nuclear power station following the Chernobyl disaster of 26/4/1986 it seems that birds and animals that had been absent for many years have resettled. These include wolves, black storks, frogs and moose. You can listen to some powerful and moving sound http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/01/making-nuclear-disaster-zone-your-home.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-4304906541486510187Sat, 09 Jan 2010 09:12:00 +00002010-01-09T20:27:57.177+11:00 <!--StartFragment--> When I first saw the image of this beautiful sculpture (© Huang Yong Ping) I felt like I wanted to do the same, shed the skin of my year and awake more sensitive and slightly smaller. L'ombre blanche, 23 October - 19 December 2009 www.galeriemennour.com   <!--EndFragment-->http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/01/at-home-in-your-skin.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-8636399311045234855Tue, 05 Jan 2010 12:09:00 +00002010-01-16T12:51:25.526+11:00Virginia Woolfasylumsstately homes painting of Virginia Woolf by Roger Fry. <!--StartFragment--> In an essay originally entitled 'Behind the Bars' Virginia Woolf describes "those comfortably padded lunatic asylums, which are known, euphemistically, as the stately homes of England” <!--EndFragment--> http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2010/01/homes-and-lunatic-asylums.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-8889715071404224352Mon, 28 Dec 2009 09:52:00 +00002010-01-16T12:52:30.848+11:00impermanencedeathBachelardtablecloth <!--StartFragment--> 'Everything breathes again The tablecloth is white'  (Rene Cazelles, de terre et d'envolee, 1953 quoted in Bachelard, below)  'It is better to live in a state of impermanence than in one of finality'  (Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space p. 61) http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2009/12/fraility.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-4686684563867998195Thu, 24 Dec 2009 13:23:00 +00002010-01-16T12:53:31.142+11:00deathroundunnameable <!--StartFragment--> "Journey does imply a movement through time and space, as though that's what a life is. And sometimes it strikes me that we live on a round planet. You can't get outside the circle of everything. Luckily....We have something that is eternally spherical....you see that you come from somewhere, that you can't possibly name.....when you look at it as a journey, it's a very http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2009/12/round-to-home.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-3609910275154590119Tue, 22 Dec 2009 08:51:00 +00002010-01-16T12:54:22.298+11:00round 'No! Life is round' <!--StartFragment-->   (Joe Bousquet) <!--EndFragment-->http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2009/12/he-had-been-told-that-life-was.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-6637576781846914093Mon, 21 Dec 2009 12:19:00 +00002010-01-16T12:55:08.107+11:00round <!--StartFragment--> 'Life is probably round'  Van Gogh <!--EndFragment-->http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2009/12/is-life-round.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-3042737035800067508Sun, 20 Dec 2009 13:19:00 +00002010-01-16T12:55:52.127+11:00intimate spacespacetree <!--StartFragment--> 'Space, outside ourselves, invades and ravishes things: if you want to achieve the existence of a tree, invest it with inner space, this space that has its being in you. Surround it with compulsions, it knows no bounds, and only really becomes a tree if it takes its place in the heart of your renunciation'   (Rilke (1924) Poeme)<!--EndFragment-->http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2009/12/space-of-tree.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-5268898215764265648Sun, 20 Dec 2009 13:09:00 +00002010-01-16T12:56:35.490+11:00the firesdoors <!--StartFragment--> 'At the door of the house who will come knocking? An open door, we enter A closed door, a den The world pulse beats beyond my door'   (Pierre Albert Birot, Les Amusements Naturels)<!--EndFragment-->http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2009/12/door.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4054989619661997185.post-2976770741930118815Fri, 04 Dec 2009 12:44:00 +00002010-01-16T12:57:10.840+11:00duckslocals Today a child told me that locals slow their cars down for people and especially for ducks who may be crossing the road. You can tell, he said, that people who don't are not locals.http://thelineforhome.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-makes-local.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (T.)4