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After this week’s hospital appointment it’s official – P.O.T.S. meds aren’t working, and I’m to come off. I knew, I did; daily tried not to; stayed on those pills for months beyond the doctor’s orders, speaking mantras when popping,¬†willing my body towards energy&verticality, investing hope and harvesting nothing much. I’m so tired of being tired. And all bleached out now, thin as a rail – need to let myself fall. Time for a break, to rest, regroup and all that. Last post (before I come back).

Thinking about red (there’s energy for you!). Rothko’s, illuminated, shaded. Matisse’s room. The little painter’s hands (Marlene Dumas). The snow child. Menses. Spools (Louise Bourgeois). Colour of my true love’s hair. A rose. A rose. A rose. Tames a boy who is a prince. Blushes. Fake blood in films. My patent-leather Mary Janes, unworn. Finger-nails. Setting sun. Nettle-sting. Great Gig in the Sky. Behind eyes before a faint. Slap. Scratch. Chinese burn. What the bull minds. Threads. Hearts. Herrings. A sea. Inquisition. The writing on a war-card. Flags. Lips. Songs. Carpets. Boxer’s tongue. Poppies. Dresses. Dances. Doors. Lights and districts. Letters and their boxes. Geryon. Towns. Triangles. Stop! Cherries. Berries. Cheeks of apples. Rubies. Tuesdays. Dwarves. Bandanas. The red around the white around the swastika. The little post-memory collar I sneaked in with my fallen pillar (post 5/6/14). Insomnia. Insouciance. Insurgency. Eyes. Sails. Rivers.
Silence for a wee while.

Have a good summer!

PS. You can still read me: I did an interview for @PalettePages Рthank you, Lisa Gray, for inviting me and making it look so good.

 


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