22nd Dec 15
So many things to say. Chair scrapes accross the plastic tiles behind me in this cafe. Before I started writing I had so many ideas of what to write about in my brain. Now I start I don’t know which idea to use first.
I think the first thing is: people actually follow me on my blog!
TThis gives me a totally different feeling about my writing. It has added meaning … but I must remember it is still MY diary I’m writing … I’m still writing for me.
So, my diary, is about what is happening to me, today!
Well, I’ve just dumped a lot of “rubbish” at the rubbish tip, a surprisingly beautiful place, in its organisation … a skip for every category of stuff we have no use for anymore.
As l tipped the empty cardboard IKEA packages into the cardboard and paper skip, I saw them as precious materials to be recycled into something else…
… and isn’t that what we all are?… precious materials, that will be recycled into something else after we die …(indeed nothing is lost … )
and, taking that thought further , aren’t we, in one moment, (or, indeed, isn’t the moment itself?), precious materials to be recycled into a totally different form, (even though it may appear the same), in the next moment?
So, this is my diary. I have just eaten a cheese roll, (like a sausage roll except cheese,) here, in the Amsterdam Hema, (a shop I want to write a song of praise about), and I’m trying not to eat wheat , or all grain products) , hard not to when I’m finally on my own and writing my diary / blog…. in the Hema cafe …
( l like using 3 dots… it flows … more like my life, no clear cut endings or beginnings except in my songwriting and paintings )
… And I’ve also, in the past, made a website for my music teaching and it didn’t take off, even though my teaching method works like pure genius in the real world, and now as I write about me and about my life … I get followers! imagine that.
I feel one of my problems (but probably its one of my strengths if I work it right ), is that I’m a kaliedosope of things, a patch-work quilt of interests, passions, skills, ( a pure aquarius ) … I find it hard to categorize myself:
I’m a visual artist, musician, writer, therapist , poet, gatherer of ideas, songwriter, listener , teacher, inspirer, sculptor … the list goes on …
well that will do for now. See you tomorrow , or later today, in the next available, completely different moment! 🙂
Outside birds sing … dawn chorus … faint light appears through the skylight above me … a hum and the faint tap of my Spen stylus … me trying to write about what is in this moment
… tiredness behind my eyes …
apps are the Alladins cave … I lie awake all night searching for more and more … I always come back to Snotes. Must leave this device downstairs at night – must!
Feel better for writing about it all though – money low again – gig tomorrow night with bass player – should sleep – will have to cancel lesson tomorrow – no time for me … hardly – only way to get time for me is to lie in bed at night writing on my device … I have no children to carry my genes on – how strange – this particular billion years old evolutionary line – ends here – with me …
and yet, as there is only this moment what does it really matter?
l lie in bed waiting for Godot … oh how far does it go? – this spirit and spiral the past is just a memory, the future is ? … I close this ragged door and the pitiful strangers pass through … they collide and ricoche across tragic ballroom floors, they dance heavily on the poished wood, their heavy, muddy boots, dragging.
Where are they/we now?… our apples smelling over-ripe, in their orange boxes, stored on the dry, dusty floor of the woodshed at the bottom of that muddy track .
oh, take these blinkers from my eyes
… let me see again
… through this silly, rattling rain, hammering lightly on the corrugated iron of the goat’s shed at bottom of the garden. And beyond the shed: the ditch and beyond the ditch: the field, where the black and white cows sometimes ran …
…oh yesterday is gone and I’m learning,
… who knows maybe I’II have a family yet?
… and maybe there is another lifetime, endless Planet Earths, in endless, different dimensions, and us, merely transfering from one to another.
… and my own father’s life has finally reached the end … God bless him… it is so wierd.
I am Tony Chapman. … I am still trying to “make it” with my music and art and creative writing. I’m not giving up … this is the story of my journey from here on, AS IT TAKES PLACE these are my footsteps as I plant them… ahead of me lies an unbroken beach of warm sand or an unbroken plain of cold snow… well… first footstep…here l go!
I have found out from googling:
be conscious of it. Then you can make it consistent, a kind of umbrella over all the elements of your art/ music / writing or whatever you have to offer.
2. More later…