On the beach occasionally doing woowoo

I went and lay on the stones at the edge of the world. Louring sky but the memory of warmth still in the world.

People are still swimming in this water. Climatically it’s the best time, although these days no water in this country is safe from companies greed-dumping chemicals way over any safe limits. Likely the sea in Brighton is chemical muck. BUT Sovrinntey!! Anyway, that’s my excuse for not swimming in the sea. Bite me.

Being here with the big sky and the relative peace helps with the noise. London in the heat is not a good place. The production I’m involved in has hit ructions and things are being rescheduled. COVID, apparently. Of all reasons to take a day off work, it’s COVID again. I’m told I won’t have to drop some stuff off tomorrow because things have been delayed by fecking COVID. A little bit of me hears that in the same light that I might hear it if I was told that the shoot was delayed because of a bout of scrofula. Surely we are done spannering our works with that one? Much as it was delightful to bugger around on Zoom with Creation, to meet Lou, to look after that snake, to have access to a flat in Hampstead Heath, to have time and space and breath, guiltless. Surely we are over that shit despite the guilt free time off we all had.

Now I’m back in the bollocks. Every day I’m not working makes me feel guilty. I can frame some pretty eccentric things as work, of course. And I’ve got woowoo type “work” (unpaid) where I’m very very practiced. Things about eating negative energy and converting it to light. Demon munching. Sometimes that can be very tiring believe it or not, even if it IS just made up crap. Here by the sea I can do it harder and recover faster.

So. Seaside. Water. Expanse. Access to nature. Liminal space. A cat. All the things that help my woowoo. I’m here trying to field some pretty big stuff in London and in Georgia and it is totally right that the practical needs of a sickly cat and a pushed-out friend have thrown me to the edge of this country. Either I’m strongest at the edges or it’s all a load of made up crap. I’ll roll the dice thanks.

Plus it’s great here. I went for breakfast at Café Rust. Catsitting is a bit of a holiday really. This little part of Brighton is a very chilled village, without the monolithic pomposity of my little corner of Chelsea.