Fallowfield in winter -notes about this blog

detail of a “Boy Writing”

Quick cold here. Cat lets me know when I need to throw a stick on the fire. I’m dressed like an Alaskan crack whore and just about as nervous.
Brittle garden. Winter. Fire tending and claustration. Posting some personal stuff, likely too personal for most tastes. I really just want all this text stored somewhere safe, out of my mac and the peripherals, in a form someone can finger. Can take a look and draw closer or go away.

Preparing Bert’s novels. Not much to do but strip them of some old code and set him up some pages. Moving more quickly than I thought. But time crawls in the early part of the day, while I survey the task at hand and haven’t yet settled into it. Once you’re in there’s no alternative but beforehand you cast around a bit.

Anyway. Morning and night.


A friend of mine says his mother has post it notes stuck up for everything but breathing. Couple weeks ago I finally bought myself a machine that would do what I wanted it to do…play downtempo french hiphop while I wrote. So I’m really rocking. Stick it into koolsville dude etc. My intention here is to sort and store some documents online, documents left to me, sent to me, things I wrote that were always meant to be made public but painting, other things, took up too much time. I’m gonna use the posts page on this blog as post it notes to myself as I piece this simple database together for y’all and then hone it down – here in fallowfield in winter. Bert called the place fallowfield. There were things in the documents I didn’t want to face up to just yet, not the things said, but the good times of the saying. Nothing too outlandish was said, normal stuff really, but that’s the stuff that tears yer ass the hardest, I guess. Now I got the machinery and the time.

I’ve got the pictures from the last fiasco of a show up, the artist statements for Billy and me presented and Bert roughly introduced. I set Bert up his own blog connected to mine for his material. Dead guy blog. har. I’ll move documents into that next week. I can refer his family to it over Christmas if I keep at it steady. He left a tidy stack of manuscripts behind. I hope someone says the same thing of me. If I can say it myself it’ll be an awful load off my mind. What’s left of it. I tell ya. With Bert’s stuff there’s no comparing drafts for minor variations and deciding. We can be grateful for that. “Well that’s a mercy” as my mother would say. Har.

“The odd time, Our Lord and Heavenly Saviour would give me someone to play with” my brother Tim says in one of the stories he wrote a few years back, stories about his childhood, and that’s his exact tone. I posted them tonight.


~ by Rocky Green on December 10, 2006.

One Response to “Fallowfield in winter -notes about this blog”

  1. shut up and draw.

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