Why “Between Two Colmars”? I just read it, and I can half see what you are saying, but please do say more. I’m interested….

“It did not take much to make it all crumble: the slightest false note, a mere moment’s hesitation, a sign that was perhaps too vulgar, and their happiness would be put out of joint; it went back to being what it had always been, a kind of deal, a thing they had bought, a pitiful and flimsy thing, just a second’s respite which returned them all the more forcefully to the real dangers, the real uncertainties in their lives, in their history.”

That’s how I used to feel about weekends in London.

“When the talked to each other about their kind of living, their way of life, their future – when they surrendered themselves in a kind of frenzy, and entirely, to an orgy of better worlds – they sometimes said, with a rather hollow melancholy, that they had not sorted things out properly in their minds. They saw the world through muddled eyes, and the clarity they proclaimed as a value was often accompanied by indecisive fluctuations, ambiguous compromises and assorted other considerations which modulated, minimised or even entirely undermined entirely what were, quite obviously still, their good intentions.”

Also Berger’s essay ‘Between Two Colmars’.

(:

Yeah that’s right – but I also think that HL and I are trying to get at something else, something a bit more basic that hangovers have everything to do with but which isn’t exhausted by them… Some sort of kicking against comfort, an inirradicable perversity of spirit? Or maybe it can be irradicated, amputated, who knows… More to come on all of this, I’m afraid…

IT,

You said it, not me. I do feel very at home here, for what it’s worth. Have fun amongst the commie Inuits!

Anyway, I’m moving to red Greenland. I’ve decided.