Night Terrors

Last night I had a proper existential nightmare. I went for a walk but the landscape started to change, and I felt confused and frightened. So I decided to ask the name of this strange place, thinking to get a bus back. Nobody would tell me and I’d forgotten where I came from. Worse still, I didn’t know who I was.

At some point I realised it was a dream and woke up with a horrible feeling of being hollowed out. But at least I got this poem.

There’s a black hole in my heart
I’m a golem with the scroll
missing, bare oblate spheroid
mourning for its atmosphere.

Waking up, my name feels strange
who I am a fantasy
my brain whistling in the dark.

The Picture House Goes Dark

There’s never been much to do in Campbeltown, but at least we had a unique art deco  Picture House, which celebrated its centenary last year. It rarely showed anything except bog standard American movies, but there was a First Mondays showing each month when more out-of-ordinary films were offered. And over the summer we had simultaneous broadcasts from operas and plays in London.

At the end of August, the Picture House closed down after losing money hand over fist. With the promise of a two year refurbishment if the money can be raised. I hope so.

Is Scotland Free Yet?

This is real-time blogging. The time is 8:25 am. I’ve been up since 6:00, doing everything possible to distract my mind from seeking out the result of the Scottish Independence referendum, which should have been made public by now.

So here goes. Off to the perfidious Guardian for the news…and it’s No. Huge missed opportunity to be our own country, independent of the neo-liberal cabal at Westminster. Life will go on, but Scotland just shot itself in the foot.

Freedom Day

Otherwise known as the Scottish Independence referendum, which finally happened today after months of wall-to-wall negativity, bias, lies and pure fantasy from all three major parties and every single newspaper. Including my own dear Guardian, for which I will never forgive it.

I voted early, getting to the polling station at Victoria Hall before 7:00. First in line outside.

The next photos are of the Independence Car, and its proud owner, who I’ve seen driving round Campbeltown during the campaign.

And then I took a bus to Glasgow, because I couldn’t bear staying in the same place while the process unfolded. Part of me really doesn’t want to know the result. More tomorrow.