this morning a small child´s voice said ´bye´ as i awoke. probably something popping in my ear - it´s pretty strange in there with the drum and the hammer and the canal and all that stuff - but it set me thinking. granada´s weirdness, the rapid mood swings, the magic and the grotesqueness of it, is related to the presence of ghosts. fantasmas. in the usual manner of jen i refuse not to rationalise my superstition. thus:
there have been a few crazy battles. the moors used to hold this town and it has that aspect of reconquered sacredness that haunts certain greek-turkish-greek-turkish islands. mosques to churches to monuments. and now the pilgrims come bearing cameras instead of prayers. i went to la alhambra the other day and was profoundly unsurprised, it´s as if some nineteenth century real estate agent had a sign up saying renovator´s dream and that´s pretty much what happened as far as i gather. the palace complex, after the moors were evicted and the christians got bored and napoleon tried to explode it, was left empty. squatters moved in. squatters got accused of being lowlife scum. washington irving moved in and wrote a book. the government smelled money. the squatters, many romany which didn´t help with the whole dirty-crim image, got moved to the next hill. they´re still there.
we who create the products of this world and (still!) do not own the means, we who create the culture of this world and do not own the media, we also create the magic of places. and this lasts, mutating, just as the products last and the culture lasts, often longer than we do. when i say magic i don´t mean crystal balls and potions, i mean music and fireplace conversations and dancing and sex and arguments and laughter and sharing with our neighbours; the connections between us, which can in the end only be called by one name. granada is haunted by evicted love.
therefore i´m moody. that was a very convoluted excuse.
in an effort to conquer insanity through civilisation avoidance (hey it works) i´m going to lanjaron or thereabouts which is at the mountain´s feet to do some wwoofing and writing and ignoring of real world. i can see the sierra nevada from here and it´s covered in snow. i may climb the less snow-capped bits. i may stay there for a month or so and there may not be a computer, just fresh air and healthy labour and words in my head to spin out like thread
bye
there have been a few crazy battles. the moors used to hold this town and it has that aspect of reconquered sacredness that haunts certain greek-turkish-greek-turkish islands. mosques to churches to monuments. and now the pilgrims come bearing cameras instead of prayers. i went to la alhambra the other day and was profoundly unsurprised, it´s as if some nineteenth century real estate agent had a sign up saying renovator´s dream and that´s pretty much what happened as far as i gather. the palace complex, after the moors were evicted and the christians got bored and napoleon tried to explode it, was left empty. squatters moved in. squatters got accused of being lowlife scum. washington irving moved in and wrote a book. the government smelled money. the squatters, many romany which didn´t help with the whole dirty-crim image, got moved to the next hill. they´re still there.
we who create the products of this world and (still!) do not own the means, we who create the culture of this world and do not own the media, we also create the magic of places. and this lasts, mutating, just as the products last and the culture lasts, often longer than we do. when i say magic i don´t mean crystal balls and potions, i mean music and fireplace conversations and dancing and sex and arguments and laughter and sharing with our neighbours; the connections between us, which can in the end only be called by one name. granada is haunted by evicted love.
therefore i´m moody. that was a very convoluted excuse.
in an effort to conquer insanity through civilisation avoidance (hey it works) i´m going to lanjaron or thereabouts which is at the mountain´s feet to do some wwoofing and writing and ignoring of real world. i can see the sierra nevada from here and it´s covered in snow. i may climb the less snow-capped bits. i may stay there for a month or so and there may not be a computer, just fresh air and healthy labour and words in my head to spin out like thread
bye
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