Warm red, exuberant. Speechless.
Nay I hav ni…a ja alright jock ay the Nu xxxyer brotner
Naw a hiv nae…r ye alright aye the noo xxx yer brother
White van. Small cemetery. Monterey Cypress, Irish Yew. Andy mentions trying to read a recent Irvine Welsh novel. Driving to the road end to catch a bus.
Loch Buie. Always struck me as beautiful but eerie. Haunted. Was there an old ballroom there?
Cold dreams in a cold bed. Cold bed in a cold house. Cold house…I know now…burned and frozen out…cold heart of a sensitive person…warm heart of the emotionless.
It’s his birthday. In Auld Reekie to film…he can’t get the fucking heating to work…he’s on his own…it’s his birthday…imagine celebrating your fucking birthday alone…after the dram he returns to the house, the heating now on, the ambient transformed, picks up the TV remote. Reds. Exhilarating.
First message, different source; ….in Edinburgh to start filming…around til August
Second message, same source as above; He’s says he’s in a freezing house, trying to turn up the heater. I think it made him think of the trip you two took xxxxx
I remember; a woman coming up to the car to say there was a horse on the road and could we wait, he turned off the head lights, another light source picked up the horse cantering alongside the crash barrier which on the other side was a drop into a loch, we were heading up to Kinlochbervie from Ullapool. Location scouting for…the director’s sixth film
I remember; the man in the BnB wearing a hairnet and the beds having electric blankets, piles of church magazines in the twin room we shared, and the smell of bacon and coffee in the morning although there only seemed to be a pot of tea on the table but what a plateful, what a plateful.
I never saw the film.
For the first time since late September last year I return to painting. I dreamt of a Venus Fly Trap sitting on top of a plinth of square black coloured wood tiles with a rough hue.
Passer des jours dans le silence monastique