Obscurum Inter Stellas

An Intepretation of the Above Phrase
I've watched A Beautiful Mind, a film on the life of John Nash, and the result is that I feel a bit like him. Sure enough, it's hard to put down to writing all that tonnerloads of things I've been thinking, maybe because they don't make sense, maybe because in turn that I'm flying off my handles, but I'll try anyway.

More ominously when I finished The Fish Can Sing (Halldór Laxness) for the third time I felt a bit like Garðar Holm, the national celebrity, the unhappy and worldly man who had a faked fame and took his own life after singing the only song that could be called a song; and when I finished Fury by Salman Rushdie I felt like the character Malik Solanka, with all his fits of bloody wrath and anger and waving his fists at the businesses that feed on and corrupt his brainchildren.

Today I've been reading a history of the Ming Dynasty, and gods, is it filled with insane realpolitik that never seem to end, and it's the fourth book in the series! And the song Astros, Fuentes y Flores is sounding deliriously cheesy.

I tried to watch funnier stuff but they're all too stupid to watch so I dropped them. And now there's not much in the way of finally writing. There, I haven't written much. In fact it's nothing really.

I mean I've left out the really important stuff. It's not just now; I've been doing it for a long time. It used to be out of fear of the Official Secrets Act, but today it's just out of sheer habit and sense of fun that I hide ninety percent of what is going on in my writing. Sometimes it's fun, dodging the eyes of the readers and all, but many times one is left with nothing to write. And at times like these they are withdrawn to themselves.

You cannot find much there is which has been put to writing last year, from July afterwards, with some stellar exceptions. As the amateurs put their telescopes' focus on the points of light, real life goes on in the darkness between them. In the planets that orbit them; in the gases that enshroud them; in the galaxies that skulk behind them, enormously distant.