yesterday, the calliope. Last week, the Ferris wheel.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
I (small i that is) passed by Stonehenge this week. This timely post by Tim echoed by the same words Pasted on the side of a truck" Tardis Painting. Whoosh. The M25 can be a bugger. Zing! at Fleet Services and whoosh, we're on the M3 heading bearing Cook's Plymouth and Drake's Dorset before offroading into the wet bogs of East Avalon. (You guessed it-Glastonbury). The old aisle of saints and crows presenting themselves in the heavens, in a quieter, more ethereal Somerset. So I welcome this post, as I often do by Tim, because as Stonehenge appears from the road as small bricks against such a magnificent skyline as Wiltshire offers (and even tho Spinal Tap did cover this context in which Stonehenge can seem "small") I nevertheless hope that I am not overmining by choosing to fixate on such massive, solid objects.
Trucks whoosh, and glazed eyes on the motorway, are one perspective. But also, fruits and trees in their becoming, horses that are gnawing at the bit of fields to Produce! produce! (although we call them vegetables and greens), and as all roads lead to Avalon, it's not surprising, with Speculative Realism under my arm, and OOO in my wake I should come face to face with the tardis of all tardae. The Tor itself...