Bye Bye for now!

I've decamped! I've gone over to the dark side!
Seriously, I had too many things on Wordpress, it was getting confusing trying to edit everything. So, I've transfered the whole kit and caboodle here http://sarahmonteith.wordpress.com/

Do come and see me!

On Hearing

In semiotics, a sign is "something that stands for something else, to someone in some capacity". It may be understood as a discrete unit of meaning, and includes words, images, gestures, scents, tastes, textures, sounds – essentially all of the ways in which information can be communicated as a message by any sentient, reasoning mind to another. Wikipedia, 11th August, 2009.
In memory of Jane Taylor, 19 October 1958- 9th August 2009.


Don't take this as a sign
that I grow maudlin

My misery is attributable
to specific time
fixed space

the fluidity and lightness of my interaction
with the world
nailed
abruptly,
to a moment encapsulated.

She
died.

the neutral neural mind
absorbs the signifier
and

retrieves

the termination
of relational involvement

tearful heat of
those close

excruciating torment
as free- falling grief
commences

And tries hard to reject
the words
to rewrite
the signified

to revisit
the youthful, juvenille self
who could have made more
if she'd only
known.

Not Perfect

Just because I adore him. And, because he's so very very clever, and his other songs make me laugh so very much, and maybe it's just me, and where I'm at with everything at the moment, but this has never, NEVER failed to make me cry...

Not Perfect
Tim Minchin

This is my Earth, and I live in it
It’s one third dirt, and two thirds water
And it rotates and revolves through space at rather an impressive pace
And never even messes up my hair- and here’s the really weird thing
The force created by its spin is the force that stops the chaos flooding in

This is my Earth
And it’s fine
It’s where I spend the vast majority of my time
It’s not perfect
But it’s mine
It’s not perfect

This is my house, and I live in it
It’s made of cracks and photographs
We rent it off a guy who bought it from a guy
Who bought it from a guy whose grandad left it to him
And the weirdest thing is that this house has locks to keep the baddies out
But they’re mostly used to lock ourselves in

This is my house
And it’s fine
It’s where I spend the vast majority of my time
It’s not perfect
But it’s mine
It’s not perfect
But it's mine

This is my body, and I live in it
It’s 31 and 6 months old- it’s changed a lot since it was new
It’s done stuff it wasn’t built to do, I often try to fill it up with wine...
And the weirdest thing about it is I spend so much time hating it
But it never says a bad word about me

This is my body
And it’s fine
It’s where I spend the vast majority of my time
It’s not perfect
But it’s mine
It’s not perfect

This is my brain, and I live in it
It’s made of love and bad song lyrics
It’s tucked away behind my eyes
Where all my fucked up thoughts can hide,
Cos God forbid I hurt somebody
And the weirdest thing about a mind
Is that every answer that you find is the basis of a brand new cliché

This is my brain
And it’s fine
It’s where I spend the vast majority of my time
It’s not perfect
But it’s mine
It’s not perfect
I’m not quite sure I’ve worked out how to work it
It’s not perfect
But it’s mine



(go watch him sing it... it's so lovely... and it's here... )