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2010-11-04 - 9:49 a.m.
After the excitement at the weekend and on Monday, the last few days have been a bit quiet. I have finished off a couple of pieces, one an extension of a canon piece which already existed and sent them to Gilbert who thinks they are OK. Gilbert has sent me three recordings of his work with Scott Walton and we plan to put them on CJAM Music on LFM once they have been properly mixed. There has been a lot of activity on Linkedin. Someone organised a combined group linking where people declared their willingness to link up. I listened to the extracts from Larkin�s diaries. It included Larkin struggling to finish this poem: Side by side, their faces blurred, The earl and countess lie in stone, Their proper habits vaguely shown As jointed armour, stiffened pleat, And that faint hint of the absurd � The little dogs under their feet. Such plainness of the pre-baroque Hardly involves the eye, until It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still Clasped empty in the other; and One sees, with a sharp tender shock, His hand withdrawn, holding her hand. They would not think to lie so long. Such faithfulness in effigy Was just a detail friends would see: A sculptor�s sweet commissioned grace Thrown off in helping to prolong The Latin names around the base. They would not guess how early in Their supine stationary voyage The air would change to soundless damage, Turn the old tenantry away; How soon succeeding eyes begin To look, not read. Rigidly they Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light Each summer thronged the glass. A bright Litter of birdcalls strewed the same Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths The endless altered people came, Washing at their identity. Now, helpless in the hollow of An unarmorial age, a trough Of smoke in slow suspended skeins Above their scrap of history, Only an attitude remains: Time has transfigured them into Untruth. The stone fidelity They hardly meant has come to be Their final blazon, and to prove Our almost-instinct almost true: What will survive of us is love.
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