50 minute run completed this evening – Grid training.
I need to take some basic waterproof gear to The Island after walking through the river at the foot of Snaefell in 2012. I’ll consider taking a holy staff this time around.
I will start packing soon for our pilgrimage, but there are still spaces to be stared into – so I’ll do that instead.
I’ll be leaving from Birkenhead which will be strange. The boat usually sails from either Heysham or Liverpool. This will be a first for me.
All has gone quiet from Custodian R recently – perhaps he’s still working on the creation of a Gridometer to aid our mountainside search.
Snaefell Mountain, The Isle of Man awaits the latest pilgrimage of Custodian M and Custodian R. It will happen somewhere between 27.12.14 – 30. 12.14.
This is rigorous academic inquiry. This is a framework for nothing in particular.
I drift around the yellowing paper draws at my nans in 1986 and chew upon a sickly sweet grid shaped toffee. Reverie Suite reversed.
Tynwald…’O Land of Our Birth.’
I’m not altogether sure that we’ll find The Grid. 1995 was a long time ago. If it was removed – who’d remove it? It has to be there – somewhere.
I’m now forty. I was then dans my significant early 20’s.
Swig coffee. Washing machine rumbles it’s monotonous monotony. Clocks tick here on a Sunday. 12.38pm.
So we find it…then what? Do we leave it there and walk away? Would it be appropriate to de-myth the myth and bring it back to my North East Lincolnshire home and site it next to my plastic Statue of Liberty bought from the Battery Island ferry terminal NYC in 1999?
I will pour coke upon the said artefact as I did so in 1995. A juvenile re – enactment devoid of politicale candor. What is the significance of the brown fizzy stuff?
Perhaps Custodian R could take it back with him to Greece? Myth. Barthes would approve? Language is piss funny.
