Driving Snow (Schneetreiben) from the portfolio Eleven Woodcuts, 1912-1919 (Elf Holzschnitte, 1912-1919), Erich Heckel, 1914 (published 1921)

I’m a little over being polite now... YOU FUCKWIT TORY SCUMBAG ETON TOFF PIG FUCKING USELESS BUNCH OF CUNTING CUNTING CUNTS. That feels better now.

1. I will lose friends over this thread. But I feel it would be dishonest not to say what follows. It seems to me that we need to distinguish between two different issues, that are often confused: A. Whether the UK is better off in the EU. B. Whether the EU is a good thing.

Week 24 #climatestrike air pollution has killed 1.7 million Indians in 2019. Waiting for the day when we can breathe clean air. #ClimateAction #nomoreemptypromises

Naomi Klein making inroads with the youth protest movement.... #naomiklein #gretathunberg #fridayforfuture #schoolstrike #wakeup

Night walk

Night walk part 2

Thoughts on film... Not many films stick in the mind. The endless churning images of the mainstream orthodoxy go straight through our eyes out the back of the head barely registering in the mind... Even of great films perhaps only a few isolated images remain lodged in the mind.

Mouchette rolling into a river. The mother running through rain in The Mirror, paranoid she has made an error in an official publication. Max Von Sydow wrestling with a sapling. The child enveloped in steam from a train in Bill Douglas’s, My Ain Folk

The prostitute balancing on a plank in a flooded flat in La Dolce Vita. The spaghetti dinner with workers and Mabel in Woman under the influence The saturation of images, the pornography, the binged box set, the endless crime stories, the endless stories!

What a load of shit for the eyes. It’s amazing our eyes aren’t open wounds. So no more of the monoform images. Images to read off a story. To cover a story. No more stories. Aren’t all the stories in the end a lie?

Just a striving for those necessary pictures that cannot be un-remembered. That settle in the minds eye. That console and anger. That bring us back to ourselves. I think I prefer paintings...