Haunted By You

I was digging through boxes of ephemera in the shed the other week. It can be quite terrifying to uncover those kinds of things. They mark the passage of time too accurately and at times like these they can mock with ravaging precision. So I unpacked all the old Belle and Sebastian ephemera. All those old black and white press promo photos. Maybe I will frame those up and hang them in the Geek Lair. And there was that old issue of Select magazine with the B&S article that had those photos of my little ‘Belle Lettres’ booklets and the interview with me that they did over the phone whilst I was teaching class one day. And I found the poem that Stuart sent me with that handwritten note about my having an over-active imagination. Seeing that made me smile again.

Or what about the Little Ink Polaroids and Little Ink Movies books? Did I read somewhere that those were selling on eBay for silly money? Maybe that was a while ago, I do not remember. Anyway, I do remember us all writing our own little ink polaroids for Sinister and that was fun. I flicked through Stuart David’s collection again and realised that it was so sad that this lovely little book was hiding inside a box, ostensibly unloved. So I slipped it inside an envelope and mailed it off to someone who might give it the love it deserves. And then in turn it may end up being passed on from that person to another, and so on and so on. Because what is the point in filling boxes with artefacts that will only one day be left for the trash collectors to clear out of dead houses?

I was speaking with someone in school last week about how nice it is to get real mail. These days of course most of us can only rely on junk mail and bills, but perhaps we can still dream of little silver packets tied up in purple ribbon, accompanied by hand drawn heart-shaped balloons. And again, at the risk of sounding like the ancient codger I assuredly am, I remember the years before email when the post would bring envelopes bulging with inspirational words from around the globe. The best envelopes would be filled with the ephemera of lives lived; nothing more special than old train tickets, sweet wrappers, a rogue photograph and of course fanzines. Always fanzines…

All of which is really a rambling prelude to saying that I found old copies of Fire Raisers and Fantastique! issue 3’s which I had promised to mail to a few people. And that in re-reading the issues of Fire Raisers I discovered some things I had all but forgotten. There was that piece about New Orleans that I wrote in the autumn of maybe 1989 on returning to Scotland after months in the USA. Richey said he loved that piece, which makes me smile and cry at the same time now. I am sure he said he was going to send a copy to Nicky Wire’s brother, who at that time was a writer living in Chicago or somewhere. But perhaps I am getting that all mixed up.

The key pieces of my own writing that I wanted to read though were the extracts from Big Flame. Big Flame was a book I tried to write. It was meant to be disjointed and angular; an attempt to capture the sound and structures of Big Flame songs in printed word. It failed, of course. But re-reading those extracts I was struck by the fact that, in spite of that failure, there were key phrases that leapt out at me and made me smile. For perhaps they were not so very dreadful after all. And looking back on the basic themes of the book – forbidden desire, obsession, the discomfort of place and time – it struck me that perhaps I should re-visit it. Which I may do. The old handwritten manuscript is here on my desk as I write this now, and it suddenly feels both like unfinished business and a chance for laying ghosts (of past, present and future) to as much of a rest as is possible.

Comments

[Camilla]

I don't know how I ended up here, but I wanted to say I remember post, and stamps from far away countries, and i've just signed up to be someone's real life penfriend after years of not having one.

[nancy o.]

Funny you should mention Fantastique! #3, because I just came across it the other day in a big box of fanzines I'm trying to sort. And yes, I really miss mail! It used to be such a huge part of my life, too.

[mike]

honestly? i'd probably still be doing a zine right now if the mail hadn't dried up and went electronic. (note sly b&s reference, in honor of your first couple paragraphs.)