Shore notes 04/02/26

I want to start writing again. I gave up after the last Shore Notes, mostly because of fatigue which was later identified as some weird form of CFS. I still live with that but it bothers me much less. There are ways to cope and quieten it. Since then, so much of writing has become AI-ed and automatic, and so much that I read is guff. I’ve trained and got a day job, and I’ve moved house again and yet again. Art and expression and silly little thoughts have gone neglected. It hurts a little. It’s time to claw myself back from all of the systems and strategies, and do some being.

I want to write about coastal communities, sandblasted but never smooth. Limpets soldered to the cracked rock face til they scatter, bored through, rings of yesterday. The gristle that lines the insides of my shoes, and the hot beat of summer on pale skin, forest pathways with simmering seaweed scent behind the muddy organics.

And, maybe, the hours spent looking out towards the resonant blue green grey black. How it undulates and echoes in endless lines towards you. How it slides beneath you when you’re out there, raising and dropping you unevenly, hypnotic in every direction like a fire, eternally reforming. You bounce and steady, rise and fall in arhythmic rhythm, unevenly weighted from valley to crest. I still miss it sometimes.

But I’ve learned to love the land, too. And art and people and rocks and Cornwall and joy. I want to write about it all. I might throw in some old stuff too. Hello again.