February 2015

The boy failing to call us up as I commanded, I was angry, and resolved to whip him for that and many other faults, to-day. Early with Sir W. Pen by coach to Whitehall, to the Duke of York’s chamber, and there I presented him from my Lord a fine map of Tangier, done by one Captain Beckman, a Swede, that is with my Lord. We staid looking it over a great while with the Duke after he was ready.
Thence I by water to the Painter’s, and there sat again for my face in little, and thence home to dinner, and so at home all the afternoon. Then came Mr. Moore and staid and talked with me, and then I to the office, there being all the Admiralty papers brought hither this afternoon from Mr. Blackburne’s, where they have lain all this while ever since my coming into this office.
This afternoon Mr. Hater received half a year’s salary for me, so that now there is not owing me but this quarter, which will be out the next month.
Home, and to be as good as my word, I bade Will get me a rod, and he and I called the boy up to one of the upper rooms of the Comptroller’s house towards the garden, and there I reckoned all his faults, and whipped him soundly, but the rods were so small that I fear they did not much hurt to him, but only to my arm, which I am already, within a quarter of an hour, not able to stir almost. After supper to bed.

white as noon, this ice—
this small arm which I am
not able to stir


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 28 February 1661/62.

This morning came Mr. Berkenshaw to me and in our discourse I, finding that he cries up his rules for most perfect (though I do grant them to be very good, and the best I believe that ever yet were made), and that I could not persuade him to grant wherein they were somewhat lame, we fell to angry words, so that in a pet he flung out of my chamber and I never stopped him, having intended to put him off today, whether this had happened or no, because I think I have all the rules that he hath to give. And so there remains not the practice now to do me good, and it is not for me to continue with him at 5l. per month.
So I settled to put all his rules in fair order in a book, which was my work all the morning till dinner. After dinner to the office till late at night, and so home to write by the post, and so to bed.

I find cries
where they were words:
in a lung.
I give the remains to a book,
work all night.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 27 February 1661/62.

Mr. Berkenshaw with me all the morning composing of musique to “This cursed jealousy, what is it,” a song of Sir W. Davenant’s.
After dinner I went to my Bookseller’s, W. Joyce’s, and several other places to pay my debts and do business, I being resolved to cast up my accounts within a day or two, for I fear I have run out too far.
In coming home I met with a face I knew and challenged him, thinking it had been one of the Theatre musicians, and did enquire for a song of him, but finding it a mistake, and that it was a gentleman that comes sometimes to the office, I was much ashamed, but made a pretty good excuse that I took him for a gentleman of Gray’s Inn who sings well, and so parted. Home for all night and set things in order and so to bed.

all morning in books
and other places
a far face


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 26 February 1661/62.

In the marketplace, all the mouths opened
and each tongue had a version of the story.

In the hive, the work of bees builds a complex
of gold cells: each room a miniature story.

How do you know where it begins, where it ends?
And which part is the middle of the story?

At the city gate, the woodcutter, the brigand, the samurai
and his wife— What will you believe, whose story?

Life of endless variation, life of primordial
desire masked as intention. You know the story.

I’ve tried to live my truths. Tend your own dagger,
your sphere of influence; write your own story.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Loose lips sink ships.

All the morning at the office. At noon with Mr. Moore to the Coffee-house, where among other things the great talk was of the effects of this late great wind; and I heard one say that he had five great trees standing together blown down; and, beginning to lop them, one of them, as soon as the lops were cut off, did, by the weight of the root, rise again and fasten. We have letters from the forest of Deane, that above 1000 Oakes and as many beeches are blown down in one walk there. And letters from my father tell me of 20l. hurt done to us at Brampton.
This day in the news-book I find that my Lord Buckhurst and his fellows have printed their case as they did give it in upon examination to a justice of Peace, wherein they make themselves a very good tale that they were in pursuit of thieves, and that they took this man for one of them, and so killed him; and that he himself confessed it was the first time of his robbing; and that he did pay dearly for it, for he was a dead man. But I doubt things will be proved otherwise, as they say.
Home to dinner, and by and by comes Mr. Hunt and his wife to see us and staid a good, while with us. Then parted, and I to my study in the office. The first time since the alteracon that I have begun to do business myself there, and I think I shall be well pleased with it.
At night home to supper and to bed.

In the coffee house,
talk is a great wind.
Trees blow down
and we have letters from the forest.
A thousand oaks walk to Brampton
in the news:
they make a good tale, thieves
that rob us of time.


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 25 February 1661/62.

Long with Mr. Berkenshaw in the morning at my musique practice; finishing my song of “Gaze not on Swans,” in two parts, which pleases me well, and I did give him 5l. for this month or five weeks that he hath taught me, which is a great deal of money and troubled me to part with it. Thence to the Paynter’s, and set again for my picture in little, and thence over the water to Southwark to Mr. Berkenshaw’s house, and there sat with him all the afternoon, he showing me his great card of the body of musique, which he cries up for a rare thing, and I do believe it cost much pains, but is not so useful as he would have it. Then we sat down and set “Nulla, nulla sit formido,” and he has set it very finely. So home and to supper, and then called Will up, and chid him before my wife for refusing to go to church with the maids yesterday, and telling his mistress that he would not be made a slave of, which vexes me. So to bed.

swans over the house—
his great body in pain
refusing to go


Erasure haiku derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 24 February 1661/62.