Take Some Time Out

It is a beautiful crisp fall day. A time of reflection as all yearly passings are. The quiet semblance of clear landscapes. I strive for space and silence. Bathed in sunlight. An assessment and a drive forward into the future. I hope things will be better for all parties involved. That we could grow in a productive manner. I have so many books to read here. The main objective is to repair the damage and rebuild oneself as best possible. "when you pass so close to me to hold my emotions..." Another breath, another step forward. A whole month of this silence and remembrance. To learn that you can't get away with this forever. Someone will come to you. Bathed in sunlight.

Three Days Left.

Its three days now. What have I learned so far? Where am I going? (I feel like Gauguin for a moment there- asking questions that are impossible to answer) From this life to another passing through time looking back on all that came before. Another quick scan, another place to be thankful for. I had one of the most exciting and somewhat heartbreaking summers in a long time. This is good. It is an adventure I want to continue. I’ve been focusing on those moments lately where one says goodbye. That past reflection when she left – it doesn’t matter who or when its just the few second of total disconnect replayed in my mind over and over. The chemical rush of excitement as I was confident and full of hope and not worried and waiting rest assured it would all continue the “o I should mention this but it can wait because I will certainly see you again soon”. Only to have those hopes crushed on the rocks and washed away in to the ocean of time. Or something like that emerged the next moment being cut off without equivocation. Perhaps it was the age, conflicting interests, divided loyalties, overcome by pursuit...

Another Setting

http://www.thedurutticolumn.com/discography/1983/08/another-setting.html
Five days left, as it were, embarking on a new journey perhaps. Then again, perhaps not my mind is consumed by the presence of memory. I feel locked in this stasis trying to comprehend past events. What could have led to this? Why am i so vulnerable now? Why do I long so much for ... the promise of a few more moments. Its difficult to keep drifting with no actual knowledge of what lies ahead. My life is "spun out of control", or it has run away with my ---- never to bring it back. Day to day advice helps, words that bring me back into the picture, that bring me hope. I don't know if I regret anything or its just a failure to understand what happened. Again, if I cannot communicate clearly how can I possibly comprehend past events? I move around for awhile asking myself the same questions. Hoping for closure or the promise of a new beginning.

i'm glad i made you cry

a matter came up today - something i hadn't thought about in a long time:

me: somewhere indeed
i think its good for people to learn lessons or at least trip and fall down - realize they aren't the only people in the world
l: a very important lesson good for character
me: right
l: to be truly humble rather than appear to be
me: like when i rode my bike to visit this girl across town and got lost in the woods and was alone all alone and had to figure out how to get back home and climbed a fence with my bike on my back and ripped my jeans a little
rough times
when i was 15
l: yes! a very sweet story
me: ha i shouldn't have seen her she had the flu
l: oh no! but fun yes?
me: it was an adventure
the full spectrum of human emotion

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Perhaps its cyclical. Something I hadn't thought about in a long time, moments from when I was someone else, a different human being. Different than today. The dreams of a man who could do just about anything, who would overcome any barrier to get what he wanted. A man driven by hope and desire. Someone who took life too seriously, who saw everything as connected and acknowledged to his way of being. I don't think the motivations were entirely selfish, the man was just consumed with curiosity and the taste for knowledge. Such things always hurt in the end.
At every turn I am told I take things too seriously or am too hard on myself. These days I can't tell whether that's true or what i feel is just my body reacting to other forces (other voices, other rooms). The muffled wake as I am perpetually caught in childrens games.
I can't go back any further - i have a high tolerance for pain - any more reflection will resurrect brutal memories.

I prefer to be alive and damaged and free and independent than a piece of furniture.

Divided Loyalties

I saw someone on the phone this morning talking about identity. Perhaps this is a vital personal discussion someone should have in a private space. It was in a shop, a bakery to be precise. It came across as somewhat alarming, amusing and at the same level very human. Not divorced from reality at all but rather an assertion of it. I made my purchase and left. The sky was pale blue. The weather less cold than I expected. It suited my disposition well. The prior night was spent working primarily. I enjoy the peace and quiet it gives me time to focus on my studies.

passed by bloodsports - weakness and fever

cut hurt aching wounded still bleeding there are tiny cuts all over my body. they won't heal they just sit there oozing blood over and over and over. I drown in my own confusion asking why. How much more can I tolerate how patient can I be why is life so difficult. why is life so shitty right now. The only things keeping me alive are the books I read, the sunshine, the promise of rain, the notion of rare films and the hope in her still. what does it mean when all this happens? why am i still alive? why do I constantly make everyone around me suffer? why am i pushed aside now? why am i living life in reverse? out of control i cry myself to sleep every night. my sheets are stained with blood from these seeping gelatinous wounds. they might one day be sealed by words of hope and forgiveness. to build life again. to lick old wounds. to let the light in again punching its way through celluloid frames. another bold distraction. this is supposed to be somewhat cathartic. to suffocate in insensitivity to asphyxiate by my own demands. such an overwhelming effort as i cling to every word uttered. i am unable to help the one i love. i am unable to help myself. i drift off yet again my hope worn thin but still as strong as ever. i want to live to build trust to see the ocean to taste... rituals. perception. perspective. i'm sick of all of it constantly flailing out there. hoping the process will reveal itself yet again so predictable and yet so memorable. how can i cope with this silence? this agony? i twitch every nerve floods my veins with disparate signals. I am drawn taut between the promise of joy and almost incomprehensible hurt. The tension is too much i talk to no one. i research patterns - the unknown - anything to help me understand what to do. I can't make a proper decision unless i have all the facts. life is an eternal process of adventure and self-preservation. lately i am less inclined at any kind of self-preservation. i twitch. my whole body shakes. the dreams the dreams the dreams I cannot talk of them now. I have disappointed so many people. perhaps i express myself badly. i have trouble communicating. i talk in obtuse rhymes something i thought she enjoyed. i wanted to open up. i wanted to conduct myself in a proper manner to treat the ones i care about with all of my heart. perhaps i give too much and leave nothing for myself except a rotten needy shell. a sick individual. i think of the songs that make me smile - but i won't get into them now. when i thought i pointed the way for so long. the attempt to understand the attempt to work it out within this sad, demanding structure i've surrounded myself with. i want to see the ocean. just to be there for once to ask why i am left behind.

what makes me happy:
thoughts said and received. an exchange of ideas. the daily process of being. remembering to stay healthy. "hello. how are you, dear?"
ridiculous silly little conversations. to be able to laugh at one's anger. the process of understanding each others emotions. to break free of this myopia.

"refuge underneath" - NCP I later this evening

the cocoon. under the mattress. self-protection. a way out.

on the air momentarily tonight after a brief pause.

a start to this weekend. this weekend. exploring the use of leisure time.

she stops. she speaks. she opens her eyes again. scratching the surface yet again.

my blood runs cold as I cannot stop shaking.

listen.

with love.... (III)

7/29/2009 - 11:38pm

Soon the rain will begin. I am lying here spending time alone - away from everything and everyone. It is quiet for once - disjunctive movement out of place. Like so many unexplained deaths. We all harbor dreams whether they appeal to us or not. Who should respond to this ideally? Who will finally break the chain of loneliness. Do it abruptly and without recourse to other, more private more disturbing things. The pleasantness you uncovered before it was given a name - an exact index for you so-called condition the only condition we're suffering from is the tyranny of the prevailing culture - the ubiquitous access to given ideas and ways of living that are hopelessly out of date. Another push for a more subtle method. She comes and kisses me over and over.

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8/2/2009 - 10:38pm

Who are we? Where are we going? How long will this take? Another slight disjunction. I still have few complaints it really is the humidity that makes a mess of my body. That and the mosquitoes. Its difficult and insensitive at times. I don't really fear what others think. Its just odd how they all seem to fall into this unbridled sense of male panic. This has led me somewhat out of curiosity to manufacture problems that aren't there - only to nullify them at the last moment. They exist as clouds of anxiety without physical shape. We rest for a moment and pause. I only feel so much joy and happiness with her. That is all - somehow my defences are breaking down. I want this to happen so much I want to be completely open - desirious of these actions. Out in the forest diagnostic exchange - a wealth of hope.

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8/3/2009 - 11:10pm

Running off into the night - exasperated still. the breeze the quiet I listen for sound and natural movements. The rhythm of breathing the distance the darkness brings my malnourished shell. Perhaps the morning will bring something new - a shelter another way of being the presence of time a new context I am alone again insufferably cannot concentrate on the smallest detail anymore. I can't even breathe properly for that matter. So what happened? Tell me everything? I feel so violently ill. I am not approaching the situation well at all. I am not even human anymore just a merciless digestive track that ravages my entire body. A point. A line. A method of being. She speaks and I listen. Make me calm. Make me breathe once again.

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8/5/2009 - 10:03pm
(gone back to the American system)

I would go out but for the fear of insects biting my hand. I look for alternative methods to coverup. The sticky wet fleshy smell. A direct acute decision - acute decision making. So begin: What do you want to know about her? Childproof messages. Why do you love her so much - without exaggeration? Filled with potential filled with so many words and ideas. Where did you come from? Where are you going? What does the future hold? What was your educational experience like? First childhood memory? Name some games you'd play indoors? outdoors? Lay out the decision-making process. Purchase for further celebrations - to cool off. The bold eclipse we all long for - consider the pattern. The fullness of her lips, her lovely thick hair - if it were only one aspect would you still love her? The fondness for sound and optimism - cassettes anchored in silence. The mist the fog before my eyes. This beauty this retreating focus - examine the portfolio. Talk for a moment if you will. I hate this place. I encourage an alternative to this meeting. A time and place to encourage this so warmly so elegantly. The beauty shines forth. I could spend a lifetime to define the why and it still won't be adequate. It still won't be wholly complete. You are open and articulate and beautiful. Where does this moment lead? We've tried to act for the best of all possible worlds. The space between our own aspects. Oh, be specific! Encourage your own relief. Plunge into the depths - categories of immense welcome. What being is this? How do I encourage our own violent ends? Talk and wake up. Produce your own range of attentiveness. Optimism. What would you like to know? If only this humidity would dissipate. How do you describe sound?

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8/12/2009 - 10:46pm

So much so that I have disappeared yet again. This is what its like where you are waiting to talk to the most exciting person in the world for you at this moment. The mind wanders. Why this silence? Give me another mundane reason. Another sound before nightfall. My mind can only tolerate so much before it changes again and lapses into a different rhythm. Recording the stunning beauty of it all. The nascent reality the conjunction of her thoughts - or is it something else? A word which doesn't exist - stapled to the inside flap of our consciousness. Yet again here silently breaking up acting out of determined consequence to maintain my own warmth. To keep breathing. This awful mess - might work - gathered in between action and reaction.

with love... (II)

6/29/2009

Welcome children. We're having the best time ever! We are on our way examining the past, present and future. Here. Finally open and still equating this with warmth and her heat, my muffled laughter. What could be better?
I move on too long. Time displaces itself. I try to put it back. I try to explain this truth here at last amidst the trees. Here we discuss space and other rich attitudes, we speak solemnly asking for a change. I wake up again. I look around. The air changed yet again. She is gone for now. Describing other attitudes, other times I should have known well. Speak of this time encounter her precious softness. We knew this was coming. Look around you yet again described the distance from here to the horizon line. They speak again - a delight in repetition. You try for a while never looking back - questioning its singularity. Your own private weakness. The pavement. The sky. This glassy reality. I try to distract myself with a new story, a new cause at length. My own worst mysteries evoked. The self I tried to give up so many years ago. They brought it out and it disappeared just as suddenly - we tried to black it out, to cancel this reality with alcohol and drugs at least that was the plan until it became its own agenda. Then everything else disappeared. I forced myself from that place - turned away in disbelief until the next cycle begins. You can't go on doing this yo have to distribute yourself, you have to let it mesh yet again to force it out of yourself somehow.

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6/30/2009

Then she spoke - sometimes that works - never too particular about time, are we? Home for the moment going through some of the archives. Quintessential love. The management of space and other bigger, larger plans - speak to this all of a sudden. Tell me what you are thinking. Iron out the insides somehow. Listening to electronic pulses at the moment.
As I said before, the words one pushed to suit the ideas - the moment in time you see immediately ahead - its all so unexpected. We desire promptness and travel without missing a beat. Lax but not stupid considering the wreckage. Another impossible trend killed off by magazines and my own tailor made glimpse of freedom. I try to remain composed in this moment. They speak to me in hushed voices as always - rushed but without regret. My heart remains the same. Mon coeur rest toujours. When did I give this up? and for how long? Present it with accuracy or don't explain it away at all. You constantly act as if the past were vague and indefinite - as if you can't properly describe what happened or even how you were brought to this point. Always upright and discouraged. Who lives like this? Who allows this to happen? Wo cannot trace a line from Point A to Point B. In this treasured place the whole of your body - its present state an accumulation of all these ideas resting taut inside of all these precious days. How can you dissuade yourself from this present? Why talk yourself out of it? The rest is far too much. I feel I cannot life without you. Rough and improper blackness blocking out time and memories I'd rather not live with.
Tell me about all these nights. Wait until your fingers cease to move. What were they like? An allocation of space and time - another trail - the struggle for pleasure. maintain control at all costs. Forever and for always. Express it as we've seen it before. Broken dilemmas - you choose to isolate yourself - the willingness of presence - she speaks. another encounter. To you it is always such dark shadow rooms, marks of expressionism and juvenalia like its always been. I am so frustrated with existence and this sad ongoing pressure without relief - does the curtain open or close? Won't your body reject it all the same?
"...just for one moment I understood: a blur of features..."
To make it as clear as possible.

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7/3/2009
The choice of narrator returns. Oh! I couldn't sleep last night. I couldn't do much of anything for that matter but to contemplate escape. A change of scenery will do me good - an altered acceptance. Consider the words. Consider the new worlds of how it all came about - another great test of my patience. I know how it seems - or maybe I don't, not really. I have to keep my mind and body in check. I have to be strong and stay stable somehow in this heat amidst thunderstorms she listens. She came to me once in a dream. How we tried to isolate our objectives - on this plain out across the sky. Someone understands this paradoxically its probably someone close by - another emotional change - a classical idiom - What proves the best way out. The happiest days - we cried so much - Now I can only stare with that dumb senseless expression on my face - asking for nothing in return.
Consequently, it is never enough. the well has opened up- her scent lingers for days. You asked for this in particular. You did. You committed it all to memory in these stolen hours. Hope is all there is. Still you press on or so she says this is again an attempt to block out the time apart - a life defined by the absence of a loved one - no matter how difficult the love may be - to translate this at once to action - to be absorbed by this space - the blueness of the sky it turns me over - I become reflective yet again. Pushed to the limits of communication - always unused to attentive listening - to direct speech. I have lived my life as a means of subverting this method. It seemed to me that direct action was somehow oppressive - that its essence was violent, perhaps. Now my mind has changed. It is something else entirely. "cultivating a distinct aversion to senseless behavior" What has a calming effect. The belief in Northern Shores - other smarter things - the need for comfort - for a different position - tell me its working here. Tell me you understand as much. You comprehend life measured on its own terms. People know you out there - live like this and they won't ever again - it all runs out and escapes me. My body flinches in arrogant dismissal. The premise was to express ideas - concrete thought - through other media. Talk about cultural aspects as a mask for something else. It seems sex is always the answer - that or the approval of affection. My body remains. It processes everything too quickly - What did you expect it to do really? Cultivate a new identity elsewhere? Ask for the remnants of a life - trace what exactly is important to you. Keep no secrets. my own sweet imagination. FINDING THE SEA. Another big commitment on your part - a zone for forgiveness. How long will this last? You've overseen it all - every subtle detail that one regarded as important or understood its final significance. The sound of the street.

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7/5/2009

Pinned against it. I wonder if my diet will ever regulate itself on any level. Somehow it seems obvious and yet so difficult. Here is the person. There is the space between. How do I reconcile this absence? What does it mean to wait like this? Let this be the first and last time. Let us understand this so very well. How must I proceed? What are the proper questions to ask at this stage? What point is there in dredging up the past anymore? Now it is silent. How things have changed? What brings me to her every second of my life? How else can I possibly exist? To give up everything that's come before.
I feel my head burst open - with all that is willing and alive. It gushes with so much potential. My own cautious ways. The trial period. The clever silver lining. The sense of space and undisclosed heaven. I watch for it and slowly attempt to understand - unswayed by popular opinion - my hand moves too fast - my mind my thoughts accelerate - I always want to block out the past as much as possible. The work of all tenants. Anything else that might keep it alive? She asked. The constant will for knowing - How to present this properly - in a somewhat exploratory vein. A rundown of the facts.
What is important to you and why? Here I am asking the larger questions in life suddenly thinking only of her. I want this chance more than anything else in life. It feels as though everything has been leading up to this moment. How is that possible? I still don't know. I don't have any solutions or words up to this point. Suddenly I am compelled to explain myself - my life so far. As sheltered as it may be.

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7/13/2009

So much to sort out in my head, so much to escape from the agonizing stretch of history and a life passing through so many changes. Space. Distance. Another happy cry - a rough solemn moment. I find it hard to trace so many things. I spend so much time full blotting out the past keeping it far far away from my existence its hard to recall anything good. You were on fire and then disappeared so suddenly. They keep this tactile and complacent. I will try to maintain my composure to not say silly things that might hurt the one I love.
That is all. It is easy and quiet to suggest.

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7/19/2009

The only hope now is to rest. Everything will be well again soon. My body is giving me trouble again. Its probably the heat - probably the moments in between that hurt so much. How did this happen? How did it all change? I suddenly wonder what might happen next. Part of me doesn't worry at all - its the rest of you that's biologically destroyed itself. Your diet killed you yet again. Its all too much yet again. I wanted to see her so much. What caused this idiocy? What led me to believe it is problematic? The only thing that is a known problem is your food intake. I can't believe I acted like such a baby. If I keep this up I will go a bit mad. I overanalyze myself too much. This cursed mind - other things are triggered in my body - things that should stay dormant.

love sent from...

older entries offered without comment.
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Solstice - 6/21/2009

Will it begin again? This legendary lifestyle choice going down in history as one of the worst decisions ever made. The promise of conquering this closeness is so critical and tempting so matter-of-fact, so necessary. I want to be made whole again. I want to experience a normal life. I never want this to end. They didn't laugh they didn't exist. I am left with my own attempts at freedom of movement perhaps. A sketch or two at this hour. Imposed in haste she cried, she laughed. The nearest I've been to love in a long time. It is pleasurable and frightening. It is everything I want it to be. A this time - in this space. Inhabiting our own happiness for a change for the acknowledgment of the greater good. I absorb her strength her energy inside me it helps me to live to continue in this daily existence. Picture it: my own recovery fulfilled with all the sweetness and violence of long ago. Those hushed silences evocative of the pleasure I feel within her. From here forever and always without discipline without anxiety without it all. Her perfection is met in her absence. In this curious space I sit alone for a change for a lifetime of wishes - explain it all to me or leave me alone, let me handle it my own way. I wait upon the couch hoping for a better, a . The fault of these attitudes the fault that makes my mind so guarded, so obtuse so unnecessarily obscured from reasonable states of being. Take to the stage take to this act take to the wetness of her thighs, the softness of her beauty. Take to this and I will find stability and hope. The door is blown open by the summer wind and I lookout at the green hills to the pastures below, and beyond that to the sea. She waits, she opens the door, she confirms herself once again to me. Once again before my eyes her unquestionable beauty. I am still in shock but maintain composure. What keeps me conscious I'll never know. It is one of those insights she's born upon herself to disclose. I lie and smile like a gibbering idiot my mind vacant as my body gives itself over to her sheer physicality. To her lifeline to her irresistable smell. Something should be said for all of this. How quick, how sudden, how accepting. We nudge ourselves forward. Its time to speak at this moment to exercise oneself cry with tears in your eyes another solemn victory for your own sake. We exist we continue we proceed we carry on. Huge swathes of people exist in the harshest conditions this planet has to offer. It is like this the assumption there is no suspicion, there is no one to thank but yourself in these dreams you come across a river that cut through the forest. Upon that answer for innocence at all cost it is within your nature within you heart to let this go to let it proceed under the will of god or your own sedentary instincts we'd asked for this many times before. Now its finally here in between your hands like sand in the proverbial hourglass.
She stops. She speaks. She asks questions. I resign myself to a quick smile a moment of compassion. I use all my strength to hold back the tidal wave of heart my heart my resistance is wearing thin my body needs this space. I define it in any other way in any other terms "mon coeur reste toujours" my heart remains the same. To take the place of emotion I let the sound or the image express what I cannot what I am resisting. Our own pieces of luck and beauty. Strife exuberance when the moment calls for it. A quiet sound. "to make sense of this din" To capture my impressions of this life this cement experience that has moved me enough to write. To hunt for something marginally adequate. Something that cried out for pen and paper. Away from the screens. I am here at once without her presence. Such is all of this story. Such is all of this life.
It is still somewhat wet and bright outside. Another week of rain is on its way. Another moment stepping outside of time. Into this pleasurable act. My limited vocabulary dulls the impact of these words. None too critical then. Another lifeless form. Why be so quiet about it?
"How could you be left like this?"
"What happened to you?"
The desolation grows - why have I become so trite? The moment that begins pelase stop me. push me outside the circle. The weekend is yours - welcome to the tyranny of freedom. Why be so cagey about this? Speak direct clear thoughts don't leave her trapped in the vagaries of your soul. "Why are you still like this?" That is the real precise point. if I am a wave then let me crash upon the shore.
Why did you choose to make a sphere? The simplest and most basic of all things - the least complex and least impressive. The beauty of space (and how many times can I shift the same words around)
Met with the cruelty of the world in all its suffering madness. She isn't speaking. She stares at you with those eyes of hers and you can't help but smile as all your fears drift away. What should I know about this? How is it relevant? How has your body changed yet again? The waves lap upon the shore. You feel the wet sand under your feet as you look out to the horizon line lucky it hasn't been obscured by the approaching cloudmass. The structure you cam from is on the hill above you. Consider the landscape consider what effect this space has on you. We exist waiting for the right moment holding back the tears. Never having to explain myself to her but at the same time unable to sate her curiosity. What gift is this! What presence! Its all so sudden its all so hard to process instead I find myself away again on the beach caressed by the sands of time.
The gift of her body. The gift of this life its finally changed me. Moving to this revelation. To this icy blue presence. "the blue light of peace and lonliness"
Seeing as its almost time.
Seeing as you know me. Seeing as you said so. The biggest hope is what she radiates. Give existence a chance this time. Why dredge up those memories? Its easy enough - fears you haven't confronted perhaps? Following the right choice without a care in the world. At last the spirit of traveling away with purpose - an accurate sense of life. Of the child she once was and the sheer loneliness of it all. As long as we understand each other. At once approaching the question: Who am I? What have I done to cultivate this reality? Everything and more - all pathways lead to this sense of belonging. We've seen you around these parts before. Cultivate a new presence. The old records sound just as good as they ever did. The dxx(?)ken scales approach the precise endpoint of their existence.
In this town everyone looks the same. We are insistent on presenting a proper manner of speech.
I've been looking over the old journals briefly - another place, another time they bring back such laughs and sadness. The context of the story our own reticent beginnings wracking my brains for choice of thought - hoping to subside on it all piece by piece. The crux of the investigation leading backwards amidst all those awful acceptances we happen to know how brilliant she's become. Another guiding voice as I shiver innocently. Looking out across the bay.
What purpose does the landscape serve?
How does it manifest itself?

Quiet Life

These past few days have been wondrous in their quiet. The rupture from such tumultuous anxiety over the weekend has fully subsided. I feel changed, calmer, better more whole. I have to attend to things more grounded in reality or certain aspects thereof to put my life in order and stabilize its rhythms. Of course this is all already here at once this time living simultaneously alongside the constant changes of life. For once I have so much to look forward to, so much to be thankful for.

the mind ran away with it

This has been one of those weeks when the life of the mind overtakes me. It plays tricks on me as I wait for a sign, a moment, an act. Perhaps that is the problem: my mind has been focussed on that action, that is to say: future plans - tan any present project. That is apart from the usual blindly sentimental process of perpetuating life: maintaining my physical presence- keeping it one step away from total disrepair. I look out beyond the aching plains towards the roar of the ocean contemplating the depth of the waters. It has a terrifying and yet calming effect. I continue blindly asking myself how to move forth. What direction for this next wave of passion (?) Perhaps my body's rhythms are directing my mind's thoughts yet again chained to something inexplicably base and yet vital. You've heard it before. The view to the horizon line unblocked by buildings untarnished by memory. Will I be left here to sort out all the pieces I tried to put away? Spots of memory I have yet to understand - yet to - but it all takes time.

It always began with a view - an attempt to evoke a particular mood more than anything else. The silence that unfolds and slowly kills me - on one level conversation is good so long as it is productive - criticism has its place so long as these designs maintain their original shape. If only: we create rhythm to protect ourselves to span across the desolate nights protected by nothing but the promise of a new hopeful sound.

action by degrees

An attempt to maintain balance, to understand what is correct in this situation, to move away from the idea that every moment is of consequence, an attempt to relax. when will this occur? I didn't sleep well last night. Perhaps I need more discipline, more structure to achieve my aims. I cannot continue to be plagued with things that are beyond my control. Perhaps its the effect of the Trap, the cumulative idea that's started to germinate, the one item that i thought i'd put behind me, why is it here again? I have to stay focussed. I have to maintain the sense that I am doing the right thing, the sense that things are alright as they are, that I have done enough with what time I have. I always want to know more but one cannot constantly be barraged with questions, things will come about in time. Wonderful things. I have to allow this to become as it is. There is no point in pushing someone in a certain direction, if that person wants to be there then it will happen. I see no need in worrying about such things. And yet I have, or at least perhaps this is all a consequence of my diet, perhaps I just need time to get myself into a proper rhythm and everything will follow from that. It is better to have specific goals to work towards to at least have the illusion of achievement. That said, I think I've done pretty well so far. I met a beautiful woman and will do everything in my power not to lose her. I've never felt more strongly about someone in such a long long time. Its been over three months now and things are going very well. I need to focus on this more, to direct my energies to help us achieve our goals. I feel that there is so much promise here. I wish I could rest today or use this time to get my life in order, some sort of mental health option, to selfishly pursue all the things I did not get to yesterday. It will have to wait until after work today. Another week begins, I have to be alert and pay attention to my work now.

deus ex machina

Perhaps that's what is it needed in this instance. A final resolute option. It all sounds so silly to me- the escape, the moment, the time elapsed - it all pales in comparison to the mark of history to the examples presented before me to this foregrounded sentiment to the rashness of the spectacle and my uninhibited expectations. This will never be taken for granted. The caving in to another's selfish desires - something else that yearns for mistolerance, that exists only to keep this presence away from me. Oh that I were not bound by such material concerns and plagued with mundane commitments. Is it really so much easier to let that drift out of concern for others - to walk away and isolate oneself? To act like the myopic and the driven? Where is the perspective in this scenario? Where is the push for the alright? Where is the motion to give this birth meaning? I am left with a collection of gestures and caresses. What has the light given me in this respect? A moment of silence, a moment with which to process this yet again, unaccounted for traumas. I wish this would all be deciphered. I hope to stand on firm, solid ground again. The strains of weakness and fever echo in my head - the eye and the hand. The call to break this cycle of repetition.

their terrain

Every time I look into her eyes I feel such joy and wonder at the same moment. Is this what people do? Sit around not speaking just staring into each others eyes for minute after minute looking at each other finding out where it all connects. Waiting for the the moment the rough and the smooth finally meet.

Tonight i walk out into the rain again. Define sound as it rests upon my ears.

Lest we baguette

Suddenly I'm home after a bit drinking with my roommates. I realize this is raw and uncouth however I quite like it. I'm Listening to the FIRE ENGINES wondering why more people haven't heard of the genius that is the this band from Scotland. I will endevour to do my best to remedy this situation. (for give the grammar and misspellings) as if it were a remedy for past transgressions i hope for the future as manic impressions linger on and the truth comes fast and hard into this reality I look for consequence I wish i was in in Montreal for the summer to bask in the sun and enjoy the onslaught of music that the Quebecquois succumb to in such a fashion. I want to see the rest of Canada but Montreal has so much to offer its hard to give up. I work and I life towards this point.

It Seems

I never have time for this any more. I'd actually set aside some time this morning for this express purpose but now things have changed yet again. I'll have to look at this after work. I can't bear to have people looking over my shoulder while I am typing. Its too much. Needless to say, I want to get into so many issues that have been on my mind of late. I've had several busy weekends, I don't see the activity subsiding any time soon.

the gift she gave to me

the gift she gave to me - its often difficult for me to think of something harder, something explicit and concrete, anyone who has followed my whereabouts for any period of time is all too aware of this. its all sight, all touch, all sense-impressions mixed with abstract thought-- the love of the idea over the reality. the manner in which one frames an event, no matter how ridiculous. as long as it has an over arching purpose, or is explicitly the opposite, strangely all surface, it somehow keeps my interest, it goes beyond any kind of rational inquiry. oh, how i wish it would warm up a bit, so i could go for a long walk without freezing, so i wouldn't feel so housebound all the time. the inquiry continues: i answer with my petty troubles, my upset, my sweet discontent. i keep my body within a certain degree of control, that is my ambition anyway- it probably is as far from the truth as possible. my mind goes away again dreaming. a few moments ago, as I was walking home, i wondered about nostalgia, and whether it is by definition somewhat sugar coated, my inclination is to say no, that would be too sentimental, too kitsch. nostalgia can have an endearing harsher edge. i try to remember the good times, but too often sadness is mixed with joy, too often what i wish for nearly comes true. i can sense when something isn't entirely right, or when it will meet my expectations up to a point. i know i shouldn't force the issue but there are times when, well times when i feel i need to push it just to get answers, just to learn, how to plan my next move, when to persist and when to sit and wait. i am reminded of the silent, color 8mm bits of Alain Tanner's "Dans la ville blanche" (In the white city)-- what a beautiful film.

Rainy Days in New England

I've been listening to the brilliance that is the new July Skies album, The Weather Clock, for the past week and a half. This isn't really a proper review by any means, as I have some work to attend to but can't do much of anything until the disc is over-- its too compelling somehow. At the moment, I could listen to the track "the Girl on the Hill" over and over and over again. It comes at the right point in the album (being track three) it is quite a gift to the listener. As I haven't been doing radio for the past month, I've been lucky enough to see some good friends occasionally. In the meantime, I've spent it reading, listening to music and watching some British tv. Programs I grew up with, like Death of an Expert Witness, the PD James story, with Roy Marsden as Adam Dalgliesh.

The disc is over now. I have to run some errands before the rain starts again.

parle moi...j'ai des choses a te dire

and so i wait and i wonder what might happen next. the feeling of distance overwhelms me. i make time by reading and exploring media-- its no excuse for pure experience. i am encouraged by this somewhat, considering the snow outside, the presence of words, the way she crafts a sentence or a tilt of her head. perhaps i finish books too fast-- i have to start another-- this inbetween time, when i'm not reading or focussing on something is too dangerous. i stop to wonder and think-- blurring the lines of common sense. letting my essence go for once-- out there, in the sunlight, taking a walk wondering when she might arrive again. current projects, apart from music reviews, include finishing "watching wildlife" by Cynthia Chris, starting "rogue male" by Geoffrey Household, starting a viewing of "Life on Earth" by David Attenborough, reconnecting with the world again. there are so few people i really want to see now-- and those i do live away from here.