Under my umbrella(ella,ella,eh,eh,eh)

I fell in love [with you] again tonight.

With the world.
The night air streaming past my face was perfect.
Cool, not cold.
Sweet, but not overpowering.

Rolling on the cement laughing ("She was set in her old ways.. So old and.. set."), the possum, climbing poles and claiming my tree...
My tears barely dry on your hoodie and we're laughing again.
Thank you, Lara. Friends fo' life, yo. :P "Fork" :D

This is what it's like to breathe.

These violent delights have violent ends

I will post it to remind me how you said it.. I liked the way you use to breathe it rather than speak....
From 100 Love Sonnets
by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: Where “I” does not exist, nor “You”, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

This time I might.. to ask the sea for answers

"Two seedy, drunk[en dyke]s on swings in a children's park at 1am"
A 'Frin Doust Productions' Installation Piece.

(We.. understood each other. I'd almost let myself forget.. forced myself to forget.
I apologise.
Kind of missed you.)

Ugh, there's so much that I thought I'd remember but I don't. I guess 12 cans isn't too bad for one night (I found another in the morning on my way to the OM - getting posters from Peta, my left hand slightly sticky and green from where the alcohol spilt on me when I picked it up). -Feeling slightly hypocritical, but I won't apologise to myself (yes I do things I don't believe in; deal and move on, self).

"You are an innocent."
I've heard that twice, recently. Once from the drunken stranger [David] on the bus stop bench.. and from her. She who knows me better than most anybody (perhaps only bested by Kaylie)... that almost scares me.

Something along the lines of "Tora; god of [nudity in] physical theatre" and Steven "In league with Amanda"

----
What about the concept of the "Consolation Prize" [almost an oxymoron] ?
The statement 'Impossible to quantify' [in everything it could ever be apply to] comes to mind.
----
He is what you deserve and I... I must go.. leave you to your happiness and find myself my consolation prize (between a rope, a knife, a bottle or a teddybear).
----
It's 'anachronism'.."temporally incongruous" "eccentric" they all apply.. except, there isn't yet a time in which I belong.
Unique, like all [human]s.
----

I wonder if any of my friends ever stumble upon this would they understand the references? Could they place the moments? Would they even recognise themselves through my eyes?

Perhaps I'm just trying to be clever, but it feels like living vicariously through myself.

It's still cold in Alaska

I will be ok.

You're worried for me and I understand that.. but it only serves to undermine me.
Saying I don't have confidence (What the Hell would YOU know about me anyhow? When was the last time you came to see me perform? When was the last time you Listened, even? "Yes, that's nice dear...." I ASKED YOU A DAMN QUESTION) makes me loathe you for you lack of understanding. You're not helping. I did not ask for your assistance.

"Hell is other people."

The air in here is... wrong. Stale. Old. Dusty, almost. Uncomfortably warm.
A "I need to get out" moment.

-
2 hours later

I climbed over a steamroller and left three plastic pink flowers on its roof. Its wheels were taller than I.

Using the bull-bar of a semi-trailer as a ladder I traversed from the cab to the back on shaky legs. It was higher than I expected and the lactic acid in my calves wasn't going to let me forget how easy it would be for me to fall onto the pavement below.
But then I found stillness.
'Finding stillness'... it's a concept I'm quite familiar with, but I've never [truly] appreciated what it involves until that moment.

There's a quality to finding things you are not seeking.

Ash Wednesday

"If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word."


There is so much in my head.. yet to explain it, I do not know how to begin...
The infinity of it all... the fragility and the expansive everything.
From the macro to the micro.. there is nothing unremarkable. (It's almost too much..)

Is it possible to share the tranquillity of being alone?
I would be content to sit and smoke [with you].


[No, the irony of T. S. Eliot's death from Emphysema is not lost on me]