All entries for April 2005
April 26, 2005
Hello all you fantabulous people, please checkout the genius that is Mr Labond Gozey and his Bull Poetry
Fearometer: 5 (the pink marshmallow conquers the fear yet again!)
The strangest change overcomes you once you pass a little way out of the fear. Your previous life seems as a waking dream. A place which you recollect as in a photograph from childhood but have lost the map too. Of course it still stalks you from the shadowy periphery of your mind…where your field of vision ends there it dwells, biding its time.
And so you feel a little sad for its passing. And think about all of the things you block out with the fear. But perhaps this is necessary just to lead everyday life, just to step outside.
April 22, 2005
Today turned into another spare day, a day in which my sole activity was having intentions. So time slipped delicately from my grasp in a pleasing way. I discovered that you can still feel sad whilst enjoying yourself, it just lurks, dormant. And this sadness will not bother you untill you attempt to do anything specific at which point it will awaken and prevent you from achieving very much until eventually you succumb, resigned and return to drifting…
And dulled synapses aren't displeasing. Break down the day into small tasks, but then a hyperactive mind adds alsorts of needless tasks, untill its midnight and its time to return to the release of sleep, and those lost hours. But they're not lost, just past, and I have a nameless ammount more. I dont think being the master of time would be something I'd like. Im more comfortable to be gently ruled.
April 21, 2005
Fearometer: 4 (Is this ominous?)
Be too exact and you'll fall into contradiction. Toe the gossamer line between insight and senselessness. Try stoicism, discover the value of rejecting it whilst in an idle poetry seminar. Part company with the fear like jaded lovers in a one night stand that went on for too long. Its still there like an old pair of slippers, awaiting your return.
The other end of the scale brings its own problems. Too high above to do any work – the giddyness is too delicious, and everything is so bloody amusing, although you cant for the life of you work out why.
Moderation is the only tenable route for contentment. But then you've never been terribly good at that. It has to be amplified or it'd be boring after all. And what would you have to show the good patches in the gilded relief they deserve.
But you're determined not to fall so far this time, checks and balances and a regime with tablets and swimming. Don't talk about it, the playgound jinx threatens. Keep moving even if you ont know where you're going to. A moving target can't be hit.
April 13, 2005
Adrift in a small town I am aware that I have now reached the age at which I have regrets. The wrecage of previous events in my life still remain where they lay, the corner where something was said, the street where something was spoken of for the last time, the pub where something was left unsaid. I wasn't warned that Id have to participate in life like this- I thought Id be able to sit back nonchalently and admire the cinematography. I didn't realise I would have to feel things, or that a conversation could be so bittersweet. The timeframe I have in this town is different now, I pick up where I left it, like a friendship. But time moves on. I try to keep this place sealed in the past. But it isn't mine any longer. It never was.