12th, September, 2010

Serotonin. Gotta love it. Four weeks in my new place and I’m finding a groove. Smiling, I began work on my first ever “installation’ today.

Later, as I revisited that feeling, the one that starts with a gasp and ends in laughter, I became concerned that bats and toads have been sorely misrepresented..

7th, August, 2010

Another move and I’m resting in a new peace. I won’t miss the other house at all. Miserable years are best left behind. There are trees here and wildlife and neighbours who wish me good day, but my most pleasing discovery is that my dearest friend watches me still from above. I need to talk and her apparent desire to listen pleases me greatly. She is my witness and my guide. No one has influenced me more.

8th, July, 2010

Today’s been a day of giving up. All inaction animated, visible, cornered.

7th, July, 2010

I’ve been a vegetarian for several weeks now. No meat, no fish; not even eggs (well, unless they’ve slipped into a cake somewhere and I do so love a face full of cake). Learnt a couple of things, so far. Controlling yourself takes a bit of dedication to the purpose. Go figure. Secondly, stereotyping is ubiquitous. I get asked why I’ve made this choice quite a lot, but they don’t want my answer. They want the whole ‘meat is murder’ schtick so, being amenable, that’s what they get and it matters not one jot that I display absolutely no sense of conviction to the cause; they will not be swayed from their pre-recorded stance. Still, I think that in some obscure way, discovering I’m a vegetarian has helped them make sense of the fact that I don’t own a television. In that regard, I’m glad I could help.

21st, June, 2010

I’ve just watched the sun slip off the end of the world while bats tear silhouettes through a sky of peach and darkest lilac and it’s good to know that all this beauty lives within me. To spend as much time as possible in this part of my soul is my most pressing ambition.

29th, May, 2010

Yesterday’s journey northward left me half an hour from two eleven and I can’t pretend it was easy. My heart called to be rescued in a flurry of the fantastic. Such dreams, cyclical still from high to low, carry skeletons of keys and implausible openings.

Forcing myself to dilute all this with smiles from the beautifully talentless gives me time to reflect.

21st, May, 2010

I looked at the stars tonight. This love is finding its way to peace.

19th, May, 2010

I was going to write something about today, but I’ve had trouble knowing where to start. I think it’s our addiction to numbers; the creeping new god of this laughably self-titled age of secular science disguised by its ubiquitous ‘digitry’. Zero endings demand apocalyptic global catastrophe or, at the very least, some kind of personal epiphany. Wood hides inside trees, sniggering.

So, the world hasn’t ended. Epiphanies? Epiphan-ettes, maybe. Here I am, alone, and it’s never what I wanted for myself. However, it is what I expected. That has to be important. Also, it occurs to me that, compared to many, I’ve got it pretty easy. For the life of me, I can’t understand why I haven’t felt this before.

Happy birthday, Ho Chi Minh, Malcolm X and me.

15th, May, 2010

I’ve seen some things over the last nine days. I smiled all the way through a wedding. My reception, incognito, delivered warmth from the mouth’s of strangers. Didactic times; within, without, fear and understanding fire volleys in matching pairs, yet they whistle by. My path remains clear. I have, at last, come to see the beauty in vulnerability. Some things exist beyond the narratives of men. I have, in the bosom of my family, witnessed re-runs of an affliction’s nascency and beg forgiveness for a man who knew no better. I know more, now. Now, I wear my favourite trainers in the garden.

26th, April, 2010

Smoothly, fingers return the oils to my tired, old feet (with some special attention to the nails) and she knows nothing of my humility. The places her mind has travelled tumble from her lips; drama enhanced decolletage. Delicate, definite lines of excitement form my focussed point as she races from here to there and I am absorbed, nowhere, feeling her everywhere. From time to time she invites my enticement and her cheeky, perfect smile tells me all I need to know about my silliness. The scolding mask of another silence is blinded.

Bats are in the garden tonight.

20th, April, 2010

Where would a heartbroken, lovesick masochist take himself on a sunny day trip? Here, it seems. Tricky at first. A journey whose essence held a hint of deception; adulterous, almost. Admiring myself for admiring the fabrics she would have loved so much. But then, on the first floor gallery, staring at the body modification exhibits, my friend appeared, hands on the railings next to mine, smiling as though no time had passed at all. Truly, madly, deeply and everything. All around and through me I heard the cry, “It has to be beautiful.” And it was.

Peace lives somewhere beyond truth and the truth is that I have made a temple of my misery. My visits to Kelmarsh are helping.

4th, April, 2010

Today, I sowed a meadow. A healthy handful of wildflower seeds spread carefully at the bottom of the garden between the lilac trees and the apple orchard; May and September should be beautiful (but not as beautiful as you). I noticed tiny pink buds on a fuchsia (I remember how to pronounce it) I was sure had died. I should have known that nothing ever truly dies.

28th, March, 2010

Out of the blue, a real shitty day. A reminder of a powerful spell. I don’t know why it has surprised me so when recent observations have noted a clearly accelerating rhythm.

Be true to yourself. The very vagueness of the cliche seems entirely designed to wilfully entice abuse from the ego it purports to guide.

A few days away might help.

22nd, March, 2010

I could hardly believe my eyes. Five UFOs, just moments ago. Piercingly bright glowing orange and not a sound to be heard. One by one they passed over, following identical paths as if tethered. Rational mind working overtime to explain, but I’m too busy feeling to listen.

13th, March, 2010

Additions: Time Capsule, AirPort with AirTunes and a Magic Mouse. Gorgeous. Loving my Mac. Remote speakers, iTunes; loving my music again, too. Excellent sound from the Harmons now that I’ve positioned the subwoofer and you’ll never guess who suddenly sounds amazing (yes, of all people). Confession; Mike Patton is, after all, an extraordinary talent.

I feel like moving, again. I don’t like it here. This place feels full of ghosts. Not the friendly type. Strangers to me, all. The only plus is the huge night sky, but as I’ve decided to stop looking up for a while, a new place may breathe life into my nascent catharsis.

18th, February, 2010

It’s almost 11pm and its snowing flakes the size of 50p pieces. Staring straight up into the sky a moment ago, it was so beautiful I giggled with glee.

14th, February, 2010

Our time here is finite ensuring our encounter with these flesh bound hearts is all too brief and every beat out of tune with another is a shameful waste of all the unused love that lies coiled and chained in its prison of wanting. I have traded bliss (imagine this egocentric tragedy) for pettiness turning benign points of no consequence into a crown of the most foolish golden thorns. I’ve been thinking two thirds gone when half as much again could be mine. Better get my happy suit pressed.

10th, February, 2010

I’ve finally done it. I’ve gone all apple and I love it. I’ve traded in my PC faith and joined the believers.

My old box and collection of assorted cables (oh, how I won’t miss those cables) and a few pounds got me a hardly used, 10 month old MacBook. All dolled up in its aluminium dress, it parades with its honour guard of groovily transparent Harmon & Kardon speakers. The subwoofer in luminescent blue reminiscent of a jellyfish, animation suspended.

I see an AirPort with AirTunes on the horizon.

1st February, 2010

They told me a year of anniversaries and the worst of it would be over. They didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about.

December 17th, 2009

I stand in the kitchen, warm. I’m baking, measured and precise. Contentment; mirage. The stage my heart chooses is outside where the merciless wind howls its cruel and frozen song. Let loose, here, I feel belonging. I think they want me. I will join them soon.

November 29th, 2009

There was a beautiful willow across the way. It stood tall and proud; graceful. Yesterday, someone cut it down. As they dismembered it piece by piece, the gruesome scene was framed by the biggest double rainbow I’ve ever seen. For a moment I thought the desecration would stop. I thought the magnificent juxtaposition would be noticed in all its mind-awakening glory. I was mistaken. There was a beautiful willow across the way.

Today I ironed seven shirts. SEVEN!!!

November 19th, 2009

There is an image, a favourite icon, that was once gifted to me with so much love I felt a treasured ownership. Now that avatar (as avatars are wont to do) walks openly in the world of mortal men for all to see and I feel a certain sense of loss revisited. But of course, it was never mine to own.

Happy half-birthday to me x

October 27th, 2009

From time to time I discover a run of hits on a particular page on Black Reliquary. I find it intriguing and cute.

A couple of months ago saw Super Bear get an awful lot of attention from Washington State down to Chile with several places in between before darting off to Spain and even the Far East. I imagined they had all finally discovered my truth.

More recently a particular poem has had some attention, but, at the moment, everyone seems to want to hold hands. They’re doing it in Munich and in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, too (can’t you just imagine Jimmy Stewart living there or maybe Doris Day).

October 22nd, 2009

Looking up at the ever present constellation that rules my evening skies, I whispered, “Hello, Honeybear.” No sooner had the scarcely perceptible sweetness left my lips when the longest shooting star I have ever seen flashed across the heavens.

I am reminded of distant conversations about isolated lands with strange and beautiful civilisations where my shooting star could be no accident.

I choose to believe.

October 21st, 2009

A little over three weeks ago, I thought I could close this site. I wouldn’t miss it much. In fact, leaving it behind would bring a certain freedom. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I missed it very much. I know that writing here, I’m pretty much talking to myself, liberally self-swathing in my fabric of delusion, but I do find it comforting at a time when comfort is in such short supply.

I have beautiful memories here.

September 22nd, 2009

I’m finding it hard to be part of the view. It’s like a scene from Paperhouse. Cut out, glued on and backlit. The perspective is leaning, sliding, drawn from confusion and I resist stepping through in case the doorway behind disappears.

Of course, my skin carries on as though none of this is real or, at least, as though none of this matters and wanders the path of necessity seemingly painlessly unaware of its voiceless passenger.

I have to trust my skin.

September 18th, 2009

The wind has stopped and the sky with it so the Bear reveals herself to me once more and we talk as the parish church practises that post-wedding peel I don’t know the name of and I listen, enchanted.

Loneliness descends as I realise the frailty of my position. If I could spend just one day seeing myself through her eyes I could, perhaps, fix it all, but this can never be so and all I am left with is the semantics of fear and mistrust.

September 15th, 2009

These curious skies of recent nights have brought turmoil to drama. The clouds have broken free of all control and are choosing their own direction, yet seem united in a common cause. They hurry with a purposeful vigour to a destination as secret as the darkness that hides behind. I feel some comfort in the realisation that the silent darkness is both my enabler and my witness.

In the daylight hours, I see Autumn creating this year’s design in green with flecks of captivating beauty and I feel, as I must, the eyes that once looked upon me with love. Such bittersweet joy must be served with hope and savoured.

September 8th, 2009

I’ve been planning this for a while and I’m not sure how it will go, but my intention is to use this space to try to remove some of the vagueness I’m all too inclined to hide behind. I’m not sure how this will evolve and I don’t expect to be writing here every day. However, I do feel quite certain that something positive can be gained from the process.

A visitor of sorts got me thinking today. I dedicate this beginning to her.

It’s been a little over a month, now, since I moved to my new home. Acclimatisation has been slothfully steady. Although the house could do with some tender loving care, I, on the whole, welcome the options it provides. I see salvation in the garden and the huge skies are a welcome source of perspective. The Bear floats above and over me every night. I talk to her and I am reminded of love and loving.

Reading has been difficult in recent months. I began Dracula, but the format and accents wore me down. I put it down unfinished and without the feeling that I’d return to it anytime soon. Its romance is now mine and I’m grateful for that. The only Roth I could find via the charitable route was the only one I knew I didn’t want to read. One chapter of overly analysed wank guilt was all that I could stand of that particular complaint. John Bayley, however, has opened my eyes in such a lovely inspiring way. Outside of pure fiction, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man describe his experience of falling in love. At least, not in any depth. I’ve only read the first chapter of Iris, but I already feel thankful for having done so.

I still miss you in every part of every day.