On a cliff and he moves

the freewheeling writer with the cool scarf and always with a quick response moves to the second most expensive city in the world because thats what people do these days, that other city is so incredibly done now the way London was in the 80s or was it the 90s anyway who cares, not him, not me I wasn't there, I wasn't anywhere, my late nights were first the internet and then with Camus as I found out 3 years later, and the other frenchies, who knew i really did have a thing for older men after all, no not like that, but so yes it helps to have the official career to fall back on, people love that, the old Janus thing, wow so you're really a X? well no not really it's been ages but the money's good and what with the new missus and all soon there will be children and you know how it is with children, all the toys and eating and the understanding looks from other harried parents, it's been so long she said, jiggling Junior on her knee, how have you been? to hell and back, but i got a map this time, i said, reaching for my bag to show her, oh sorry no i said how, not where, she cooed apologetically, oh, i said, yes sure i'm fine, thanks for asking, she's a busy mother of two, other concerns, you know, oh great so you're feeling better now? she said as she adjusted Junior's collar and wiped some drool off his fleshy, latex-like chin, the slightest pause, sure, yes, much, another coffee then for you?

This Time

Words fail and save at the same time.

Money clings, leaves shiny invisible trails like a leopard slug, erodes crevasses that must be filled with something else when it disappears.

I remember him again and I don't know why.  Is this my mind, in its caged state, pacing and looking for more memories to finally scrub free forever?

*

There was never a heart to begin with.  It only existed to aid respiration, not to love.

why can't we forget people?

Why do we forget the lovely ones?

Music, the other form of transport.

I breathe, and shift, and aim for a little better next time.








*Bazaar Magazine

What The World Gave Me

like i am digging for treasure, and i had a rough map. dig, dig, dig, dig. THUNK. ‘what the hell was that’ .. dig, dig…. clunk. some timber is revealed. I leap into the deep hole and fall to my knees to shove off more dirt and try to see what i’ve uncovered. Yes, it might be The Thing i was searching for. shit, it’s bigger than I thought. Must keep digging. feverishly but knowing i might be onto something. hope. fear. distractions, exhaustion. dirty. what is IN this?!! I can't stop now: obsessed. Only good cam come of this. Dig more. 

Your Roots

One (late) evening I suddenly realised - no, decided - that I wasn't going to buy any argument around the notion of family relationships which are fixed and unchanging.  I don't know where I picked that up from in the first place. 

Something about leaving home and our relationships with other householders - I won't stick with Ma / Pa / Sis / Bro because, many people clearly don't grow up with those simple family connections.

My point is that when we (I) quit the nest, these relationships sort of freeze in time.  Our concept of who that person is, the power they had, or didn't have, with us or over us, our understanding of who that person is.  

Moving back home as an adult, whilst derided by some, has drastically changed how I perceive, relate to, communicate with, and understand my mother.  With some effort I have also achieved the same with my father.  I say some effort because he lives a long way away but travels here from time to time.   I think I have brought about this change by consciously deciding to understand how I was shaped by my environment as a child.   

Being an adult and forcing myself to really, truly see my parents as adults who, as a young married couple were themselves struggling (consciously or not) with their own histories, allowed me to begin relating with more compassion for them as well as myself. 

stitchedupheart's guide to recovering from heartache/break/remake

1. Whisky.

2. Get away, as far as you can. To a place you've never been before.  Preferably with a foreign language.

3. Give thanks for the men (or women) who remain excellent in your life.  Spend time with them.

4. Complete communication ban on correspondence with Ex-partner.

5. Keep a journal at hand for sudden realisations or moments when you need to write (NOT SMS) "I F*CKING HATE THAT STUPID F*CKING C*CKSUCKER*  Because (1) Writing is so much more cathartic than a pissy little text message, and (2) it's good to flick back after a few months and see your thought process evolve.

6. Head held high, you are still worthy.

7. Take the time to work out really, truly where things went wrong.  Read some good authors on relationships, see a counsellor or therapist.  Reflect. Respond, self-knowledge is king. 

8. Do whatever you need to do to get through this, and look after yourself.

9. Be the better person.  Don't gripe publicly or to anyone other than closest confidant(e)s.  For everyone else: "It just wasn't working out."

 in really truly working out career (ugh hate that word, is there another one?) path options now, the most brilliantly successful people truly become that way through just forging a path based on their own unique vision, nothing less. reinforces for me the importance of backing yourself, having faith in what you do – that it will be picked up sooner or later and yes sometimes (often) some hustle is involved, just start, there’s no right way, feel your way, read around, learn from others, conduct a couple of interviews, absorb how the world turns on both collaboration and clearing your own path.

The whole point is that you’re here to be YOU. F*ck everything else. Sure, gather some tips, refine and get to know the you-ness, temper the rough edges _IF_ you feel a need but remember the rough edges are also the unique part. Mick Jagger didn’t get famous for behaving on stage like everyone else, Kate Bush didn’t become Kate Bush for sounding like everyone else,  Fernando Alonso isn’t #1 in the Grand Prix because he sticks to the speed limit.  Captain Paul Watson didn't start Sea Shepherd because he thought that someone else was already taking care of things.  

Hack through the tangled jungle of other people's ideas with a machete of pride and self-determination, light your way in shadowed valleys with the flaming torch of your desires; use your inspired vision to seek out a path of identity as you go through the indistinguishable undergrowth...and travel along the engineered, floodlit highways of expectation with reckless abandon.