oh dear

it's late night again, the terminus of half the half formed and guessed at shapes. i woke up this morning laughing, literally. i had said something exhaustingly funny to a dream character and i was laughing at the erudite and witty comeback when i woke up and promptly forgot the whole dream*.

i do this all the fucking time; thinking of something in the moments before/during sleep. some times i distill the concept into a few words and this i chant it like a mantra, as if to chisel it into my forebrain. hell i've even begun creating elaborate associations between the concept and people or places, to create a labyrinth of thought so that the stray idea won't wander off without some wool tied to it's wrist. but of course i succeed at is waking up to remember that i should have remembered something...

here's a self fulfilling line of thought for you, this blog almost entirely attempts to point to me, yet in this space i remain anonymous. regardless that this anonymity is really only whisper thin, given that only 3 people actually read it {and i love you all dearly for it.} this is currently my only attempt at actualisation, i can't yet tell you why i stall on almost every other project, but thankfully this is something i actually do.

perhaps i should point outwards some more, allow myself some degree of fandom and approbate those things which make me smile just to think of them.... more to follow.

in other news, the project with aleksi is nearing something of a thrilling climax, at last telling we were 2.5 pages away from completion, again, i'd abstain from breath holding, but when it is completed there will be a newcastle sized debut in a gallery with some small publicity. i'll be sure to let you peeps know when things are a moving for real.

fuck you, bright red babboon arse's,
stay out of my son's algebra classes!


*it was something like "well i used to babysit toni braxton, and spoon feed [forgotten]"

-{}--{}--{}--{}--{}-

i tried to communicate to my nephew that life is better every single day.

(i is not saying that i failed, only that i tried,)



now, he is 8,
and facing what i faced at 8,
the prospect of his parent's dissolving their union.
so for him, things stand to worsen,
(youth craves status quo, even more so ithan knowledge.)


he says to me, "but things can get worse" with the fleeting earnestness that the young sometimes muster,
flirting with certainty.

something in my fibre shudders, this is what a zealot feels.
this is faith,
i, having seen the seasons turn on many score a union
having seen the way we let ourselves be in those places,
having tasted passion and rejection in equal measure,
having found it was i's love that sustains i, not another's...
i know that the desire for statis destroys desire for life,
that the perception of worsening is self loathing repackaged.

how can i suppose this imposition on to him?

into that small, earnest face, i would pour my life.
as though i could pluck the tremendous weight of 25 years
and set it to drift, no heavier than a thought, into his tiny being.
oh the horrors i could spare him ...

but,

not wishing to sputter his truth, i concur.
"some times things can get worse*"

far be it from i to guess at the weight of truth,
when i know not what rests opposite,
to balance the scale of my being.


* what i wanted to say was this** - "sometimes you percieve your state as being worsened because you have not yet embraced this new state of being into the narrative of your life. but trust me, once you have grown to fill what you percieve as void, you will realise it is self, it was always self, and your love can grow to fill any rift between you as you are and you as you think you should be. love conquers horror.

** or at least something liberal and arty farty along these lines