It is just that way

I love when you smile, I worry when you cry. Most days we carry on and just learn. We carry on. But on days like today, when you dont laugh, and dont cry, but look at me the way you do, those are the most precious. To see you become aware, to see you starting to grasp. Just to see you in all your babyness, become alive, and see me, those are the moments I will remember.

Random

I was walking through the park here at work this morning, and there were two ducks. They were putting on quite a show, wings flapping, honking at each other while doing a bit of a hop. And it struck me......

They will probably have a way less complicated, yet more fulfilling day, than I will.

Nights of passionate bronchitis

Ive just not really had much to say for a while. Ok thats bollocks I've had shit loads to say, but man trying to find the right words that carry the right sentiments.....tough. Tougher than checking if mouse batteries are flat with out literally screaming at someone.

So tonight is my night off. No thinking, no reasoning (when it comes to writing anyway) and no structure.......go on say it....'you bad boy you'......

Yes I have bronchitis, its making it hard to sleep, and since its still relatively early, and and since im not brave enough to try that whole sleep thing again, I thought well what the fuck, why not. Lets blurb all over the place. Sleeping has been a pain in my ass for going on a week now. I can sit here, and watch tv, and put wood on the fire and whatever, but for gods sake let me just try get horizontal. Water works. Lungs, nostrils (and eyes cause I end up up gagging on phlegm) so yes my head turns in to a water feature. Guess this is a better option than that right now.

I think my point here tonight, is to not think. To not write about all the things in my head. Not write about the things that keep me awake or put me to sleep or make me excited, or feel. This is about writing around all of that, maybe seeing something different. Even this has become a controlled exercise where it used to just come out naturally. I used to churn out a poem while watching tv and not think about it for a second. I used to write pages and let time flow and never even realize how long it had been, or how much I had written. It used to matter, but so subtly. It was there, but it was'nt a pressure.

Its the beginning of a one day public holiday. Can you imagine how much wine I have had so far? Not important. What is important, is to let this out, through the only way I actually know how. By writing. It doesnt matter what it is I write, or how I write it, or right now.......the meaning of it. Its about just letting go again. Theres a freedom here that you just dont get anywhere else. And where this used to be a very private space, hey its on the internet now, and there is no real privacy there, so what the hell.

Its a strange thing, to get used to a routine, to bend and change and make that routine work, only to one day burst out against that routine, to try and be yourself.