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[25 Jun 2008|03:30pm] |
Good clean fun on last night's stag night. Apart from two chronically embarrassing moments for me. I shall endeavour to keep my escapades described in a minimal context. Wasn't too bad, the booze just got to me.
Dear oh dear. Everyone else got away utterly unscathed. Bastards. It was all quite silly in the end, with us kicking a football down the street. A ball I have now.
Know I told you that I was attracted to someone i'd never met? Yeah, I remember that too. It's still true. In fact, it's more true. I actually miss them, even though i've never met them in my life. I think I might have a crush. But what the hell for?
I don't know. I can't help being attracted to someone. Especially when they're well cool.
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[25 Jun 2008|10:57pm] |
I suppose you could say that what I am writing are vignettes. I'm anxious to keep loose and pliant with my writing, and to continue writing these little pieces until they take some shape, some direction. I like the fact they currently don't, because I have a lot of them.
I am going to carry on doing this for a while, it keeps me from thinking about drinking. Sorry about your friends lists.
So sweetly that arrow must find it's mark, a thousand years and a thousand tales could not assume their place in my heart so gently as you are currently now revered. Finally, and susbtantially, you grace a distant, deserted room in my soul, and you fill me with flowers, with just a few saplings grows a tree, a tree I now linger under with my knees bent and my arms around my head, bowed and hair loosely dangling about my brow, hoping you'll walk by and lift a soothing finger underneath my hairline and electrify me with touch.
Things like this, really. I'm writing about that person i've never met.
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[25 Jun 2008|11:20pm] |
I think i've run out of vignettes for today. I have to concede, it's time to face this heavy, oppressive dark humidity. Without the sedative effects of alcohol, I lie in a blanket, a cauldron of black swampy night. Beath is short and I feel tried down, submissive to the delights of the wicked angels of twilight, dancing and dragging broken teeth across my dreams.
Do not get me wrong, I love night, I just hate the heat, and it is only tempered by the domestic fan that spins away and blows a soothing wind across my bed. It's not quite enough, tonight. It's still too damned hot.
I like having a fancy, a flower in my head. It once again gives me a reason to have my heart beating, swollen and desirious in my chest, waiting to thump free and proclaim the earth and sky wonderful, while I chatter in tongues and babble ceaselessly to myself.
I have found a certain quiet beauty and a tempered amount of stimuli in dreams of someone, someone whose lack of emotional discourse belies her dancing lines and graceful scene. I wouldn't say I have a crush, per se, but I find myself fascinated by her, by her beautiful brain and the way her fingers root through soil and eartha and find such succelent shades, such vibrancy, colour, and depth.
Now that's attraction, I think. Beautiful minds are probably the sexiest thing ever. I'm sure nothing will manifest out of this, i'm just saying something I feel. I think what i've written is rather fitting. And respectful. At least, I hope so. I'll say no more about it, merely flirt with words and mist up windows with my feelings.
A dove flew over my head today, on the way to my work. It flew without erring right over my head. I've never seen a pure white dove in my life, but to me, they remain a significant symbol for me and my writing. They are quite beautiful creatures. This one was the first i've ever seen that is pure white. And there it flew, straight and graciously, over my head..I watched it and smiled, then walked on.
And that's it for now.
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