I want to tell you that I'm full of joy and possibility. I want to be full of these things. But I'm lost. I'm coasting. And I want to stop.

I feel that maybe all of this post-rational stuff is maybe something to hide behind. I'm steadily attempting to abandon, like a helpless family pet, the deeply suspicoios and syncial person that I have been. I mean, it's the easiest thing in the world to just condescend and insult and complain.

If you are going to knock it down, are you going to be able to competently build something in its place?

I want to get positive. I want to be honest. Because I'm amazed at how easy it is for all of us to lie. The way we find it so easy to argue our point about subjects that we know almost nothing about. And while we are all striving for more, I think that we are all missing out on what is really important.

Where is the joy in promotion? Where is the mystery on a monday morning? We all aspire. But I think that it's too easy to mock those of us who want to KNOW more, about themselves ,about what is going on around them, and what happens next.

I want to start.

'Barbelith Rollo'... it suddenly reminds me of Univeristy Challenge.

Did he eat the chocolate bar - or was he pushed?

what happens next?

with will and give, with things still unformed, and with the here and now... who knows what's possible? I'm 26 and I feel like I've only just started. Working out 'my thing'.

Sleeves taped, shoes secured, laces in the gutter, thoughts escape, feet kicking.


escape

Intermitent fatigue sets in, all warm and friendly... I'm working on an escape plan - I'm at this point where I could easily just walk away from the whole mess but... emotional content keeps me coming back for more.

I've been setting my alarm clock to go off in the middle of the night just so I know I've got a few hours before I have to wrench myself from my bed. Is this wrong?

I'm toying with the idea of a kind of post-rational Eastenders... all of the characters as just a little more sinister... and now everything's stopped working again so I have to go and shout some more.

How far is too far - before I can smile and stop and leave the building, numbsmug in the knowledge that I won't be back, not after lunch, nor after a cigarette. Exhausted and bruised. I will lose my keys and lose my way - I'll spill my drinks and forget why I came in the first place.

"The human mind cannot invent anything absolutely wrong. The normal mind, working freely and not tied to some presupposed truth, always arrives at some kind of truth. A complete lie can be invented only by an insane mind or a mind working in chains." The Forth Way, P.D. Ouspensky

Another intermitent evening. The shimmering promise of a bleeding nose. Deep Ron. Deep Ron. There are a number of embarrasing memories that continue to surface like reluctant turds, in my mind, to continually remind me that the only real mistakes I've made have been down to me and an almost total lack of confidence in me.

The animal innocence in those eyes - are question and understanding at once. This is the thing that I continue to see in every - thing: both sides of the story, elements of oposites. But only on week days when my mind should be on other things.

Another click even thing. Another thinly stretched 10. Another half spent waiting. Measure the journey in sneezes, in smoking, in skipping CDs of the kind of songs I only listen to out of sympathy with their forgotteness...

Replace me. Placate me. An Other True Bad Thinking. Another Scheme me up a buoy.

Later for you.





escape