Intimate.

This year for me is about ritual. I want plans, I want things I can work towards. I have started by dismantling already existing chaotic dalliances with ideas, and have begun focusing on them becoming tangible moments of self exploration; a time to file away items that can tend to float around in my brain, bubbling with possibility, yet never morphing into action. I wrote a song about Saigon, but I always get the lyrics wrong. A wonderful fall-back for me is my self imposed hopelessness; it's my wild card. Whenever shit goes down (things that we can all relate to) it's very easy to handball the issue to my pure lack of life skills. This year, I tackle problems head on. I will not try to find a way around it, nor will I ignore it's existence. Not this time. Not this year. My lover left me in Japan, with a dozen Yen, and a cat-scan. Outside of the obvious life achievements such as breathing, eating, and procreating, we are all out there trying to find a scrap of joy. There are many places to search (some fun ones). My intention, this year, is to find some self satisfied warmth within my skinny frame. A cliche, but didn't Shakespeare cover it all anyway? Trying to fill an empty cup, vying to thrill but you're all fed up. When did I start looking for wedding bands on fingers? When did I read about the blind being able to 'see' when it rains? Drops act as a map, giving things height, and texture: A damp cartographer. Why does that notion hold such import for me? I think because it's just a beautiful thing. It's okay that you don't care, you can hear this anywhere. I saw a child run across the road the other day. His (and I speculate here) drug addicted mother was lagging, willing to take a chance on her son blindly lurching across a quiet street. I warned the child that he should be more careful when crossing roads. I didn't use the phrase we all learnt at school because I couldn't remember if you were supposed to look left or right first. 'Look (some way) then look (the other way) then look (the way you first looked) again. The mother was defensive which is understandable. Do I have a child? I don't think so. She suggested in her own special vernacular that I should probably concentrate on things that are related to my own life, not hers. I agreed, and offered her a cigarette. My lover left me in Japan, I'm just doing what I can, it's not so bad. Be glad.