Journal 6.
Day 37.
How interesting is it to find the person you adore, the person who makes you a better person, the person who makes you change? Not very actually, usually it's just personal preference, and if they fit the build, then it is easy to justify them for the position.
My sun came out today, and how amazing she was. Her little locks, pretty green and white checkered dress, she had her basket with her, and the peaches on her lips just divine. She never looked so good, ripe like the peaches, cute little socks, and those eyes. Those green eyes always so astonishingly haunting.
Remember her smell in the wind, when it hit you. She had a lavender scent to her hair, mixed with peaches and a touch of vanilla for some reason. Remember that smell. It was better than the others. She lost that smell pretty quickly though didn't she. I took it from her didn't I. She smelled horrible when I left her with her basket. She looked ridiculous with her foot on that little blue chair. I knew she would, that's why I brought it. And that beautiful little thing broke my rock, and mean little girl, breaking someones favorite rock, and saying she didn't want to be my friend. Little kids can be so cruel. They just leave blood on your hands don't they, all six of them now, always leaving blood on your hands.
But that peach tasted sweet.
She had sunflower seeds and little rocks in her pockets and the meat of peaches in her hair. She was always eating sunflower seeds, except when she was eating those peaches. I remember propping one of her legs up on a small, blue wooden chair. I laid her down with her back in the grass and the lower part of her across the side of the dirt and rock road just half a mile from her house. That is how I would have wanted to find her, like a still photo from a crime scene. I guess, it was a crime scene. I took the sun away. I left her green and white checkered dress on, it's not right to take advantage of people, especially not children, it's just disgusting. I tied a pink ribbon in her hair. I always wanted to see her with a pink ribbon in her hair. It looked good in those curls. She liked to take her shoes off when she walked around collecting peaches, so I had to put them back on for her. She had such little feet. Her white socks with matching green and white checkered frill on the ankles were very soft to the touch, I could tell they were washed and then dried in the natural shine of the day, like only the sun can make things soft. Her basket looked comical to me. It was full of peaches, but spilt over on its side. Silly little girl, if the basket is on its side surely the peaches would roll right out of it. The only thing she had now that she didn't leave her house with was the blood around her head. And the smell of her changed as well.
The sun was hot that day, I remember, so I am glad I wore my hat. It was a wicker hat with a band around it. It was a blue and yellow band. I always wore that hat in the sun. And I had my light blue, cotton, collared shirt on, my favorite shirt. I didn't wear my favorite shirt with the other kids, but she was my sun, she deserved my favorite shirt. And I had my brown slacks on, with a white kerchief in the back pocket. I always had the sniffles this time of year. My moustache felt good waving in the wind. It tickled in the wind. It was the same moustache I wore from when I was in highschool, the kids then didn't know how cool it could be. But it is cool, like detectives wear. I remember my glasses steamed up a bit from the hot day and my sweating. I'm not sure where the sweating came from, I didn't sweat with the other kids, but she was my sun. The sun makes you warm I guess. And I had my rock from Spain, my favorite rock. I've never seen anyone eat peaches like she did, so tender and precise, only taking the best bite out of each and every one, and then tossing them to the flowers and the bees. Man how she made me laugh.
So that was six of them so far. My sun was by far my favorite. Little Sandra Clither, just like her mother. Only eleven more from my year one class, and then it's on to year two. Star Runner Prince of the Flarizer Galaxy strikes again. I bet people wish they weren't such mean kids way back when. Man, what a hobby, sure beats chess and collecting rocks.
28 February 2010
It was December.
It's time that I remind you why I am stuck on you.
At first a night. Quiet and full of soft words.
A second night filled with the same.
And a third night, closer still.
The days were nice, but for me got in the way.
And a fourth, we were hands holding.
We were bodies together and alone.
We were there for each other.
We were happily involved.
We were two hairs on a pillow, almost the same length,
and nearly the same colour,
mine was just a touch more curly.
We were knees kissing and hugging and dancing.
You were beautiful.
I was amazed.
And our fifth night. It was our last night.
It wasn't all ours, but when it was,
it was ours and ours alone.
Such a night to be the last.
And the morning as well.
The light was a curse, except I could see you better.
We hid in a cubby. Little hidden eyes for each other.
Your hand on the way to the airport behind the seat.
Your tears on my shoulder and in my neck.
I couldn't even kiss you, but hell I wanted to.
And since goodbye, somehow it still grows.
When you feel it you know.
I know.
At first a night. Quiet and full of soft words.
A second night filled with the same.
And a third night, closer still.
The days were nice, but for me got in the way.
And a fourth, we were hands holding.
We were bodies together and alone.
We were there for each other.
We were happily involved.
We were two hairs on a pillow, almost the same length,
and nearly the same colour,
mine was just a touch more curly.
We were knees kissing and hugging and dancing.
You were beautiful.
I was amazed.
And our fifth night. It was our last night.
It wasn't all ours, but when it was,
it was ours and ours alone.
Such a night to be the last.
And the morning as well.
The light was a curse, except I could see you better.
We hid in a cubby. Little hidden eyes for each other.
Your hand on the way to the airport behind the seat.
Your tears on my shoulder and in my neck.
I couldn't even kiss you, but hell I wanted to.
And since goodbye, somehow it still grows.
When you feel it you know.
I know.
27 February 2010
It's all I have.
Letter by letter I feel.
Letter by letter it's me.
Letter by letter I give myself
in all of my letters to thee.
Letter by letter I wait.
Letter by letter I read.
Letter by letter I find,
that letter by letter I feed.
Letter by letter I see.
Letter by letter they come.
Letter by letter I know,
that letter by letter I'm done.
Letter by letter I spell.
Letter by letter I write.
Letter by letter I empty myself,
by letter and letter tonight.
Letter by letter I grow.
Letter by letter I build.
Letter by letter I empty my head,
so letters from you take their fill.
Letter by letter I hope.
Letter by letter it's true.
Letter by letter my love,
all of these letters for you.
Letter by letter it's me.
Letter by letter I give myself
in all of my letters to thee.
Letter by letter I wait.
Letter by letter I read.
Letter by letter I find,
that letter by letter I feed.
Letter by letter I see.
Letter by letter they come.
Letter by letter I know,
that letter by letter I'm done.
Letter by letter I spell.
Letter by letter I write.
Letter by letter I empty myself,
by letter and letter tonight.
Letter by letter I grow.
Letter by letter I build.
Letter by letter I empty my head,
so letters from you take their fill.
Letter by letter I hope.
Letter by letter it's true.
Letter by letter my love,
all of these letters for you.
26 February 2010
Please not tonight.
It's not the feelings I wanted tonight.
I feel like I've lost you,
like you've left me alone.
And I feel like tonight
someone else will take you home.
And it's just what I see,
from the tremblings from me,
and I hope it's not true,
I would give you,
so much more than I can give.
And a restless night tonight,
I'm prepared for nothing less,
and a wild head racing,
images I can't erase are killing me.
But what can I do?
Is it me or is it you?
There is nothing to say
but I'm sorry.
I just don't know what for.
And stupid little words,
like winter, rain, and dark,
they just aren't enough
for the pain I see coming,
for the pain that's filling me,
slowly until i pour over,
and fill up the floor.
I feel like I've lost you,
like you've left me alone.
And I feel like tonight
someone else will take you home.
And it's just what I see,
from the tremblings from me,
and I hope it's not true,
I would give you,
so much more than I can give.
And a restless night tonight,
I'm prepared for nothing less,
and a wild head racing,
images I can't erase are killing me.
But what can I do?
Is it me or is it you?
There is nothing to say
but I'm sorry.
I just don't know what for.
And stupid little words,
like winter, rain, and dark,
they just aren't enough
for the pain I see coming,
for the pain that's filling me,
slowly until i pour over,
and fill up the floor.
25 February 2010
Her eye must be crooked a bit.
Long days are never far away,
short days are always leaving me to say,
it's just another day. Just another lonely day.
I've forgot your favorite colour,
and I'll forget it all the time,
but I'll ask you every time I think I should.
And I haven't got your letter,
the one with the picture you drew for me,
so I need to know, what did you have to say?
It's not when I think of you,
it is when I try not too,
that reminds me of what you mean to me.
It seems that in the evening and sometimes in the day time too,
the patience I have I will give it to you.
And I know I haven't felt this way before.
And I know that's a good thing for me.
Just a soft little hello.
That is all I need.
short days are always leaving me to say,
it's just another day. Just another lonely day.
I've forgot your favorite colour,
and I'll forget it all the time,
but I'll ask you every time I think I should.
And I haven't got your letter,
the one with the picture you drew for me,
so I need to know, what did you have to say?
It's not when I think of you,
it is when I try not too,
that reminds me of what you mean to me.
It seems that in the evening and sometimes in the day time too,
the patience I have I will give it to you.
And I know I haven't felt this way before.
And I know that's a good thing for me.
Just a soft little hello.
That is all I need.
A Story of Dave Ed. Journal 6. Day 29.
Journal 6.
Day 29.
I talked to someone at my work tonight. I couldn't call her a friend, because she is not a friend. She is someone I work with. Actually it was the first time she has ever spoken to me. We have seen one another before, but we never said hello, never ate lunch together, just hello good morning, good bye good evening. I was ok with that relationship. She must have been feeling sad today.
I was the last one in the office along with her. I put on my wicker hat, I grabbed my case, fixed my coat on, and was turning to leave when she asked me what I was doing for the night. I told her exactly my plans, and she changed the subject entirely. I do find people weird. She asked me if I had ever love someone more than they had loved me before. Bitch. I wanted to say I've wanted to love someone, or I at least thought about it, but I never knew anyone to love. I've never been close. I'm not sure if she was having a go at me, or if she just wanted me to listen. It was the closest contact I had to anyone my age in my entire life. It was uncomfortable. Remember you were uncomfortable. She wasn't the sun. You have seen the sun. You have dreamt of the sun. You watch the sun on the weekends.
But this lady, Demra, just wanted me to listen. So I gave it a go, to see what would happen. I even played along, saying the right yes's and no's when i thought I was suppose to. I tricked her really well that i was paying attention. She even thanked me afterwords and said she didn't know I was so kind. Of course I am kind, that's why I keep to myself and don't put my shit on anyone else. I couldn't stop thinking about how stupid her hair looked, and how she had too much lipstick on. That's what I don't like about her the most, the lipstick marks on her coffee mug. I just want to break that damn mug sometimes. She is not the sun. You have seen the sun. Stay close to the sun.
University was a breeze. I was beyond trying to fit in. And I didn't want to fit in with anyone besides myself. I received a double degree in Psychoanalysis in Pediatrics and Social Consumerism, neither of which make my life better. I just now see how children are better than adults, and rich people are the same as poor people, they are just usually bigger assholes with fatter wallets.
I finished my degrees in three years, instead of the usual four, I just didn't like the people so I wanted out of there as soon as I could. Most of the other students had there minds on alcohol, sex, and general debauchery of one's soul, useless people I think. No determination, no goals, no plans, no sun. I have my sun. I met her, saw her, a few weeks ago.
After University I decided to travel for a few months. I had always wanted to travel, and because I didn't have the responsibilities of others in my life it seemed quite appropriate for me. I started in Europe. In Portugal for a few weeks. And then through Spain into France and then Italy for a few more weeks. I then returned to one of the gem stones of my travels in Spain. In the region of El Cabezo in the mountains near San Esteban del Valle was some of the most beautiful mountain I had ever seen. And some of the most beautiful rock I had ever seen. When I was there I decided to pick up a new hobby, which was finding rocks I had never seen before. I found hundreds everyday. But there was one that i found on my third to last day that I couldn't put down. I didn't know much about rock forms and minerals, but from what I did know I knew it was a metamorphic rock. I figured it to be some kind of limestone or form of marble. It was reddish and pitted, a real good gripping rock. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever found and seen on this earth. That is, until I found my sun, years and years later.
That rock has been near my bed, keeping my memory of my adventures alive. Keeping my sense of amazement and respect certain. Keeping the penetrating moments of earths beauty in the front of my mind. And now my red rock can be replaced. I have found my sun. She is just perfect. She loves peaches.
Day 29.
I talked to someone at my work tonight. I couldn't call her a friend, because she is not a friend. She is someone I work with. Actually it was the first time she has ever spoken to me. We have seen one another before, but we never said hello, never ate lunch together, just hello good morning, good bye good evening. I was ok with that relationship. She must have been feeling sad today.
I was the last one in the office along with her. I put on my wicker hat, I grabbed my case, fixed my coat on, and was turning to leave when she asked me what I was doing for the night. I told her exactly my plans, and she changed the subject entirely. I do find people weird. She asked me if I had ever love someone more than they had loved me before. Bitch. I wanted to say I've wanted to love someone, or I at least thought about it, but I never knew anyone to love. I've never been close. I'm not sure if she was having a go at me, or if she just wanted me to listen. It was the closest contact I had to anyone my age in my entire life. It was uncomfortable. Remember you were uncomfortable. She wasn't the sun. You have seen the sun. You have dreamt of the sun. You watch the sun on the weekends.
But this lady, Demra, just wanted me to listen. So I gave it a go, to see what would happen. I even played along, saying the right yes's and no's when i thought I was suppose to. I tricked her really well that i was paying attention. She even thanked me afterwords and said she didn't know I was so kind. Of course I am kind, that's why I keep to myself and don't put my shit on anyone else. I couldn't stop thinking about how stupid her hair looked, and how she had too much lipstick on. That's what I don't like about her the most, the lipstick marks on her coffee mug. I just want to break that damn mug sometimes. She is not the sun. You have seen the sun. Stay close to the sun.
University was a breeze. I was beyond trying to fit in. And I didn't want to fit in with anyone besides myself. I received a double degree in Psychoanalysis in Pediatrics and Social Consumerism, neither of which make my life better. I just now see how children are better than adults, and rich people are the same as poor people, they are just usually bigger assholes with fatter wallets.
I finished my degrees in three years, instead of the usual four, I just didn't like the people so I wanted out of there as soon as I could. Most of the other students had there minds on alcohol, sex, and general debauchery of one's soul, useless people I think. No determination, no goals, no plans, no sun. I have my sun. I met her, saw her, a few weeks ago.
After University I decided to travel for a few months. I had always wanted to travel, and because I didn't have the responsibilities of others in my life it seemed quite appropriate for me. I started in Europe. In Portugal for a few weeks. And then through Spain into France and then Italy for a few more weeks. I then returned to one of the gem stones of my travels in Spain. In the region of El Cabezo in the mountains near San Esteban del Valle was some of the most beautiful mountain I had ever seen. And some of the most beautiful rock I had ever seen. When I was there I decided to pick up a new hobby, which was finding rocks I had never seen before. I found hundreds everyday. But there was one that i found on my third to last day that I couldn't put down. I didn't know much about rock forms and minerals, but from what I did know I knew it was a metamorphic rock. I figured it to be some kind of limestone or form of marble. It was reddish and pitted, a real good gripping rock. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever found and seen on this earth. That is, until I found my sun, years and years later.
That rock has been near my bed, keeping my memory of my adventures alive. Keeping my sense of amazement and respect certain. Keeping the penetrating moments of earths beauty in the front of my mind. And now my red rock can be replaced. I have found my sun. She is just perfect. She loves peaches.
22 February 2010
A Story of Dave Ed. Journal 6. Day 17.
Journal 6.
Day 17.
I am often tired when I watch people work. Not people like me, but people who actually move around when they work, like waiters, or postal workers. They are just so busy rushing around when they work, it can't be good on the bones. I don
t understand why anybody would want to have action in their work. We have developed into a being with society where we do not need to move around to make good money. And I make good money, and i don't move around at all. I like the idea that the people who move around and do the absolute least amount of work usually make the most money. the poor souls out there landscaping and bricklaying, building houses and standing on factory lines, the real active, hard workers, they are just the dregs. The low payed fools who think they can work there way out of the whole they are in. If I know one thing, is that the more you dig the deeper you get, you don't get out. Fools.
I've never wanted to be a fool. That Is why I am what I am, and I do what I do. Yeah that makes sense to me. I don't want to act foolish, therefore I am not a fool. Yeah I like that. Man I am smart.
There was this old lady trying to cross a crosswalk across a busy street today. She was in one of those mobile wheelchairs. I watched her at that crosswalk for about twelve minutes waiting to cross, while I sat at my cafe, drank my coffee, and ate my sweet cookie. Boy she must have thought I was some kind of athlete. How funny was it when I stood next to her for no longer than a few seconds, and then ran right across that street while she sat there immobile, in a mobile wheelchair. She must have had a shit when she heard me laughing. Crazy old bag.
I had a sunny day the other day. Actually my first sunny day in my whole life. The weekend brought some sun to me two weeks in a row now. I am beginning to like the weekends. But, there is no room for that type of thought for this journal.
So Star Runner died before high school, for the most part. But in high school he was totally gone. Which I liked. It was nice to have a fresh start. And I started well. I did well in all of my classes, and I was in the higher classes. I took on extra curricular activities like the chess club and band. I played one mean clarinet. I always thought it the classiest instrument. Those poor rock and roll fools with their guitars and drums just didn't understand the art that music can be. I made friends with all of my teachers because I would always ask questions and do extra work when I could. So I was doing well. Or so I thought.
It took me a few months to realize that it is not always good to be the smartest or the best in a scholastic setting, not at that age anyway. I mean the teachers appreciated my efforts and work, and they said I was going somewhere, but my peers were a whole separate beast. Somehow being smart and ambitious made me weak. It made me a geek and a nerd. And meant I had no friends again, not even other nerds liked me. They said I was too nerdy. Too weird. There was no winning. There never is.
It never made sense to me how the majority, even if dumb and wrong, could determine what is acceptable and not acceptable norms. I thought that is why people are said to be elite. But not in year nine, or ten, or eleven, or even twelve. I never could really grow out of my identified status as geek, and weirdo, and freak. Apparently it isn't cool to have facial hair in years nine through eleven, unless that is you grow out a dirty looking biker goatee, or big hairy chop sideburns that made you look like some burnt out Elvis impersonator. But if you kept a classy and sharp moustache, as I did, again you were an outcast, a laugh at, an unwanted hair on the back of average minded people. That was me, that unwanted, irritating, untouchable hair. I was untouchable. I was better than them all, and the fact that no one could see it just proves my point.
I wasn't being punched in the nose by girls anymore. And girls were girls and not just bigger kids. It was even worse when those bigger kids turned into girls. I thought getting punched in the nose was bad. No way. I have never met a meaner portion of the human race than teenage girls. And they had the gall to be want to be called women. Beasts was the first thing that came to mind if they didn't like being called girls. That, or fuming estrogen time bombs. You didn't even need to touch them for one of them to blow. I didn't even need to talk or look at some of them, and they still went about putting me down, calling me ugly and gross, telling me I would never have a girlfriend, that no girl would ever like someone like me, they just put you down, and kick you while your their. Now the younger ones were much better than that, the girls before they are girls, just little kids like all the rest. I would take those ones that just physically hurt you over these ones that will rip every bit of you apart because she has a bad hair day, or some sporty guy said she had an ugly dress on.
So, high school was a bit better and a bit worse from the first years of school life. But mostly I found, it wasn't school that wasn't right for me, it was people. people just never understood me. People don't understand me now. How could they, they don't know who I am, what I can do. I guess that is why people have friends, to relate to one another. There was just no one smart, classy, and creative enough to be my friend in high school. Day one was just as bad as the rest of the days. There were just no sunny days that time in my life.
Day 17.
I am often tired when I watch people work. Not people like me, but people who actually move around when they work, like waiters, or postal workers. They are just so busy rushing around when they work, it can't be good on the bones. I don
t understand why anybody would want to have action in their work. We have developed into a being with society where we do not need to move around to make good money. And I make good money, and i don't move around at all. I like the idea that the people who move around and do the absolute least amount of work usually make the most money. the poor souls out there landscaping and bricklaying, building houses and standing on factory lines, the real active, hard workers, they are just the dregs. The low payed fools who think they can work there way out of the whole they are in. If I know one thing, is that the more you dig the deeper you get, you don't get out. Fools.
I've never wanted to be a fool. That Is why I am what I am, and I do what I do. Yeah that makes sense to me. I don't want to act foolish, therefore I am not a fool. Yeah I like that. Man I am smart.
There was this old lady trying to cross a crosswalk across a busy street today. She was in one of those mobile wheelchairs. I watched her at that crosswalk for about twelve minutes waiting to cross, while I sat at my cafe, drank my coffee, and ate my sweet cookie. Boy she must have thought I was some kind of athlete. How funny was it when I stood next to her for no longer than a few seconds, and then ran right across that street while she sat there immobile, in a mobile wheelchair. She must have had a shit when she heard me laughing. Crazy old bag.
I had a sunny day the other day. Actually my first sunny day in my whole life. The weekend brought some sun to me two weeks in a row now. I am beginning to like the weekends. But, there is no room for that type of thought for this journal.
So Star Runner died before high school, for the most part. But in high school he was totally gone. Which I liked. It was nice to have a fresh start. And I started well. I did well in all of my classes, and I was in the higher classes. I took on extra curricular activities like the chess club and band. I played one mean clarinet. I always thought it the classiest instrument. Those poor rock and roll fools with their guitars and drums just didn't understand the art that music can be. I made friends with all of my teachers because I would always ask questions and do extra work when I could. So I was doing well. Or so I thought.
It took me a few months to realize that it is not always good to be the smartest or the best in a scholastic setting, not at that age anyway. I mean the teachers appreciated my efforts and work, and they said I was going somewhere, but my peers were a whole separate beast. Somehow being smart and ambitious made me weak. It made me a geek and a nerd. And meant I had no friends again, not even other nerds liked me. They said I was too nerdy. Too weird. There was no winning. There never is.
It never made sense to me how the majority, even if dumb and wrong, could determine what is acceptable and not acceptable norms. I thought that is why people are said to be elite. But not in year nine, or ten, or eleven, or even twelve. I never could really grow out of my identified status as geek, and weirdo, and freak. Apparently it isn't cool to have facial hair in years nine through eleven, unless that is you grow out a dirty looking biker goatee, or big hairy chop sideburns that made you look like some burnt out Elvis impersonator. But if you kept a classy and sharp moustache, as I did, again you were an outcast, a laugh at, an unwanted hair on the back of average minded people. That was me, that unwanted, irritating, untouchable hair. I was untouchable. I was better than them all, and the fact that no one could see it just proves my point.
I wasn't being punched in the nose by girls anymore. And girls were girls and not just bigger kids. It was even worse when those bigger kids turned into girls. I thought getting punched in the nose was bad. No way. I have never met a meaner portion of the human race than teenage girls. And they had the gall to be want to be called women. Beasts was the first thing that came to mind if they didn't like being called girls. That, or fuming estrogen time bombs. You didn't even need to touch them for one of them to blow. I didn't even need to talk or look at some of them, and they still went about putting me down, calling me ugly and gross, telling me I would never have a girlfriend, that no girl would ever like someone like me, they just put you down, and kick you while your their. Now the younger ones were much better than that, the girls before they are girls, just little kids like all the rest. I would take those ones that just physically hurt you over these ones that will rip every bit of you apart because she has a bad hair day, or some sporty guy said she had an ugly dress on.
So, high school was a bit better and a bit worse from the first years of school life. But mostly I found, it wasn't school that wasn't right for me, it was people. people just never understood me. People don't understand me now. How could they, they don't know who I am, what I can do. I guess that is why people have friends, to relate to one another. There was just no one smart, classy, and creative enough to be my friend in high school. Day one was just as bad as the rest of the days. There were just no sunny days that time in my life.
21 February 2010
Secondary Fermentation. You are my bitch.
Well. I actually maybe producing some wine here down under. It is probably the smallest wine production in existence. It may only have a production of 5 bottles. But, those are 5 bottles of wine that I made.
So yesterday was day two of the wine process. Not literally day two, it is actually realistically day eleven or twelve, but it is only the second day I have had to do anything besides listen for bubbling. The first thing I did was realize I may have used the wrong type of yeast, but since grapes have a natural yeast on them, I figure that stuff must have done enough right to counteract my possible wrong. I popped the lid off the air locked container and saw a mass of brown skins, stems, and mushed up grapes, but hell it smelled like wine. Not a good wine smell, sweet like a Riesling, but hell it had a wine odour, so I am damn pleased.
After straining the liquid from the solid mass into a few highly sterile pots, or pots that I just pulled from the cupboards and hoped were sterile, I did rub a shirt sleeve over the surface of them. The remaining liquid was full of sediments and looked like grape fruit juice. But it seems I am getting closer and closer. Some of the sediment settled and we could actually spot clear liquid on the top, which we think and hope is a very low alcoholic content form of wine.
Do notice how very talented Adam is. He holds the strainer with one hand, and maintains a firm grasp on his beer with the other. Well done Adam. I have learned it is very important to have a drink whilst one is making more drink.
I then vigorously cleaned out the air locked container with water and a sponge, and again a quick wipe with a sleeve, we love things sterile, I poured the liquid back in and sealed it up.
I'm quite sure it will take another five months or so before bottling, and I will not be here for the final bottling of it, that I will trust to Adam, Em, and of course Cat, but there is still some things that must be done in the meantime. Such as, every three or four weeks I must filter the liquid through strainers and proper filters to slowly remove all of the sediments so the liquid (wine we hope) becomes clearer and clearer. We are going for white wine mind you, not grape fruit coloured alcoholic sediment-filled liquids. So I will do that about three times before I depart.
But I will say it has been fun so far. Now all I have to figure out is if I should add some more yeast for this secondary fermentation period, which I should probably have done already, but no one is perfect. These skills come with time I reckon. SO I'll do a bit more research on the matter in the next day or two, and if needed, get my hands on some real wine yeast for this secondary fermentation period.
The wrong way to research. Do notice angry and confused faces.
Rethinking how it all works. Notice scientist coat. When being a scientist it is important to dress like a scientist.
The correct way to research. Notice researching finger (and horrible hair). I love research.
And if all goes well, it will one day be time for home made wine, or at least slightly alcoholic grape juice, who knows. That's the fun of it. The liquid may just as easily make us go blind as it may get us a bit loose. My last matter of business is to leave Cat some money so she can ship me one of the finished bottles, if she has the patience for it. I hope she does. I do at least want to try the bloody stuff.
So yesterday was day two of the wine process. Not literally day two, it is actually realistically day eleven or twelve, but it is only the second day I have had to do anything besides listen for bubbling. The first thing I did was realize I may have used the wrong type of yeast, but since grapes have a natural yeast on them, I figure that stuff must have done enough right to counteract my possible wrong. I popped the lid off the air locked container and saw a mass of brown skins, stems, and mushed up grapes, but hell it smelled like wine. Not a good wine smell, sweet like a Riesling, but hell it had a wine odour, so I am damn pleased.
After straining the liquid from the solid mass into a few highly sterile pots, or pots that I just pulled from the cupboards and hoped were sterile, I did rub a shirt sleeve over the surface of them. The remaining liquid was full of sediments and looked like grape fruit juice. But it seems I am getting closer and closer. Some of the sediment settled and we could actually spot clear liquid on the top, which we think and hope is a very low alcoholic content form of wine.
Do notice how very talented Adam is. He holds the strainer with one hand, and maintains a firm grasp on his beer with the other. Well done Adam. I have learned it is very important to have a drink whilst one is making more drink.
I then vigorously cleaned out the air locked container with water and a sponge, and again a quick wipe with a sleeve, we love things sterile, I poured the liquid back in and sealed it up.
I'm quite sure it will take another five months or so before bottling, and I will not be here for the final bottling of it, that I will trust to Adam, Em, and of course Cat, but there is still some things that must be done in the meantime. Such as, every three or four weeks I must filter the liquid through strainers and proper filters to slowly remove all of the sediments so the liquid (wine we hope) becomes clearer and clearer. We are going for white wine mind you, not grape fruit coloured alcoholic sediment-filled liquids. So I will do that about three times before I depart.
But I will say it has been fun so far. Now all I have to figure out is if I should add some more yeast for this secondary fermentation period, which I should probably have done already, but no one is perfect. These skills come with time I reckon. SO I'll do a bit more research on the matter in the next day or two, and if needed, get my hands on some real wine yeast for this secondary fermentation period.
The wrong way to research. Do notice angry and confused faces.
Rethinking how it all works. Notice scientist coat. When being a scientist it is important to dress like a scientist.
The correct way to research. Notice researching finger (and horrible hair). I love research.
And if all goes well, it will one day be time for home made wine, or at least slightly alcoholic grape juice, who knows. That's the fun of it. The liquid may just as easily make us go blind as it may get us a bit loose. My last matter of business is to leave Cat some money so she can ship me one of the finished bottles, if she has the patience for it. I hope she does. I do at least want to try the bloody stuff.
20 February 2010
Always still trying
So we dim the lights and live another life style.
Such a child running freely, with no belts with no gloves, no one is dreaming.
And once. Once was all that mattered. Girl.
There is something in you that's not the same old thing.
Haunted. By all those I am linked to. And running
as far as I can run, from here, before I go insane.
Have. Have yourself a good day, forget all the endings
that haven't seem to come.
Hold. Hold onto your stalkings, they may be the only
thing that keeps you looking nice.
How. How do we tell ourselves this is just a simple life,
holding, talking, feeling, like nothing else can work,
and how, will we not want this something, to take
control of what we do.
And I know I'm lost, and I know I'm gone,
And I know there is no fire outside. No fire outside.
No fire outside. And the kids they will be ok. Ok. Ok.
And I will finally find my fame, my fame, will be,
where I never thought it would be. Would be. Not the only
fruit that grows from this tree. This tree. This tree. This tree.
This tree. This tree, that fruits, that fruits, from within
the chest of me.
And I've seen this place before. And I wish I'd never came here,
all by myself the first dreadful time around.
And where have you gone hiding? You've escaped this daylights lighting,
maybe you're just good at your favorite child hood game.
Your favorite trick again, the one when you go missing, I wish that you would
find another trick tonight. Another trick tonight.
And you, you are the queen of blue, you are the queen
of everything that seems to be the best parts of life I see.
And it tears my heart out, and it feels so fine.
This, this happy day, this lonely day so far from you,
I break myself off another chunk of time until there is
no longer need to be waiting for it.
When we shift just closer.
And you look so nice.
You look so nice.
So nice.
As. As I look around
I see all the smiling faces of the people that come to find you.
And I. And I am only one, who knows who you are,
and I'm the only one that can
point you out. That can point you out.
I'm the only one.
Don't say don't say don't say your gone.
And I will come along.
Goodbye, hello, goodbye, hello, I'll see you soon.
Just before you see me too.
Such a child running freely, with no belts with no gloves, no one is dreaming.
And once. Once was all that mattered. Girl.
There is something in you that's not the same old thing.
Haunted. By all those I am linked to. And running
as far as I can run, from here, before I go insane.
Have. Have yourself a good day, forget all the endings
that haven't seem to come.
Hold. Hold onto your stalkings, they may be the only
thing that keeps you looking nice.
How. How do we tell ourselves this is just a simple life,
holding, talking, feeling, like nothing else can work,
and how, will we not want this something, to take
control of what we do.
And I know I'm lost, and I know I'm gone,
And I know there is no fire outside. No fire outside.
No fire outside. And the kids they will be ok. Ok. Ok.
And I will finally find my fame, my fame, will be,
where I never thought it would be. Would be. Not the only
fruit that grows from this tree. This tree. This tree. This tree.
This tree. This tree, that fruits, that fruits, from within
the chest of me.
And I've seen this place before. And I wish I'd never came here,
all by myself the first dreadful time around.
And where have you gone hiding? You've escaped this daylights lighting,
maybe you're just good at your favorite child hood game.
Your favorite trick again, the one when you go missing, I wish that you would
find another trick tonight. Another trick tonight.
And you, you are the queen of blue, you are the queen
of everything that seems to be the best parts of life I see.
And it tears my heart out, and it feels so fine.
This, this happy day, this lonely day so far from you,
I break myself off another chunk of time until there is
no longer need to be waiting for it.
When we shift just closer.
And you look so nice.
You look so nice.
So nice.
As. As I look around
I see all the smiling faces of the people that come to find you.
And I. And I am only one, who knows who you are,
and I'm the only one that can
point you out. That can point you out.
I'm the only one.
Don't say don't say don't say your gone.
And I will come along.
Goodbye, hello, goodbye, hello, I'll see you soon.
Just before you see me too.
18 February 2010
A story of Dave Ed. Journal 6. Day 1.
Journal 6.
Day 1.
There is not really much in everyday life to hang your hat on, that trustworthy object that still does it's job at the end of a hard fought day. And it obliges, and gives thanks for your acknowledgement, always willing to be what it was built to be. The long days still exist, and it's been years since they first started. Days have always been long, this we know, but they haven't always been long for the wrong reasons. Prestige. Bah. Recognition. No thanks. Progressing. For the birds. So why then? For the means of provision. To provide metal and paper metaphors that get us what we want, which sadly, tends to be getting as far away from what we do most of our lives, have long days we do not want to have.
And there is your hat and coat rack. Simple. It's there when you leave. It's there when you return home. And you would think it is there when you are gone, but you can never be sure. A reliable friend. Reliable friends, they would sure be nice to come by, in a living form that is. I mean, here I am, an aging thirty-four year old who sits at a desk all day, and on a couch all night. I don't even know what intrigues me anymore because I don't have a reliable friend to discuss it with. It's funny how talking, just talking can lead to self discovery. It's all in your head somewhere I suppose, but sometimes it takes someone else listening to put your finger on it. I don't have that someone, that friend. So. I am here, writing in a journal. Writing to myself. Trying to be my own friend. My own source of identification and discovery. It doesn't work. It doesn't work.
I still remember my first day of school in year one. I always thought it would be my favorite day of all my life. Well, I did up until the day itself. And really only for a few months, not my whole life, I was only six and was too busy riding bikes and kicking balls, and figuring out if I was suppose to be mean or friendly to other kids my age. I am an only child by the way. Always have been, which makes sense because if at some point I wasn't an only child I would have said I lost a brother or a sister, or maybe even I gained a brother or a sister when I was older. BUt it was just me. Me and my father. My mother wasn't around. Actually, I never met her. Not once. My dad said she moved away with her new husband when I was three. And my memory was never too sharp so I could never put a face or a memory to the word. Mom. Not much of a word to me. Doesn't have that feeling to it some words have. Words like ice cream, or broken bone, or kiss. Those words have a feeling when you say them. Not mom though. Never felt that word.
The name is Dave by the way. Not David, Dave. My real name isn't David. It's Dave. Dave Ed Gaits. I know. Not a great name. The Ed isn't even short for Edward. It is just Ed. My dad thought it would be great if my first two names could be said like one word. I hate it. I like my dad. But I don't really like his reasoning sometime. And, he has a very poor taste in humour. he likes cheap jokes on crisp and soda adds, and stuff like that. And jokes you see old people say in vintage black and white movies. The kind of jokes only boring grand parents think are funny because they actually relate personally to them. The world was much smaller then.
But I wasn't Dave on the first day of school. Nope. I was Star Runner Prince of the Flarizer Galaxy. I really liked science and space ships when I was younger. I'll tell you what. It would have been good to have friends before I went to school for the first time. I would have known that being six, and introducing yourself as Star Runner Prince of the Flarizer Galaxy would not be a socially acceptable practice. It took me six years before people stopped teasing me and calling me Star Runner. All because I didn't have a reliable friend to call me an idiot before all the strangers out there decided I actually was one. The worst part about the revealing of my name to who I thought would have instantly been twenty of my new best mates was just that. It wasn't to like one or two of them. Oh no. It was during attendance calling when I thought I would do it. The teacher, before calling anyones name, told us that when she called our name we should raise our hand, and then if we wanted to be called by a nickname that was the time to let her know what we wanted to be called. So there I was, with my tiny little puny arm in the air because I didn't know I could take it down until I told her my entire name, when I said it. A total fool.
So that, and the fact I was pretty stupid for a six year old didn't make my first day of school a good one. I wasn't premium with spelling. I was horrible at maths, and an absolute failure at being normal. I was asked to sit in the corner at a desk by myself twice on my first day. Actually, I am proud to say I set the record for sitting in the corner my first year in school. I know this because I saw my year one teaher, Mrs. Emralds at a restaurant the other night. Mind you this is twenty eight years later, and the old woman still recognized me. I was sitting by myself eating dinner like I do, and she thought it was just the perfect punchline to the joke that was my childhood. I never liked her much.
But just imagine that. Sent to sit alone in a corner at a desk, on my first day of school ever. You think some teachers would have some decency to give us new school goers a days pardon from punishment, but not Mrs. Emralds, not on that day. It turns out I was indeed the only year one student to ever be sent to sit at the corner desk on the first day of school. Come to think about it, the desk wasn't even in the corner yet until Mrs. Emeralds dragged it over there and made me sit at it. And not only did she make me sit in the corner, but she had to kick me when I was down. I remember the words exactly, to this day.
Mrs. Emerald. "Ok Star Runner. It's time you become Prince of the Corner Desk Galaxy."
She was a mean woman.
And to top the whole mess of a day off. When I was sitting on the bus by myself on the way back to my home, just one stop before it was my stop, I got punched in the nose and cried. You believe that. There was this little six year old girl, Sandra Clither, who was bigger than me because I was only six as well and girls are usually bigger than boys at that age, and she punched me in the nose. A girl. She was kind of weird too. So there was this few minutes on the bus where all the other kids were trying to figure out which one of us was weirder, and they said it might be Sandra, and if she punched me, then I would definitely be weirder, not her. I knew it was coming. Everyone thought she would punch me in the arm or something. But no. Square in the nose. And it hurt. And I cried, which wasn't good because it was then known to everyone that not only was I 'Star Runner Prince of the Stupid Galaxy', but I was also beat up by a girl. That whole bit didn't make sense to me then. It does now. But then, we were six, she was bigger than me. There are no boys and girls when you are six. You are all just kids. She was a bigger, and apparently, less weird, kid.
I'll tell you. Day one was bad. But so were days two right up until today. And tomorrow is not looking promising either.
Day 1.
There is not really much in everyday life to hang your hat on, that trustworthy object that still does it's job at the end of a hard fought day. And it obliges, and gives thanks for your acknowledgement, always willing to be what it was built to be. The long days still exist, and it's been years since they first started. Days have always been long, this we know, but they haven't always been long for the wrong reasons. Prestige. Bah. Recognition. No thanks. Progressing. For the birds. So why then? For the means of provision. To provide metal and paper metaphors that get us what we want, which sadly, tends to be getting as far away from what we do most of our lives, have long days we do not want to have.
And there is your hat and coat rack. Simple. It's there when you leave. It's there when you return home. And you would think it is there when you are gone, but you can never be sure. A reliable friend. Reliable friends, they would sure be nice to come by, in a living form that is. I mean, here I am, an aging thirty-four year old who sits at a desk all day, and on a couch all night. I don't even know what intrigues me anymore because I don't have a reliable friend to discuss it with. It's funny how talking, just talking can lead to self discovery. It's all in your head somewhere I suppose, but sometimes it takes someone else listening to put your finger on it. I don't have that someone, that friend. So. I am here, writing in a journal. Writing to myself. Trying to be my own friend. My own source of identification and discovery. It doesn't work. It doesn't work.
I still remember my first day of school in year one. I always thought it would be my favorite day of all my life. Well, I did up until the day itself. And really only for a few months, not my whole life, I was only six and was too busy riding bikes and kicking balls, and figuring out if I was suppose to be mean or friendly to other kids my age. I am an only child by the way. Always have been, which makes sense because if at some point I wasn't an only child I would have said I lost a brother or a sister, or maybe even I gained a brother or a sister when I was older. BUt it was just me. Me and my father. My mother wasn't around. Actually, I never met her. Not once. My dad said she moved away with her new husband when I was three. And my memory was never too sharp so I could never put a face or a memory to the word. Mom. Not much of a word to me. Doesn't have that feeling to it some words have. Words like ice cream, or broken bone, or kiss. Those words have a feeling when you say them. Not mom though. Never felt that word.
The name is Dave by the way. Not David, Dave. My real name isn't David. It's Dave. Dave Ed Gaits. I know. Not a great name. The Ed isn't even short for Edward. It is just Ed. My dad thought it would be great if my first two names could be said like one word. I hate it. I like my dad. But I don't really like his reasoning sometime. And, he has a very poor taste in humour. he likes cheap jokes on crisp and soda adds, and stuff like that. And jokes you see old people say in vintage black and white movies. The kind of jokes only boring grand parents think are funny because they actually relate personally to them. The world was much smaller then.
But I wasn't Dave on the first day of school. Nope. I was Star Runner Prince of the Flarizer Galaxy. I really liked science and space ships when I was younger. I'll tell you what. It would have been good to have friends before I went to school for the first time. I would have known that being six, and introducing yourself as Star Runner Prince of the Flarizer Galaxy would not be a socially acceptable practice. It took me six years before people stopped teasing me and calling me Star Runner. All because I didn't have a reliable friend to call me an idiot before all the strangers out there decided I actually was one. The worst part about the revealing of my name to who I thought would have instantly been twenty of my new best mates was just that. It wasn't to like one or two of them. Oh no. It was during attendance calling when I thought I would do it. The teacher, before calling anyones name, told us that when she called our name we should raise our hand, and then if we wanted to be called by a nickname that was the time to let her know what we wanted to be called. So there I was, with my tiny little puny arm in the air because I didn't know I could take it down until I told her my entire name, when I said it. A total fool.
So that, and the fact I was pretty stupid for a six year old didn't make my first day of school a good one. I wasn't premium with spelling. I was horrible at maths, and an absolute failure at being normal. I was asked to sit in the corner at a desk by myself twice on my first day. Actually, I am proud to say I set the record for sitting in the corner my first year in school. I know this because I saw my year one teaher, Mrs. Emralds at a restaurant the other night. Mind you this is twenty eight years later, and the old woman still recognized me. I was sitting by myself eating dinner like I do, and she thought it was just the perfect punchline to the joke that was my childhood. I never liked her much.
But just imagine that. Sent to sit alone in a corner at a desk, on my first day of school ever. You think some teachers would have some decency to give us new school goers a days pardon from punishment, but not Mrs. Emralds, not on that day. It turns out I was indeed the only year one student to ever be sent to sit at the corner desk on the first day of school. Come to think about it, the desk wasn't even in the corner yet until Mrs. Emeralds dragged it over there and made me sit at it. And not only did she make me sit in the corner, but she had to kick me when I was down. I remember the words exactly, to this day.
Mrs. Emerald. "Ok Star Runner. It's time you become Prince of the Corner Desk Galaxy."
She was a mean woman.
And to top the whole mess of a day off. When I was sitting on the bus by myself on the way back to my home, just one stop before it was my stop, I got punched in the nose and cried. You believe that. There was this little six year old girl, Sandra Clither, who was bigger than me because I was only six as well and girls are usually bigger than boys at that age, and she punched me in the nose. A girl. She was kind of weird too. So there was this few minutes on the bus where all the other kids were trying to figure out which one of us was weirder, and they said it might be Sandra, and if she punched me, then I would definitely be weirder, not her. I knew it was coming. Everyone thought she would punch me in the arm or something. But no. Square in the nose. And it hurt. And I cried, which wasn't good because it was then known to everyone that not only was I 'Star Runner Prince of the Stupid Galaxy', but I was also beat up by a girl. That whole bit didn't make sense to me then. It does now. But then, we were six, she was bigger than me. There are no boys and girls when you are six. You are all just kids. She was a bigger, and apparently, less weird, kid.
I'll tell you. Day one was bad. But so were days two right up until today. And tomorrow is not looking promising either.
13 February 2010
Just a little bump on the head.
She had sunflower seeds and little rocks in her pockets and the meat of peaches in her hair when she was found. One of her legs was propped up on a small, blue wooden chair. She was lying with her back in the grass and the lower part of her across the side of the dirt and rock rode just half a mile from her house. She still had her green and white checkered dress on. She still had a pink ribbon in her hair. She still had her little black shoes on with little white socks with matching green and white checkered frill on the ankles of them. She still had the basket she had left home with. It was full of peaches and on the ground beside her. The only thing she had now that she didn't leave her house with was the blood around her head.
He left his house with his hat on. It was a wicker hat with a band around it. It was a blue and yellow band. He left wearing a very light blue, cotton, collared shirt and brown slacks, with a white kerchief in his back pocket. He had a fancy little moustache, like detectives chose to wear. He left wearing his black glasses. he always left with his glasses. He left his house with his favorite rock. It was the rock he had found eight years earlier when he was in Spain. It was his most favorite rock. It was a dusty red, sharp and pitted, not smooth. It had a good grip to it. He had been watching her for months. She liked to pick peaches on the weekend. He saw her picking peaches. He watched her pick one, eat a bite out of it, and then toss it to the flowers and the bees. He watched her do this to about four different peaches. He arrived home with everything he left with, except his favorite rock. It broke on the back of her head. So he picked up a peach, and he brought it home in its stead.
It was a terrible dream to have. It was interesting to dream of such a horrible situation, but the colors of it were beautiful, and the way it played out, like an old movie with too much sunlight and scratchy audio. It made you want to stay and watch. It made you want to watch it again. The way she picked the peaches with her cute little hand. The meat of the fruit in the corner of her mouth. It's juice running down to her beautiful, little chin. How sensual and happy he was watching her walk through the peach trees. How carefully he chose his shirt, and how he treated his rock with such love. It was a sad dream yes. But it was nice to have. It was nice to see how beautiful it all came together, with the picture of her leg propped up on a little, blue wooden chair, just off on the side of a dirt road, in such a pretty dress, with a lovely pink ribbon in her hair. And how green her eyes were. Such green eyes.
He left his house with his hat on. It was a wicker hat with a band around it. It was a blue and yellow band. He left wearing a very light blue, cotton, collared shirt and brown slacks, with a white kerchief in his back pocket. He had a fancy little moustache, like detectives chose to wear. He left wearing his black glasses. he always left with his glasses. He left his house with his favorite rock. It was the rock he had found eight years earlier when he was in Spain. It was his most favorite rock. It was a dusty red, sharp and pitted, not smooth. It had a good grip to it. He had been watching her for months. She liked to pick peaches on the weekend. He saw her picking peaches. He watched her pick one, eat a bite out of it, and then toss it to the flowers and the bees. He watched her do this to about four different peaches. He arrived home with everything he left with, except his favorite rock. It broke on the back of her head. So he picked up a peach, and he brought it home in its stead.
It was a terrible dream to have. It was interesting to dream of such a horrible situation, but the colors of it were beautiful, and the way it played out, like an old movie with too much sunlight and scratchy audio. It made you want to stay and watch. It made you want to watch it again. The way she picked the peaches with her cute little hand. The meat of the fruit in the corner of her mouth. It's juice running down to her beautiful, little chin. How sensual and happy he was watching her walk through the peach trees. How carefully he chose his shirt, and how he treated his rock with such love. It was a sad dream yes. But it was nice to have. It was nice to see how beautiful it all came together, with the picture of her leg propped up on a little, blue wooden chair, just off on the side of a dirt road, in such a pretty dress, with a lovely pink ribbon in her hair. And how green her eyes were. Such green eyes.
People ususally only tell you they love you after they show you they don't. Not you.
And fallen to the half depleted mission we have been on.
Slowly turning shades of dusted circles on the wooden floor.
Needles wear each other down as they play all the sad thoughts
of people that had to tell their stories.
Sorrows come out in the daytime after nights of a lesser dream,
and fairytales aren't always filled with happy endings.
Still happy endings can come from all the sad times we've had.
I am not now, nor have I ever been
the hollowed hole I am pretending to be.
In the worst of it now and it only gets better from here.
The power people dragging down all the little ones.
Is it alright to not see all the problems that are our lives?
Just shake our head and throw a smile.
Slowly turning shades of dusted circles on the wooden floor.
Needles wear each other down as they play all the sad thoughts
of people that had to tell their stories.
Sorrows come out in the daytime after nights of a lesser dream,
and fairytales aren't always filled with happy endings.
Still happy endings can come from all the sad times we've had.
I am not now, nor have I ever been
the hollowed hole I am pretending to be.
In the worst of it now and it only gets better from here.
The power people dragging down all the little ones.
Is it alright to not see all the problems that are our lives?
Just shake our head and throw a smile.
10 February 2010
Necklace
One week just won't be enough, no I need much more of you.
And you know what I have in mind, just more of your time.
With no response I knew the truth,
you want as much of me as i want of you.
It's a long night and even longer day,
and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait.
Around your neck is a chain with two kissing children
and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait.
As the lights fade and the curtain calls,
lost under sheets we'll be enthralled.
A sideways walk and never too late to talk,
and wait and wait and wait and wait.
We fly in circles, round and round,
and if we stick around until the light catches us both.
You're sitting calm and I'm all running like children,
you let me know when it's time to calm down.
And wait and wait.
Don't we have such a powerful secret.
I know when it will all come in to play.
You'll know when everything is ready to say.
Say hey you're not what I thought you were,
much more than I could have predicted.
And wait and wait and wait some more.
We've made plans to break out together.
You have your way of talking so low.
I have my way of never leaving anything unsaid.
But I've got the most unbelievable view, of you just being around.
You wait and wait and wait and wait.
I wait and wait and wait and wait.
But I have never waited for someone like you before.
Like the first time again and again.
And quiet claps come from those who don't know.
What you got in your pocket?
Is it a reason to stay,
or just a worn out receipt you can't throw away?
In between the sticks and stones now
are all the words I have for you.
And all of them can only heal love,
that love was meant to be your name girl,
the girl was meant to be the same.
And wait and wait and wait and wait
until your words are truth to me.
I know I've asked for a lot,
but when it comes down to just what I want.
I want a Sunday with you.
For that I can
wait and wait and wait and wait.
And so long. After however long. After these days so long.
I will come. I will come along.
And you know what I have in mind, just more of your time.
With no response I knew the truth,
you want as much of me as i want of you.
It's a long night and even longer day,
and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait.
Around your neck is a chain with two kissing children
and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait.
As the lights fade and the curtain calls,
lost under sheets we'll be enthralled.
A sideways walk and never too late to talk,
and wait and wait and wait and wait.
We fly in circles, round and round,
and if we stick around until the light catches us both.
You're sitting calm and I'm all running like children,
you let me know when it's time to calm down.
And wait and wait.
Don't we have such a powerful secret.
I know when it will all come in to play.
You'll know when everything is ready to say.
Say hey you're not what I thought you were,
much more than I could have predicted.
And wait and wait and wait some more.
We've made plans to break out together.
You have your way of talking so low.
I have my way of never leaving anything unsaid.
But I've got the most unbelievable view, of you just being around.
You wait and wait and wait and wait.
I wait and wait and wait and wait.
But I have never waited for someone like you before.
Like the first time again and again.
And quiet claps come from those who don't know.
What you got in your pocket?
Is it a reason to stay,
or just a worn out receipt you can't throw away?
In between the sticks and stones now
are all the words I have for you.
And all of them can only heal love,
that love was meant to be your name girl,
the girl was meant to be the same.
And wait and wait and wait and wait
until your words are truth to me.
I know I've asked for a lot,
but when it comes down to just what I want.
I want a Sunday with you.
For that I can
wait and wait and wait and wait.
And so long. After however long. After these days so long.
I will come. I will come along.
End of the road.
He moved across the world,
started his new life.
Keeps in touch every now and then,
and it's just not him, just not him.
You know you are losing touch,
when you've lost touch.
You know they are moving on,
when they move on.
And you know you are giving up,
when they give up.
No matter what you do
you can never grow young again.
There's no living forever.
Everything it comes to an end.
Try to hold on.
I try to hold on.
But I don't try to hard.
And every day is a day further away.
I know you said that,
someday is not too far away.
That's when I knew there is no chance holding on.
Giving up is a choice we make.
It is a way we choose to go.
There is no living forever.
Everything it comes to an end.
started his new life.
Keeps in touch every now and then,
and it's just not him, just not him.
You know you are losing touch,
when you've lost touch.
You know they are moving on,
when they move on.
And you know you are giving up,
when they give up.
No matter what you do
you can never grow young again.
There's no living forever.
Everything it comes to an end.
Try to hold on.
I try to hold on.
But I don't try to hard.
And every day is a day further away.
I know you said that,
someday is not too far away.
That's when I knew there is no chance holding on.
Giving up is a choice we make.
It is a way we choose to go.
There is no living forever.
Everything it comes to an end.
09 February 2010
Boat alone.
Spinning in the ripples,
flat now pulpy in the wind,
a black water under
an early night sky.
And the mast is defiant,
a foe of physics and patterns.
And the boat unrocked,
but quiet like a mountain.
And you were naked in the water,
that is why the ripples saw the stars.
And I was there as well,
touching feet in the dark,
the flavour of your touch,
a beautiful night.
flat now pulpy in the wind,
a black water under
an early night sky.
And the mast is defiant,
a foe of physics and patterns.
And the boat unrocked,
but quiet like a mountain.
And you were naked in the water,
that is why the ripples saw the stars.
And I was there as well,
touching feet in the dark,
the flavour of your touch,
a beautiful night.
08 February 2010
No wine until it's time. It's time.
I am like those sweet skinned European women in the movies. the ones in there long summer dresses that they pull up with both hands so that the frills on the bottom hang just along their shins. The harvest has been done, and now they are the human press, the one's who tease the juice out from within. I was one of those people this afternoon.
The day started, as most days of the past few weeks have, late and hot. The air like a water bomb filled with hot water, rubbery and all encompassing, ready to burst. I awoke, put someone very special to sleep from thousands of miles away, and started a day. Eggs, scrambled, and fresh picked tomatoes from the garden, just lovely. A large gulp of water, followed by many more gulps. Then I had a brief chat with my brother about how much better I am at scrabble than he is, and he told me I should go outside and do something today.
I picked up some weights, heavy, heavy weights. Put on a pick me up play list, and proceeded to jump around, pretend to box, push ups, crunch ups, jump ups, pretty much any kind of ups there are. As I did this I reckon I lost 5 kilos of sweat and was near a disastrous chundering episode when I fell to the ground and gave in to the sun and heat. So after my eighteen minute exercise, I needed a shower. A very cold, cold shower which was perfect for my brain, I was a boil. Then, i had a quick piece of toast with butter and peanut butter. Well the toast itself wasn't quick, but my eating of it was. Then I did the only thing I could do. I took a nap and listened to music, it was lovely.
When Adam returned home from work, Adam is one of the fine people who is letting me live in his lounge room, we decided to be a bit productive. And back to the European sweet skinned ladies in their long dresses, like in the movies. We retreated to the back garden, I washed out an eski, and began to prune and collect grapes from the massive grape vine. I collected an entire eski (cooler) full in no time at all. Back inside to wash my feet. And then stomp, stomp, stomp. Grapes between my toes, under my feet, swallowing my shins. I've never felt such an interesting texture in my toes. It was quite wonderful. Adam just stood next to me and monitored my progress. He is a very good manager of sorts. And minutes later, I squished every last one of them into pulp and juice.
I then emptied the contents into the beer brewing container, which will now be labeled our wine fermenter. Added just a touch of yeast because grapes have a natural yeast on their skins anyway, and closed the lid. In two or so weeks I should have the first step in fermenting complete and then I can transfer it to a completely air tight container to ferment for another 6 months. 6 months!! I will be back in the states by then, so hopefully Adam, Em, and Cat can ship me a bottle of our homemade wine. We should have enough for like four or five bottles. Though, none of us are sure the grapes are even the right sort for wine, so we may just as easily make methanol and go blind. I hope it works though. I've never made wine before.
The day started, as most days of the past few weeks have, late and hot. The air like a water bomb filled with hot water, rubbery and all encompassing, ready to burst. I awoke, put someone very special to sleep from thousands of miles away, and started a day. Eggs, scrambled, and fresh picked tomatoes from the garden, just lovely. A large gulp of water, followed by many more gulps. Then I had a brief chat with my brother about how much better I am at scrabble than he is, and he told me I should go outside and do something today.
I picked up some weights, heavy, heavy weights. Put on a pick me up play list, and proceeded to jump around, pretend to box, push ups, crunch ups, jump ups, pretty much any kind of ups there are. As I did this I reckon I lost 5 kilos of sweat and was near a disastrous chundering episode when I fell to the ground and gave in to the sun and heat. So after my eighteen minute exercise, I needed a shower. A very cold, cold shower which was perfect for my brain, I was a boil. Then, i had a quick piece of toast with butter and peanut butter. Well the toast itself wasn't quick, but my eating of it was. Then I did the only thing I could do. I took a nap and listened to music, it was lovely.
When Adam returned home from work, Adam is one of the fine people who is letting me live in his lounge room, we decided to be a bit productive. And back to the European sweet skinned ladies in their long dresses, like in the movies. We retreated to the back garden, I washed out an eski, and began to prune and collect grapes from the massive grape vine. I collected an entire eski (cooler) full in no time at all. Back inside to wash my feet. And then stomp, stomp, stomp. Grapes between my toes, under my feet, swallowing my shins. I've never felt such an interesting texture in my toes. It was quite wonderful. Adam just stood next to me and monitored my progress. He is a very good manager of sorts. And minutes later, I squished every last one of them into pulp and juice.
I then emptied the contents into the beer brewing container, which will now be labeled our wine fermenter. Added just a touch of yeast because grapes have a natural yeast on their skins anyway, and closed the lid. In two or so weeks I should have the first step in fermenting complete and then I can transfer it to a completely air tight container to ferment for another 6 months. 6 months!! I will be back in the states by then, so hopefully Adam, Em, and Cat can ship me a bottle of our homemade wine. We should have enough for like four or five bottles. Though, none of us are sure the grapes are even the right sort for wine, so we may just as easily make methanol and go blind. I hope it works though. I've never made wine before.
Growing up.
When one finds peace one must give something up.
Not a sacrifice or a compromise,
but just a giving up.
To let the world see one is ready.
To let people see one can be,
just what one desires.
If that is peace then all will see.
That chaos is no longer a mantle of life for one,
it holds nothing of value from that day on.
No pictures to stare at, no trophies to boast.
No reason for memories of such a ghostly ambition
to entertain at other's expense.
It is a growing up.
It is a wanting to be better.
One is great.
And one is small.
It is time to be
with who you
want to be
with.
Not a sacrifice or a compromise,
but just a giving up.
To let the world see one is ready.
To let people see one can be,
just what one desires.
If that is peace then all will see.
That chaos is no longer a mantle of life for one,
it holds nothing of value from that day on.
No pictures to stare at, no trophies to boast.
No reason for memories of such a ghostly ambition
to entertain at other's expense.
It is a growing up.
It is a wanting to be better.
One is great.
And one is small.
It is time to be
with who you
want to be
with.
06 February 2010
From me to you.
Deburque, Tasmia, and Bincetto are in a field while dusk arrives. Two graves are just off to their side. That day they buried Hemonia, Deburque's wife. She died in birth, along with child. Tasmia is Deburque's sister, and Bincetto her husband. It is a day they wish did not come. And dressed in black and white we see them talking. Tasmia with a green flower in her hair. Bincetto with a brilliant orange kerchief from the pocket in his coat. Deburque black shirt, black hat, black shoes, no tie, white rose pinned above the heart.
Bincetto. Where is your girl? Where has she gone? (talking more to the field and not Tasmia and Deburque)
Tasmia. Bincetto.
Deburque. He is right, she's sung her song. And in rest she lays so still, as we stand here on field and hill.
Tasmia. And your son, before age one, before a breath, his time has come.
Bincetto. Are you alone? Are you in need for us to go and take our leave?
Deburque. If I could I'd have you stay until I find a brighter day. For she, my love, she was my sun, and now she's gone like everyone, who's seen the seed they were now wilt, and in their death share the guilt, of leaving us of life behind, it was not their future. It was not their time.
Bincetto. Well time did come and has left you here, for us to have and take your care. You should stay with us my friend until this sadness has come to end.
Tasmia. Bincetto is right, we will always be here for you in your times of need. So come with us we will give you home, so you're heart does not sleep alone.
Deburque. (outraged) My heart alone, you do dare say, I've lost my wife and child today. So alone, yes it will be, from now until eternity. And the sadness come to an end, how can you call yourself a friend. You both hope to take my care, well care for me and leave from here. I need to mourn and miss my wife, to miss my babe, oh what a life I could have had in one more night, when both their smiles became my light, in one more day you would have seen, such a family we could have been. (kneels on one knee and speaks quietly and sad) Now they rest in pine and cloth, in the ground twelve paces off (pointing to their graves). And I am here (pointing to the ground) sad, and gray. I think I'll stay right here and lay. (Deburque lays down)
Bincetto and Tasmia talk to one another off to the side.
Tasmia. Oh my love what can we do? He is my brother and he is yours to. Look at him he is so weak, he has no strength to even weep. Should we go and leave him here for the moon and stars to care (gesturing the sky)? I can't just leave him.
Bincetto. This I know. There is no chance we turn and go. We stay for him until he can find his strength and be a man. He has lost his love, and he has lost a son. It's not a day to lose everyone.
Tasmia. Yes, I know, you are right, you always are, but tonight we must show him still that he is loved, let him see we can't be shoved away when he needs a shining light to help him through this starless night. So. What can we do? Should we sing, or hum a tune? Should we laugh and join him in? Start to dance and make him spin? (she spins when she says it) I just don't know. He is so sad. He's like our mother, when she lost our dad.
Bincetto. Death can be, as in its name, a source of hate, and a head of pain. But life can be such a promising thing. It makes you laugh. It makes you sing. It makes you smile for no reason at all (he stops and smiles). It is the joy inside us all. So. We give him life and talk a while of his wife and all their smiles. Of the day that they wed, and not say once that she's now dead. We make him see that he has cared for such a girl and they have shared such wonderful times in their past, and how their love will forever last.
Tasmia. Oh Bincetto (she hugs him). Now I know, all the reasons I love you so. You always know just what to do. that's why I am a fool for you. So let us go and show Deburque, of his love. I hope this works.
Bincetto. As do I, or I am the fool, and risk the chance of losing you.
Tasmia. Bincetto that would never be the case for why you would lose me. It would take much more for you to prove, that there is some devil inside you (she winks at him).
Bincetto and Tasmia walk over to Deburque and sit on either side of him.
Tasmia. Bincetto?
Bincetto. Yes Tasmia.
Tasmia. Do you recall the day the four of us, we all came to this field with food and wine and spent the day in such sublime (pause) happiness? And then at night Deburque and Hemonia gave us such a fright. They hid in wait until out of sight, and then jumped and scared us.
Bincetto. Oh what a night! The wine was great, the company as well. I've never been so far from hell. That same night Deburque did indeed, show his love from on one knee (he gets on one knee pretending to be Deburque on that night, and Tasmia stands up on the other side of Deburque pretending to be Hemonia). And said "Hemonia. I do declare, of all the folks in the world, I care for you the most. And it is true. If you'll have me, I will be your fool."
Tasmia. Oh yes, and Hemonia said "Ah Deburque your head is full of lead. Get off your knee and stand my friend. Take my hand and ask again." And he did. And you did (Tasmia pokes Deburque). And she said yes. And we spent the night in drunkenness. We laughed and cried and danced and sang. How I love remembering such things.
They wait a brief moment.
Deburque. I disagree. That is not what I said.
Bincetto. Oh yes it was.
Tasmia. Your head is full of lead.
Deburque. Bahhhh (now cheering up, still laying down) the both of you. I know what I said. I know the truth (he sits up). As I recall, I took her hand, and was the perfect gentleman. I said (he jumps up and takes Tasmia's hand as if she were Hemonia)"My dear. You are the one that I want in the days to come to be my wife, that special girl, to give me love and be my world."
Bincetto. Ha! I say you are a fool. And dreaming dreams that are not true. I've never heard you with such a tongue, that could flatter anyone.
Tasmia. He is right Deburque. We were there to. And what you say is not true. But you got the girl and got her love. For that, you should be proud of.
Deburque. No matter. You have your story and I have mine. I like mine better, and it is fine that the both of you have lost your minds.
Tasmia. Oh brother.
Deburque. Yes. I am here in tenderness. To let you know, that I'm here for you, both, when your minds have come unscrewed. (laughing now) Ah. What will I become when the two of you have gone dumb? Like children chasing balls, mindless, hopeless, no chance at all to carry on a thoughtful talk, or share a lovely garden walk, without the both of you getting lost, I do fear that the cost of taking care will take its toll, and I'll be gray before I'm old.
Tasmia. You are graying now (pointing to his head) 1,2,3,4,5 (counting his gray hairs).
Deburque. See. Already before my time.
There is another moments pause as Deburques head falls a little lower.
Bencitto. She made you laugh. She made you love.
Tasmia. And now she is with the stars above. The both of them are hand in hand, waiting for a father, waiting for a man. But not now Deburque, my loving brother, I know there could never be another Hemonia for you to fill the hole that is growing larger in your soul. Let it fill itself back in with the love you have for them.
Tasmia and Bincetto both put a hand on Deburque to comfort him. Silence for a moment then Deburque steps forward as their hands fall.
Deburque. (Touching his hair) Before my time. Before her time. Before their time. (Deburque walks over to the grave stones and Tasmia and Bincetto follow). She wrote me a letter three days before they both died in child birth (he takes the letter from a pocket, unfolds it and begins to read).
In that absence comes great will,
an effort given from both sides.
And the love that they hold
shall make them great when it is time.
As they wait they give and care,
as the wind does for the fire.
Let their bodies take the pressure
so that their love will never tire.
For the coals will forever burn,
that the flame will light the sky.
And as one they can grow together
until in hand they reply,
"Good morning life you are our future,
good morning sun you are our star.
Good morning man you are the lover,
good morning girl you are our heart."
From me to you.
Bincetto. She loves you still.
Tasmia. I know you know.
Deburque. I know. I know. Please. Let us go.
The three of them walk away as the lights fade out.
Bincetto. Where is your girl? Where has she gone? (talking more to the field and not Tasmia and Deburque)
Tasmia. Bincetto.
Deburque. He is right, she's sung her song. And in rest she lays so still, as we stand here on field and hill.
Tasmia. And your son, before age one, before a breath, his time has come.
Bincetto. Are you alone? Are you in need for us to go and take our leave?
Deburque. If I could I'd have you stay until I find a brighter day. For she, my love, she was my sun, and now she's gone like everyone, who's seen the seed they were now wilt, and in their death share the guilt, of leaving us of life behind, it was not their future. It was not their time.
Bincetto. Well time did come and has left you here, for us to have and take your care. You should stay with us my friend until this sadness has come to end.
Tasmia. Bincetto is right, we will always be here for you in your times of need. So come with us we will give you home, so you're heart does not sleep alone.
Deburque. (outraged) My heart alone, you do dare say, I've lost my wife and child today. So alone, yes it will be, from now until eternity. And the sadness come to an end, how can you call yourself a friend. You both hope to take my care, well care for me and leave from here. I need to mourn and miss my wife, to miss my babe, oh what a life I could have had in one more night, when both their smiles became my light, in one more day you would have seen, such a family we could have been. (kneels on one knee and speaks quietly and sad) Now they rest in pine and cloth, in the ground twelve paces off (pointing to their graves). And I am here (pointing to the ground) sad, and gray. I think I'll stay right here and lay. (Deburque lays down)
Bincetto and Tasmia talk to one another off to the side.
Tasmia. Oh my love what can we do? He is my brother and he is yours to. Look at him he is so weak, he has no strength to even weep. Should we go and leave him here for the moon and stars to care (gesturing the sky)? I can't just leave him.
Bincetto. This I know. There is no chance we turn and go. We stay for him until he can find his strength and be a man. He has lost his love, and he has lost a son. It's not a day to lose everyone.
Tasmia. Yes, I know, you are right, you always are, but tonight we must show him still that he is loved, let him see we can't be shoved away when he needs a shining light to help him through this starless night. So. What can we do? Should we sing, or hum a tune? Should we laugh and join him in? Start to dance and make him spin? (she spins when she says it) I just don't know. He is so sad. He's like our mother, when she lost our dad.
Bincetto. Death can be, as in its name, a source of hate, and a head of pain. But life can be such a promising thing. It makes you laugh. It makes you sing. It makes you smile for no reason at all (he stops and smiles). It is the joy inside us all. So. We give him life and talk a while of his wife and all their smiles. Of the day that they wed, and not say once that she's now dead. We make him see that he has cared for such a girl and they have shared such wonderful times in their past, and how their love will forever last.
Tasmia. Oh Bincetto (she hugs him). Now I know, all the reasons I love you so. You always know just what to do. that's why I am a fool for you. So let us go and show Deburque, of his love. I hope this works.
Bincetto. As do I, or I am the fool, and risk the chance of losing you.
Tasmia. Bincetto that would never be the case for why you would lose me. It would take much more for you to prove, that there is some devil inside you (she winks at him).
Bincetto and Tasmia walk over to Deburque and sit on either side of him.
Tasmia. Bincetto?
Bincetto. Yes Tasmia.
Tasmia. Do you recall the day the four of us, we all came to this field with food and wine and spent the day in such sublime (pause) happiness? And then at night Deburque and Hemonia gave us such a fright. They hid in wait until out of sight, and then jumped and scared us.
Bincetto. Oh what a night! The wine was great, the company as well. I've never been so far from hell. That same night Deburque did indeed, show his love from on one knee (he gets on one knee pretending to be Deburque on that night, and Tasmia stands up on the other side of Deburque pretending to be Hemonia). And said "Hemonia. I do declare, of all the folks in the world, I care for you the most. And it is true. If you'll have me, I will be your fool."
Tasmia. Oh yes, and Hemonia said "Ah Deburque your head is full of lead. Get off your knee and stand my friend. Take my hand and ask again." And he did. And you did (Tasmia pokes Deburque). And she said yes. And we spent the night in drunkenness. We laughed and cried and danced and sang. How I love remembering such things.
They wait a brief moment.
Deburque. I disagree. That is not what I said.
Bincetto. Oh yes it was.
Tasmia. Your head is full of lead.
Deburque. Bahhhh (now cheering up, still laying down) the both of you. I know what I said. I know the truth (he sits up). As I recall, I took her hand, and was the perfect gentleman. I said (he jumps up and takes Tasmia's hand as if she were Hemonia)"My dear. You are the one that I want in the days to come to be my wife, that special girl, to give me love and be my world."
Bincetto. Ha! I say you are a fool. And dreaming dreams that are not true. I've never heard you with such a tongue, that could flatter anyone.
Tasmia. He is right Deburque. We were there to. And what you say is not true. But you got the girl and got her love. For that, you should be proud of.
Deburque. No matter. You have your story and I have mine. I like mine better, and it is fine that the both of you have lost your minds.
Tasmia. Oh brother.
Deburque. Yes. I am here in tenderness. To let you know, that I'm here for you, both, when your minds have come unscrewed. (laughing now) Ah. What will I become when the two of you have gone dumb? Like children chasing balls, mindless, hopeless, no chance at all to carry on a thoughtful talk, or share a lovely garden walk, without the both of you getting lost, I do fear that the cost of taking care will take its toll, and I'll be gray before I'm old.
Tasmia. You are graying now (pointing to his head) 1,2,3,4,5 (counting his gray hairs).
Deburque. See. Already before my time.
There is another moments pause as Deburques head falls a little lower.
Bencitto. She made you laugh. She made you love.
Tasmia. And now she is with the stars above. The both of them are hand in hand, waiting for a father, waiting for a man. But not now Deburque, my loving brother, I know there could never be another Hemonia for you to fill the hole that is growing larger in your soul. Let it fill itself back in with the love you have for them.
Tasmia and Bincetto both put a hand on Deburque to comfort him. Silence for a moment then Deburque steps forward as their hands fall.
Deburque. (Touching his hair) Before my time. Before her time. Before their time. (Deburque walks over to the grave stones and Tasmia and Bincetto follow). She wrote me a letter three days before they both died in child birth (he takes the letter from a pocket, unfolds it and begins to read).
In that absence comes great will,
an effort given from both sides.
And the love that they hold
shall make them great when it is time.
As they wait they give and care,
as the wind does for the fire.
Let their bodies take the pressure
so that their love will never tire.
For the coals will forever burn,
that the flame will light the sky.
And as one they can grow together
until in hand they reply,
"Good morning life you are our future,
good morning sun you are our star.
Good morning man you are the lover,
good morning girl you are our heart."
From me to you.
Bincetto. She loves you still.
Tasmia. I know you know.
Deburque. I know. I know. Please. Let us go.
The three of them walk away as the lights fade out.
05 February 2010
Deleted
In it goes to the soul of the girl,
out it comes, her last breath,
and no one's around,
to hear what she says,
and that's the price you pay,
for living alone.
When you say goodbye,
or even when you don't,
it's just the choices you make,
that you hope are worth it.
And it's sharp like the night,
on days after a rainbow dies,
and all children lay their heads,
for a peaceful night that they'll never get.
Such an awful way to see your better off gone,
and all the people you knew,
they're all glad you're gone.
And no one will miss
the kind of anger you had,
and the sinister look behind your lovely eyes,
I spent a day with you, that lasted for years,
and that's all I need.
out it comes, her last breath,
and no one's around,
to hear what she says,
and that's the price you pay,
for living alone.
When you say goodbye,
or even when you don't,
it's just the choices you make,
that you hope are worth it.
And it's sharp like the night,
on days after a rainbow dies,
and all children lay their heads,
for a peaceful night that they'll never get.
Such an awful way to see your better off gone,
and all the people you knew,
they're all glad you're gone.
And no one will miss
the kind of anger you had,
and the sinister look behind your lovely eyes,
I spent a day with you, that lasted for years,
and that's all I need.
03 February 2010
I am a puddle
I have discovered something that I dislike more than hot, sunny days that make me sweat from the simplest of tasks, like breathing and blinking. And that is, hot nights where the temperature remains the same as it was during the day. Sometimes it even becomes warmer, preparing itself to make the populace miserable for their following day. Yes, there is no sun, so you can not get burned by it, but it is more irritating to have such devilish weather without the great fire ball to be seen. You, or me for that matter, are just laying there, in complete darkness, and the air tastes like a warm glass of skim milk. And you are nervous because you are not sure if there are little bugs and spiders running all over your body, or if it is just sweat escaping from your cooking body. You are being steamed to death from your inner machinery.
And that has been my position these past few nights. You can't even call the sub-unconscious delirium of mental loss and brain malfunction sleep because you can't be quite sure you are sleeping, or just melting into a puddle, and I'm not sure puddles sleep, rather they just sit there motionless and stagnant unless roused. They don't talk or think, they just are motionless wet matter, as I am between the hours of 2 a.m. and 6 a.m. every morning. I am a puddle.
Today was a blessing, still is actually. The clouds finally thought to get on some lazy form of gathering up, I think they are hot and tired themselves, so they are in no rush to relieve me from my torment. But, alas, they found the energy to toss themselves amongst one another and cause a small stirring of precipitation, which has cooled the air a touch, nothing worth talking much about, but a few degrees cooler. So it is pleasant. And actually, I do not even think it was rain they pissed upon us. The droplets were a bit salty to the taste, and the flora outside seemed to wilt in it a bit. I wouldn't be surprised that if because of all of their rumbling around and gathering together, the clouds just began to sweat as much as I did. It wasn't even a release of wonderful, needed, fresh rain. The poor bastards were just sweating on us, because it is too blerrie hot out.
Now I'm not usually one for complaining, but that seems to be all I can figure out worth doing in this heat. Piece of advice to all those thinking it is a good idea to come to Australia in the summer time. Stay away unless you like to have to change your shirt every three hours, and your underwear. And if you only have three pairs of underwear, eh hem, you are out of luck. Sure you could choose not to wear any, and you can choose not to wear a shirt, eh hem, but then you just leave sweaty body prints and saturate everything you touch, and every furniture you sit on. I swear, I saw a droplet of sweat that was rolling down my side earlier sweat itself. Seriously. My sweat is sweating.
I've lost three pounds since I started typing. I hope nobody sits on this couch for a few hours.
And that has been my position these past few nights. You can't even call the sub-unconscious delirium of mental loss and brain malfunction sleep because you can't be quite sure you are sleeping, or just melting into a puddle, and I'm not sure puddles sleep, rather they just sit there motionless and stagnant unless roused. They don't talk or think, they just are motionless wet matter, as I am between the hours of 2 a.m. and 6 a.m. every morning. I am a puddle.
Today was a blessing, still is actually. The clouds finally thought to get on some lazy form of gathering up, I think they are hot and tired themselves, so they are in no rush to relieve me from my torment. But, alas, they found the energy to toss themselves amongst one another and cause a small stirring of precipitation, which has cooled the air a touch, nothing worth talking much about, but a few degrees cooler. So it is pleasant. And actually, I do not even think it was rain they pissed upon us. The droplets were a bit salty to the taste, and the flora outside seemed to wilt in it a bit. I wouldn't be surprised that if because of all of their rumbling around and gathering together, the clouds just began to sweat as much as I did. It wasn't even a release of wonderful, needed, fresh rain. The poor bastards were just sweating on us, because it is too blerrie hot out.
Now I'm not usually one for complaining, but that seems to be all I can figure out worth doing in this heat. Piece of advice to all those thinking it is a good idea to come to Australia in the summer time. Stay away unless you like to have to change your shirt every three hours, and your underwear. And if you only have three pairs of underwear, eh hem, you are out of luck. Sure you could choose not to wear any, and you can choose not to wear a shirt, eh hem, but then you just leave sweaty body prints and saturate everything you touch, and every furniture you sit on. I swear, I saw a droplet of sweat that was rolling down my side earlier sweat itself. Seriously. My sweat is sweating.
I've lost three pounds since I started typing. I hope nobody sits on this couch for a few hours.
01 February 2010
Aeolus blows through
Lares and Cassandra are sitting at an outdoor table at a cafe. Lares is a government safety inspector of houses and buildings. Cassandra owns her own cafe, and she dabbles in palm and tarot card readings. They look busy chatting like friends. They have been meeting for coffee every week just to catch up. They have been friends for many years. They were there today, a day before they usually met, because they were waiting to meet Aeolus for a short time. A few people walk by them, and then we focus in on what they are saying. Cassandra has Lares hand in hers trying to read his palm.
Lares. (pulling his hand back) I am sorry to tell you this Cassandra. But. I. I love you. I have for some time now. I. I do.
Cassandra. (Looks stunned at first, and then uneasy) I didn't see that on your hand. (collects herself) Well. Lares. Sometimes we think we are in love, when really it is something else.
Lares. Don't talk to me like a child. I am not a child. I know what I know love is. And I know it is love.
Cassandra. Well what do you suppose we do with this then?
Lares. What do you mean?
Cassandra. Well given that you feel this way. What do you expect of telling me this?
Lares. We should... Well. I never really thought about it. Actually, I... I don't know.
Cassandra. That's not much of a proposal Lares. I mean. You tell me that you love me. For what? Just so I know?
Lares. A proposal. I didn't think anything would come from it. I know you and Aeolus are together. And you love each other. I didn't expect anything.
Cassandra. Oh. Really? (prodding him)
Lares. Well. (questioning and hesitant) I'm confused. Wait a second (looks around for a moment). Do you want me to expect something from telling you? I mean. Are you expecting something more from it?
Cassandra. No (bluntly) Not at all. I just wanted to see your intentions. You have none. And I'm glad that is the case. I've never felt that way for you. Really, not even close to that.
Lares. Oh (hurt). I knew that. (sees Aeolus) Oh no. Here comes Aeolus.
Aeolus enters.
Lares. Hey there Aeolus. How are you today?
Aeolus. I'm fine. Thanks for asking Lares. How are you two getting along?
Lares. Oh great. We were just talking.
Aeolus. Wonderful. (To Cassandra) Hello Love. You look lovely as ever (they exchange kisses). What were you two chatting about?
Cassandra. Actually we were discussing love.
Aeolus. Really?
Cassandra. Yes, isn't that right Lares?
Lares. (not knowing what to do or say) Uh. Yeah. That's right. We were.
Aeolus. (to Lares) Well careful with that subject. It's as tricky as it is useless (Aeolus laughs heartily).
Cassandra. Oh stop it. You don't mean that.
Aeolus. Sure I do. It's just an excuse to be close to someone. A reason to lay all your shit on somebody else. Take it from me Lares, you don't want to love.
Lares. No?
Aeolus. (picks Cassandra up in his arms) Of course not. Especially not someone like this one here (he kisses her). Someone who is beautiful (kisses her again), and smart (again) and lovely (again, then puts her down and turns to Lares) and needy, and wants all of your time, and wakes you up early to just say hello, and wants to brush her teeth with you, and asks how your mother is, and hides your shoes so you can't leave the house. It's terrible I tell you. too much to deal with most of the time.
Lares. Well I think I could deal with that.
Aeolus. (grabbing Cassandra's hand) Oh yeah. Well she is yours then (pushing Cassandra's hand over to Lares). (Lares is shocked) Go ahead take her.
Cassandra. Stop you brute. I wouldn't let you give me away. It's not that easy to get rid of me (she kisses him).
Aeolus. (to Lares) Well. She is right there. I've been trying to for years, and she is still at my side. Everyday. And every night.
Cassandra. That is because I love you Aeolus (proving her point to Lares).
Aeolus. (acting as if he was stabbed in the chest) Oh. That word again. Please not that word.
Cassandra. (playfully) Stop it. (to Lares) He is just being a jerk Lares. Aeolus is a fool for love.
Aeolus. Don't listen to her Lares. She says things all the time, and you can never trust them. She is just not to be trusted at all.
Cassandra. (to Aeolus) Oh shut up.
Aeolus. (to Cassandra thinking back to what she said a few seconds before) Wait a second. You just said my name and love in the same sentence. I mean. You said you loved me and called me by my name. You haven't done that in years. Are you feeling well (he puts his hand on her head to take her temperature)?
Cassandra. Yes doctor. I feel great. Just felt like mixing it up a little.
Aeolus. Well don't mix it up that much. I'm likely to think I am in trouble or something. OK Love. I have to go finish this business with Theodore. (He kisses her again) I know I'll see you tonight. As I always do.
Cassandra. (as Aeolus is walking away) Maybe not. Maybe tonight I'll go home with Lares.
Aeolus. (laughing in the distance) Finally. A night to myself.
Aeolus exits.
Lares. (Cassandra turns to Lares, still glowing from seeing Aeolus) Thanks for that.
Cassandra. (friendly) Oh shut up Lares. Drink your latte.
Lares. (sips his latte) He is in and out like the wind huh?
Cassandra. Well. He is a busy man. A beautiful, busy man.
Lares. I get the point Cassandra.
Cassandra. Good. He is everything for me. He is what I want to see when I wake up, and who I want to hear before I fall asleep.
Lares. (finishes his coffee and stands up) Well. I have to go. Sorry again. Take care.
Cassandra. (stands up) Stop it. Come here. (they hug). OK. I'll see you next week then.
Lares. OK Cassandra. I'll see you next week. How about next time, you make it awkward?
Cassandra. Sure thing. Sounds perfect. (Lares exits)
Lares. (pulling his hand back) I am sorry to tell you this Cassandra. But. I. I love you. I have for some time now. I. I do.
Cassandra. (Looks stunned at first, and then uneasy) I didn't see that on your hand. (collects herself) Well. Lares. Sometimes we think we are in love, when really it is something else.
Lares. Don't talk to me like a child. I am not a child. I know what I know love is. And I know it is love.
Cassandra. Well what do you suppose we do with this then?
Lares. What do you mean?
Cassandra. Well given that you feel this way. What do you expect of telling me this?
Lares. We should... Well. I never really thought about it. Actually, I... I don't know.
Cassandra. That's not much of a proposal Lares. I mean. You tell me that you love me. For what? Just so I know?
Lares. A proposal. I didn't think anything would come from it. I know you and Aeolus are together. And you love each other. I didn't expect anything.
Cassandra. Oh. Really? (prodding him)
Lares. Well. (questioning and hesitant) I'm confused. Wait a second (looks around for a moment). Do you want me to expect something from telling you? I mean. Are you expecting something more from it?
Cassandra. No (bluntly) Not at all. I just wanted to see your intentions. You have none. And I'm glad that is the case. I've never felt that way for you. Really, not even close to that.
Lares. Oh (hurt). I knew that. (sees Aeolus) Oh no. Here comes Aeolus.
Aeolus enters.
Lares. Hey there Aeolus. How are you today?
Aeolus. I'm fine. Thanks for asking Lares. How are you two getting along?
Lares. Oh great. We were just talking.
Aeolus. Wonderful. (To Cassandra) Hello Love. You look lovely as ever (they exchange kisses). What were you two chatting about?
Cassandra. Actually we were discussing love.
Aeolus. Really?
Cassandra. Yes, isn't that right Lares?
Lares. (not knowing what to do or say) Uh. Yeah. That's right. We were.
Aeolus. (to Lares) Well careful with that subject. It's as tricky as it is useless (Aeolus laughs heartily).
Cassandra. Oh stop it. You don't mean that.
Aeolus. Sure I do. It's just an excuse to be close to someone. A reason to lay all your shit on somebody else. Take it from me Lares, you don't want to love.
Lares. No?
Aeolus. (picks Cassandra up in his arms) Of course not. Especially not someone like this one here (he kisses her). Someone who is beautiful (kisses her again), and smart (again) and lovely (again, then puts her down and turns to Lares) and needy, and wants all of your time, and wakes you up early to just say hello, and wants to brush her teeth with you, and asks how your mother is, and hides your shoes so you can't leave the house. It's terrible I tell you. too much to deal with most of the time.
Lares. Well I think I could deal with that.
Aeolus. (grabbing Cassandra's hand) Oh yeah. Well she is yours then (pushing Cassandra's hand over to Lares). (Lares is shocked) Go ahead take her.
Cassandra. Stop you brute. I wouldn't let you give me away. It's not that easy to get rid of me (she kisses him).
Aeolus. (to Lares) Well. She is right there. I've been trying to for years, and she is still at my side. Everyday. And every night.
Cassandra. That is because I love you Aeolus (proving her point to Lares).
Aeolus. (acting as if he was stabbed in the chest) Oh. That word again. Please not that word.
Cassandra. (playfully) Stop it. (to Lares) He is just being a jerk Lares. Aeolus is a fool for love.
Aeolus. Don't listen to her Lares. She says things all the time, and you can never trust them. She is just not to be trusted at all.
Cassandra. (to Aeolus) Oh shut up.
Aeolus. (to Cassandra thinking back to what she said a few seconds before) Wait a second. You just said my name and love in the same sentence. I mean. You said you loved me and called me by my name. You haven't done that in years. Are you feeling well (he puts his hand on her head to take her temperature)?
Cassandra. Yes doctor. I feel great. Just felt like mixing it up a little.
Aeolus. Well don't mix it up that much. I'm likely to think I am in trouble or something. OK Love. I have to go finish this business with Theodore. (He kisses her again) I know I'll see you tonight. As I always do.
Cassandra. (as Aeolus is walking away) Maybe not. Maybe tonight I'll go home with Lares.
Aeolus. (laughing in the distance) Finally. A night to myself.
Aeolus exits.
Lares. (Cassandra turns to Lares, still glowing from seeing Aeolus) Thanks for that.
Cassandra. (friendly) Oh shut up Lares. Drink your latte.
Lares. (sips his latte) He is in and out like the wind huh?
Cassandra. Well. He is a busy man. A beautiful, busy man.
Lares. I get the point Cassandra.
Cassandra. Good. He is everything for me. He is what I want to see when I wake up, and who I want to hear before I fall asleep.
Lares. (finishes his coffee and stands up) Well. I have to go. Sorry again. Take care.
Cassandra. (stands up) Stop it. Come here. (they hug). OK. I'll see you next week then.
Lares. OK Cassandra. I'll see you next week. How about next time, you make it awkward?
Cassandra. Sure thing. Sounds perfect. (Lares exits)
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