ADVICE: you were once wild here, don't panic

where is the old voice? slower fingers. less desire. or more. you can't do this every day babe, anyway, fear? the greatest paralyser.

turn my paralysis into synthesis(photo). an easy line - make it real for me?

i am the only agent of my own conciousness.

begin at the beginning...again ... i turn through seasons and am older but the same. who is that voice before me? can we speak to one another?

i could use chatGPT to create a synthesis - how to have a conversation with your younger self. learn from each other. that would teach me something else.

i want to know what my synthesised self would say. today? absence is not bliss. wake yourself up, babe.

going to a christmas party with the extended community to eat food and drink and play games, where there will be people i know and respect and care about and fun

meeting an old friend and lover who is driving all the way across the peak district to see me! to catch up and share time and stories and eat together and laugh and play

and then dancing in the evening... dancing ! dancing ! dancing ! more play !

the lights of the everyman theatre are kaleidoscopic, green and blue and purple and pink

the lights below are gold and red for christmas, it is the festive season beginning too, there is a man walking up and down the steps next to me

the sky is blue grey cloud cover red over the sky, two nights ago me and helen were playing under the stars, playiing under the stars, playing, is what we were doing

my body is singing, is what debs said last night, i wanted to sit and hear my body sing, i heard many things, i walked out smiling

marius said the logic is one way of thinking, the zen is it's opposite, i said i feel contained, restricted

roshi asked me what my nature is, i answered easy going, anxious, i drew from his words, after i thought, repressed

he said so zen has spent ten years on the back burner, the simple things are often the hardest, like love

i do not want to wait ten years to do another important thing, like love, dance, sing

the simple things are often the hardest

i want to live right now, happy birthday

maybe it happens, s l o w e r

i have moved my aching knees, the tea is not hot, less is more

i think i intended to write every night, i did not, today i write whenever i want-ed, mixing plurals and past, adverbs and tense-ions

tonight i was fucked by a lover, i didn't used to be fucked by lovers when i began this blog

towards the end i fucked, inwardly and outwardly, there are other places to express that, here i was expressing love, here i was, just expressing love...

e x p r e s s me, re light desire, for self, for thought,

I know all is not lost, i know it’s not true, if you want to be scared, be scared, there is plenty- 

O p  e  n

i feel a multitude of sadnesses today

i have lost the hardrive that contained all of the work of three years of university and studies and friendships and loves and poems and writing and desires and images

so some things survive, but so much is lost and i am crying hot wet tears because it feels like grief, like a part of myself has disappeared and i am worried it will never come back

and then i wonder if that part is merely the hardrive or if there is something else that i am missing and that is a mere representation of it

it's like losing a key, to a door of somewhere that you love and you can never get it again, it's locked, it's like losing the key. but what does that mean, it means there is somewhere you want to go, somewhere you want to be and have access to, and where is that

where is the place you are longing to be, longing to unlock

and i sort of know, but it is intangible, but sometimes it's worth setting intangible goals, goals that cannot be written or spoken or touched, but are always just out of reach, it is worth searching for them, it is worth setting those goals

there is this unreachable place i miss, this idea, this feeling, this not knowing and trying and failing and falling through fear and confusion, and knowing there is something more important beyond all this uncomfortability that is worth pursuing

when i see images of art which i think is wonderful it makes me want to cry, it makes me want to look away, i feel so uncomfortable, i am not willing to engage, to look deeply at it, to think, to give myself the time, to be inspired or want to produce... i simply cannot stand it, and why is that, because i feel a sense of a self abandoned, of work left behind, of work not done...

rest

solitude

movement _ physical / spiritual ? breathing and stretching

looking at the trees on a bank holiday morning before the cars have started to drive

quiet speaking that’s going nowehere

going nowhere

softness

rest

solitude

the alleviation of pressure

Just in me room, avin a sit, on me own, chillin out

the sounds of barlow moor road are below, i’m not wearing any clothes, and when I stand up on the bed to close the window, if anyone looked up from the restaurant decking below, they’d see me naked, in all me bare and shining glory lit by streetlight

but they never do, I make a point of looking at them every time I close the window, but they’re all too engrossed in drinks and after dinner conversation and each other, to look up

Imogen says that often out of car crashes good things come, she’s talking metaphorically of course, out of car crashes come large insurance payments, the loss of your no claims bonus and often injury or death. I crashed the works van today, though really it was a bump, it just left a big dent in the fancy white BMW. If I owned a big fancy white BMW I wouldn’t care if it had a big dent in it and would drive it anyway, but the woman was adamant it needed fixing right away, and was lamenting that she didn’t know how she would get to work while it was in the garage. I suggested getting it fixed later, at another date, when she didn’t need to use it to go to work. She said that she had to have it fixed immediately. This is one of the reasons why she owns a shiny white BMW and I don’t.

Another is that she probably doesn’t spend her work life driving a van for £8.21 an hour, trying not to crash into peoples shiny white four wheelers in the city streets.

Imogen was talking about the last 4 weeks or so as being the car crash in my life, highlighted by today’s literal one. I found it useful, it proved something was wrong, at least I have decided it has. I don’t normally crash the van. And here I am now, doing something that I know is healthy and useful for me – writing.

In the last month, Mum has gone into hospital for a mastectomy, to remove her breast cancer, first of all she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and we all thought she was going to die, her included. Now we know she isn’t going to die immediately, probably, at least the probability of her dying immediately is much lower and more back to normal like the most of us, who could trip over a cat or cross the road at the wrong minute of the wrong day.

Then through circumstances outside of my control I realised I would have to move house. Strike that, I have to move house, something I have been ignoring (pretending isn’t happening) for the last three weeks. Now there are six days left of my tenancy and it seems much more real, and I have realised I may have to pay some attention to that situation, to try and do it well, or at least not go completely arse over tits up through it.

Then Grandad went into hospital, this is the hardest thing to write about because it is where the most pain is, the pain of mum being worried, and upset, mum already being vulnerable, grandad being so vulnerable, and my aunty and my mothers relationship with his main carer and partner who is a total stone cold bitch, through no fault of her own. The pain of people loving in sickness, and being only human and scared. And hard to write because it made me feel so helpless, when I see him like that, I don’t know what to say or do, if it was my own mother or father, or aunty, or any other friend of family member I would, but maybe I feel grandad has never really known me, not as me, and I don’t know how to show myself, how to act, I can’t express how I feel to him, I freeze. And wish I knew what to do or say, to give him more, because I love him, from all those years when I was younger, I love him for being who he is, I love him like the family love that is strong and beating and there, and it is so sad to see a person unwell. He is getting better now, but he is still old, and will keep being old.

All of this is sad, there are a lot of things that are sad and give me sadness. I suppose there are a lot of things that give me joy and light as well, but at the moment, the ones that give me sadness are the ones I feel most strongly.

And on top of this, I worry that I am not good enough, warm enough, open enough, in fact I feel closed, that’s what sadness can do to you, and upheaval and fear. Fear is only natural, and a very human thing.

I don’t know what else to write, about where I want to be going, who I want to be. Ha, a funny question, one that we just made up. Who’s we? One that I just made up. I suppose where am I going to live, really, that’s what i’m thinking about, and how will that influence my behaviour and my life, and I want to choose somewhere that will have a positive influence on my behaviour and life. A positive influence on mind, body, spirit… soul.