Journal Entries
love ........by haiku
Posted Sep 14, 2006
Beautiful mystery
Embracing all I could be
You recreate me
I want this moment
Just born, achingly tender
To live for ever
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Latest reply: Sep 14, 2006
tuesday 12th september 2006
Posted Sep 12, 2006
i am planning a new story ..... already i have the title ..... "A life in (parenthesis)" ... it's a notion that intrigues me .... what goes on in the brackets of our existence.... the subplot.... the dreams that went into hiding back in '79 and only come out when the moon is high....or the drinking cup deep.... the (parenthesis) of being facinates me so much more than the main arena....
i'm not talking about secrets and lies here.... more the parallel life that we might have been....the subterranean us.... the part of our personality that bides its time...waiting for its moment to absorb us...
and of course if the (parenthesis) were to be unbracketed.....
might take a long time in the writing this one.....
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Latest reply: Sep 12, 2006
saturday 9th september 2006
Posted Sep 9, 2006
there are spaces in between lover's whispers that authenticate the words ... always....
when words come tumbling head on tail one after the other...unpunctuated with the silence of wonder ... i grow suspicious
when there is no playing with half full wineglasses..... groping for time and space to measure meaning... to test for internal integrity.... or even to silently appreciate the simple beauty of human communication... i know that there is no truth....
we sat together as the day wore empty..... night fell and the stars observed our longings...... words unpicked scars and laid them on the table.... silence processed love more deep and desperate than either of us could understand.... wine stained across the space between us and drew us closer... and love became a scar upon a scar upon a scar (as duke special wrote in his magnificent song).....
and when we were done there was no more loss in longing ...... for all had been completed.....
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Latest reply: Sep 9, 2006
thursday 7th september 2006
Posted Sep 7, 2006
i'm just home from work and facing the laptop wondering what to write...
there's an old John Prine song "Angel from Montgomery" that contains the immortal question ... "how the hell can one man/ go to work in the morning/ and come home in the evening/ and have nothing to say?"
i find that today i am that man.... and it scares me .... scares me that not only have i nothing to say to anyone else .. which is a state of affairs that with me is quite often the case.... but that i actually i have nothing to say to myself.... which is, i suppose, what this journal keeping is all about ....
now, of course, i know me better than that ..... and i know that i always have opinions to share with myself .... because, to be fair, i provide myself with a very appreciative and understanding audience when my cognitive ramblings take me off into parallel realms of idiosyncratic worldviews...... but today ..... it appears that i have nothing..... i stare at my own soul in total silence....shuffle on the seat in embarassment .... and look for some nearby diversion to ease the tension....
i type and delete fice opening lines...... each of them more pretentious pr self delusory than the one before .... no... i genuinely have nothing to say....
so myself and i are left with nothing else to do but to sit in companionable silence..... waiting for evening....
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Latest reply: Sep 7, 2006
wed 6th sept 2006
Posted Sep 6, 2006
somebody criticised one of my babies today...well, late last night when i was asleep to be precise, but no matter....you can't be awake defending your early prose efforts all the time...he said it left him feeling "so what".... which is, of course, how it should have left him feeling...being, as it was, about the arbitrary intrusion of unexpected death into the warp & woof of mundane life... in fact "so what" is probably the only response we can make that has integrity...."so what" is one of the most fundamental questions that a thinking human can face...
anyway, as usual i digress....i wasn't offended by his comments... though i wish he had disliked the style, or the structure, or the choice of adverbs, nouns and pronouns rather than the philosophical subtext...because it was an early baby ... some might say premature...and my grasp of structure style and syntax was to say the least sketchy back then...having grown up in belfast, however, my understanding of the death/life matrix was somewhat more developed...
but we criticise what we criticise.... and all criticism is welcome...
ironically the next thread down in my conversation list informed me that the baby was to be featured in The Post tomorrow....one man's meat eh...!
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Latest reply: Sep 6, 2006
ianhimself
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