Spaces

Tuesday 6.45am

I hurt somebody close to me with my last post. It was unintentional, and the post was not about what she thought it was. But it happened and I regret it. In lettering, in drawing and music I think it is the spaces inbetween the lines and the notes that just as important as what is written. And in relationships as well, sometimes it is what you don't say that is as important as what you do say. I am not a cruel person and would never knowingly hurt another living thing, so this is my last post. From now on my thoughts will remain private, just for me.

All those . . . moments . . . . will be lost in time, like tears in rain.





Blogs are strange, quite often the person just stops posting and you are left wondering why. So if you have stumbled upon this one, I hope this explanation helps. The quote is from Bladerunner.

Choose Life

Friday 1.30pm

At lunchtimes I like to sit outside. Under the bright sun there is just me and the birds, the blackbirds, mynah birds and occasionally a flock of sparrows passing through. Sitting there I look at the birds and wonder about them, what do they have. Just themselves really, and the grass and the sun, which we all have to share. And what do I have. Well, the clothes I am wearing and my lunch. Same as the blackbirds really. Anything else ? Time ? The days must just stretch out ahead of the birds but I only have this hour here before going back to work. And pressure, I can feel it inside me, I don't want to go back to work but must. I have a mortgage to pay, food to buy, all the trappings of modern life. Modern human life that is. A man called Maslow had a theory about a hierachy of needs. It started at the bottom with the most basic needs - food and shelter, which need to be attained before moving up the pyramid to more advanced things like creativity and charity. And yet for all my supposedly advanced humanity I spend most of my time at the bottom of this pyramid. Looking at these birds I cannot say that I have achieved any more than they have, and I certainly cannot say I am any more " advanced " than them. Deep down I have a yearning for a simpler life. It would a brutal life, yes, it would be cold, wet and painfull but I would gladly take that if it meant losing this constant, sucking tiredness that I wade through at the moment.

Yea right you'll say, dream on, you'll never do it, but none of us knows what we are capable of, and dreams contain the seeds of change, it is where it all starts.

Chameleon 9

In Edinburgh, Chris woke late, to find himself under a distant unfamiliar ceiling. White, white ceiling, large white spherical paper lampshade. White plaster moulding round the periphery, faint cracks running this way and that, and a faint powdery yellow stain in one corner. Coving he thought to himself, and then It is all true. He lay there sleepily remembering yesterdays events. The house was quiet. In the background were the muted city sounds, mostly traffic but the house itself had that silence, that stillness that only an empty house can have. The window was a bright white rectangle set into the shadowy wall, the sun was on the other side of the flat, it was still morning. No curtains he noticed, then Ahh, shutters. A dark line down the side of the deep window reveal gave hint to the original shutters tucked away. Clues, all clues to the two strangers that were now part of his life. My real parents. Eventually his bladder threatened to burst forcing him to get up and go for a pee. He wandered down to the kitchen in his boxers and tee shirt, yawning and stretching. The kitchen was exactly as he had first seen it the afternoon before, tidy, neat. On the table, pinned down by a blue and white cylindrical vase was a neatly written note and upon that, two keys. Chris held the keys, front door, stairdoor, as he read the note.
" Teaching up at the university, George square, this week - left early and didn't want to disturb you."
" Make yourself at home, eat anything etc, we will be home around six and will sort out supper then. "
It was signed " J & A "
" ps will pick up a cable on the way home and get you online this evening, see you then "
Make yourself at home, cool, Chris thought and started exploring the cupboards. Most of Valvona & Crolla was there but not much teenager food. Lets try the fridge. Ok, lots of yoghurt and cheese, bottled water, milk and orange juice. Pouring himself a glass of orange juice, Chris took the milk to the table and went back to the cupboards for the big bag of muesli he had found along with some drinking chocolate powder, a white bowl, a spoon and a glass jug. With chocolate milk the muesli was much more appetising and he contentedly munched his way through two bowlfulls whilst strolling round the kitchen, peering into cupboards and drawers once again. One shelf contained cookery books, Indian, Chinese, Italian and some by Nigella Lawson. Pinned to a small notice board near the door were timetables and a calender with notes about meetings "Chris - first contact" it said in yesterday, along with some phone numbers, one of them his. He unpinned a postcard of an old german looking building to read the back. " Prague beautifull as expected. Conference oscillating between interesting and dull, again as expected. Hoping to see some progress in your work when I get back next month, will tell all the gossip then. James " Underneath the postcard a faded newspaper photo was revealed. Chris peered at it and a smiling sheep and lamb peered back but the writing itself had all faded, more clues. Once finished he went off to explore further. At the kitchen door he stopped and looked back, then came back in and washed his bowl and glass carefully in the sink and put everything away. Going into each room in turn he looked out of the windows. Chris always did this, he liked to know where he was, he looked but did not touch. There was something fragile about this new situation that he did not want to spoil. The door to the closed room remained that way, he got as far as putting his hand on the handle but again something stopped him. He went on to the sitting room.