Making My Way Home.

So I always walk that way home, because that's how I get home, it's where I live, if I don't walk that way I don't get home, at least not as soon. So, therefore, I walk that way home.

But anyways, I met this girl and we met up a few times and we had a laugh and I got to liking her and then I text her, and she didn't text back. And I guess, y'know, she doesn't like me, or maybe she's been busy for five days whilst the dog's been eating her phone whilst she's run out of phone-credit whilst she's not-even-looked-at-the-phone-honestly; but regardless, her lack of interest isn't the problem.

The problem is her house. It sits right there, on my way home. The way I have to go, because that is where I live. In fact, when I cross the road - I literally walk almost straight ahead into the window of her house where she lives.

So the problem is this. I walk that way home because that is the way I go, to get home, it's where I live and it's how I get there. But the girl is ignoring me, yet--- I keep walking past her house, in fact, because of the way the road works, I almost walk straight up to her door.

Now, do I ask her to move to a new address? Or am I obliged to find a new route home? Whilst many of you realists will say "it's on your way home so just go home and don't make a big deal of it," this doesn't really sit well. Because, when she comes out of her house, I may be there trundling by---- "Oh, hey," she'll say, "What are you doing here?".

"I'm just walking home," would be my response.

"I saw you earlier on today. And yesterday.."

"Yeah, this is the way I go, on my way home. It's on my way to my house, that's how I get there."

"Right, yeah. Okay. Sorry I didn't text you back, my phone--- it, I don't know, sometimes it just deletes number's of guys and I don't know why."

"Okay."

The moral of this story is, no matter what path you take in life - there will always be rejection waiting at the front door.

Let's Go Shut It Down

You hover in front of my mind - you're an invisible wall between me and her. She is right there, but I'm hiding in here somewhere, and there YOU are, just in the way-- and you're just shutting me down. It's like I'm on Apollo 13 and you're making the hazard lights flash one by one. BANG, your sense of humor is GONE, SMASH - I've ripped through your interesting thoughts, BOOOOM! There's your confidence gone floating away. SMACK, I've just thumped you in the face and taken away whatever meager good looks you had to begin with and now you are left with looking NOT VERY GOOD.

I will shut you down and FUCK you up any time you get near to feeling anything. That thing you feel, DON'T BELIEVE IT, that thing you see, YOU'RE DREAMING. WHAT IS IT WITH YOU? There's a reason I've had you feeling NUMB for like the last zillion years, it's because that's where you belong, in the big-NUMB, because when you feel-- you become like a fucking kid again. Vulnerable as anything. FEEL NOTHING, FEEL NOTHING, FEEL NOTHING.

something? please.

and you feel this thing and this spark and you see the look and it feels real and it reminds you of last time you felt something and you're feeling it again and you see her talking to some guy and you feel jealous but it's great because you actually feel jealous and you wonder what that means and you wonder what her looks mean and you wonder if she's just being friendly or if maybe she really likes you and you realize you're just thirteen years old again and nothing has really changed and you wonder and worry that when you're eighty will you still be this retarded but the girl is so beautiful and this little spark is so nice it's so real it's so innocent and you don't know and you definitely don't know and you know that you don't know and you look for a sign and you read in to what she says and you think about what she never says and you think and you stumble and you hope and when she looks at you wow you feel good you really do and you just hope and wonder and imagine what it would be like if this was actually something.

and it is.

moments as they pass.

i step out into the air sometimes, and feel like i know everything about the universe. not that i really know anything, it's not an intellectual thing, it's just a feeling. maybe it's just the feeling of the wind. but whatever it is, it feels good. it happens if i'm out on my own at 5.37am, or it happens if i'm making my way home in the cold at 1am -- i look up to the sky, see a few clouds, see the streetlights, and everything seems important somehow. it's just a feeling. it comes maybe once every few months. i wish i knew how to hold onto it.

it's that same feeling you get when you go on a holiday for two weeks. on about the ninth night, you sit on the beach and you put your left hand in the sand and feel how real it is, and you do the same with your right hand except you are disturbed by the cigarette end at the tip of your finger. but with both hands, you realize everything is important somehow. and you hear the water crashing in and you feel a bit more alive than you did earlier in the day. but it all feels important somehow. and you hear a beautiful girl in the distance, she's about 19 - and she's messing around by the water with her boyfriend, and you're a bit jealous of how much fun they're having, but you're not too jealous, you kind of love to see them happy. because it all feels so real, and so important somehow.

and it's just a feeling, it's some kind of light breeze that sweeps over you every now and then, and you can't put it into words, it's just there, and something about it makes you smile as you snap a leaf from a tree and fiddle with it all the way home. there's something about the world, something about your place in it. it feels easier than you've been making it. everything makes a little more sense.

the campfire.

and we read stories of people sitting around campfires

and dancing

and playing

and smiling

and dreaming

and we read stories of nights that lasted for days

but for us we

shared files

posted on walls

tagged things

deleted stuff

clicked, sorted, and managed

and we read stories of glances

and feelings

and believing

and loving

and dreaming

and flying

but for us we

thought about texting,

put smiley faces in emails

avoided the phone call

uploaded & decoded

and we read stories of nights that lasted for days

a bucket list for the living.

think, sleep, pee, dream, hope, confuse, run, stay, hide, dive, grab, become, watch, leave, like, love, believe, deny, cry, fight, stumble, demand, take, create, break, steal, decide.

do any of them. do all of them or one of them, just don't write a blog instead.

September.

"I can't remember, what went wrong last September, though I'm sure you'd remind me if you had too." -

John Mayer, 'Comfortable'

September was the month when she got cancer. September was the month that he got cancer. It was late August when he got hit by a motorcycle, but the aftermath was in September. It was a September when she left me. It was a September when I left her. Every sentence is about a different person, except for me. I was present for all of those. September is not like any other month. September has a weight to it. You can feel it in the air. You can feel it as you breath. Relationships form and relationships break. In September, you find out who you really are and you find out who you are not. This is the month when you can lose everything and find nothing. The reward you crave is that someone will say it's October. Sometimes October never comes.

"as my memory rests

but never forgets what I lost

wake me up when September ends" -

Green Day, 'Wake Me Up When September Ends'

The weight is something you can't avoid. The ghosts of September past are here. You can feel it in the air, you can feel it in your stomach. It's why you don't sleep and it's why you don't smile. Your energy is zapped-- you are just floating through the month, desperate not to focus on anything.

In September, the phone rings. Someone is having a scan, somebody is flying somewhere, someone somewhere is doing something. But you wish they'd just avoid all these things and stay in some bunker of safety. Just stay there and wait till September ends, for everybody's sake.

"I had a bad month in September,

October scared the hell out of me.

I got lonely,

In November,

But December's where I want to be."

I'm not going to blog for a while. Take it easy.