Time Rolls On......

July soon becomes August. If I only had a pause button, if only I could choose one perfect summer moment (there are, of course, too many to pick just one) pause it, force it to stay around for a bit, linger in it, enjoy it without fear of missing the next moment. If I could put my feet up a bit, if I could decompress a bit, if only I had time to take a bit more of it all in. But, no, no, time marches on, seasons change, decisions need to be made, plans formulated, leaves soon need raking.

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Deep Breathing..part II

Even when I am at rest, my brain fires. I rush from back deck, to kitchen, to laptop. I fear that time is chasing me down. I am a slave to the clock. What if I miss something?

Perry drives by, I see his tail lights, I therefore, do not wave..a missed moment? Or was it? If I had have waved to Perry, would that then have been an accountable event? Where is the story there?

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Deep Breathing.....

I drink a dark English stout. I stare at the cat, which is
relaxed on a pillow. Does he worry about time? Missed opportunity? He sleeps 3/4s of the day away. His main concern is slipping out the front door, an odd romp in the backyard, the chasing of birds, and bugs. I wish I were feline. Cat I am not. I am a neurotic human male. One with his own quirks. One that can not decompress. Rush, rush. I go and go. Stretch, yawn, scratch.

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Sitting, Relaxing, Messing About

Ahhh, a couple of hours of carefree nothingness. A short period of decompression. Life has been hectic. I fear that all this running about, is going to make the summer disappear. I have been enjoying every minute of it, and I do not want it to end. I need to take the odd hour here and there to take stock, to write it down, to enjoy it..to slow it down. I need to exhale.

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When the Moon is this Big

It must be the fact that moon is 3 times its normal size. This must explain why my feet barely touch the ground. My restlessness, explained by this strange lunar cycle, my mood ebbing and flowing with the tides. This grin of mine, these dimples I can't hide.

Or, or maybe I am solar powered, a hot, hot summer day has made everything gay, all is ok. The powerful combination of moon and sun. Oh and the Big Dipper that fits snug between two trees in her backyard. Its been a big sky week, fireworks and all.

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Farting Round....

The humidity has broke. I no longer sit and sweat, think and sweat, drink and sweat...ah. Today I relax, I lounge about, I sit, I gab, I try not to distract.

Should be a good day to write. To let the fingers do the talking, mental diarrhea expunged, brain emptied of stored up sludge...a soul oil change. Carry on, ignore the typing female at the other end of the couch. The cat that cuddles. The traffic that zooms by, the locals who peek in the window. Focus, center, write the unwritten. Carry on, move on, shuffle the bruised ass, now numb. Numb is fine, today, it seems right. Brain full of bollocks, no poetry, no grand ideas, simply words, spit out higgly-piggly for the sake of well, um well writing?

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The Gimp....

I arrive home after a night peddling beer and for the most part Digby scallops (they were all the rage, a 'special', that was actually special, minus the rice), only to hear the voice of Katie, which instantly made me grin...however, and egad, I spot the crutches, my heart sinks. Katie is damaged, she is gimped...sigh.

Ok, nothing broken, she has a badly bruised right foot, a work related injury (dangerous occupation that of an artist). All this is fine, (sucks to be her) because it allows me to coddle and spoil. I take care of my friends, does my soul good to protect, to make things well.

The image of her bounding through the house, a room at a time on crutches is a sight to behold. I am thinking that she might be a world champion calibre 100 metre crutchist. Para-Olympics here she comes.