Wednesday, 24 February 2016

Nobody Wants To See Marshall No More They Want Shady I'm Chopped Liver.

Hey how's it hanging? I've been on a sabbatical. I've been doing a lot of things, never explain, never complain, etc.

In this apartment of mis-matched furniture I found my favourite Vladimir Tretchikoff print. I bought it years ago from a little rickety shop next to a pier near that cool cinema on the Central Coast.

I remember holding her in my hands on the drive home and I felt so so sad for some sad reason I forget now but looking at her made me happy and she gave me strength and a kind of peace. She's up on my wall like some kind of cool as shit guardian.

I bought my son a yabby and it fucking up and died so I had to pretend I took it to the vet to get but my son is too switched on, knew it died, then all the other fish died, he was so upset and all I wanted for him was to have his own pets for when he comes to my place. Stupid idea. The fishtank is sitting up on top of a shelf in the kitchen, empty and waiting for a hermit crab. Or a lizard. At a later date. Not right now .. I can only kill one thing at a time.

I been finding feathers in the gutter, thinking of you who read here and wondering what you're all up to and what you thought about my sabbatical and I didn't reply to a lot of emails because I didn't know what the right thing was to do for a while but my heart thinks (because my heart has its own brain apparently) .. my heart thinks I need to still write.

It's been stormy for quite some time now. Predictions are sunny with a chance of rain but no tsunamis, hurricanes, cyclones or catastrophes of any kind. A clearing in the forest.

I live right near the cop shop and every time I walk outside I think OH MY GOD THE COPS ARE ON TO ME but then I remember I live right near the cop shop. I know some of them by name. We compare tattoos. I told this one copper his tattoo looked shit and he agreed and I just said, "Look - tell people some outlandish story about it, like it's about your ancestors or something." He said he would. I had to buy a jack and jacked my car up too far to change my tyre so I had to lower the jack. Something about friction. I own a jack. I drive a manual car now .. it's good to focus. Gear-crunching bunny hops and all.

I been writing pieces in my head constantly like a hunger itch the more I scratch the hungrier it gets. The world is brimming with bright gleaming objects. There is safety to be found in certain objects, and not others. I like my spoon collection and Di and Charles Official Engagement Commemorative tin of my grandmothers. It's filled with teabags. It makes me feel safe.

Somebody sent me flowers. (I highly doubt it was the angry dude who lives downstairs.)

I've been busy being silent. A wise man once said nothing. The sea gathers itself back up again, constantly ebbing and flowing, pouring.

I turned into an angel and then back again - phew. That was a close call. Can't call this a comeback coz I never left. Anyway I haven't finished yet.

And you ... how you really been? What makes you feel safe?

No comments:

Post a Comment

Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...