30 06 2011, London

Strangers in the Night

A series of bars, a series of beautiful faces

Of laughing smiles and glistening white teeth
Of arched brows and over-shoulder glances
Of a wine in the hand, and a cigarette in the other
(Here we take life and death together)

Of cascading conversations about nothing in particular and everything at once
Of enthused introductions and realised connexions
Of witty eyes and generous grins

Of the slow descent into floaty intoxication and communal seduction
Of beautiful goodbyes at the ends of endless nights
Of emerging into the city's breathtaking exactitude from smokey hallucinations

We dreamed it all and we wake up alone
Only to play it all over again, again, again
(Whether in mind or body - it is the same)

Until all that's left is a series of bars
A series of memories
Of deep words and fleeting expressions
Of beautiful faces -
Glowing candlelit, peripheral, with ever-fading edges -
The cold shock of Time
The joyful pain of ecstasy surpassed

The knowledge that all series must end
And that the end was written in those radiant stars
From the first time we think 'beautiful'

29 06 2011, London

tired and tired
i want to go home
i want to stop
self
reflecting
self
projecting
i want a hug
with someone who
just gives it
without expecting
me to be
clever
beautiful
witty
well-dressed
cosmopolitan
challenging
sexy
interested
interesting

someone who just loves
me
like the animal
that i am

that we are

26/27 06 2011, London

six minutes left

cyber cafe life
headphones fading in and out of functionality

now five

and what did I want to say?
something about something else
entirely

in speaking in third person
about something
with someone
with whom the topic is actually first person
with whom the topic is actually yours
one feels the weight of abstraction
the inherent fear -

three minutes -

of revealing that behind the third person
generalisations
there is a first person
an intimate person
a relationship
something very, very particular indeed

if we could escape our social moulding!

one minute

even in love we are tormented by fear
and if truth is only a dream
abstraction brings it closer

16 06 2011, Paris

things always seem much lamer in hindsight
either that
or we romanticise them and make them seem much more wonderful
both are lies
lies
to make our lives tolerable

06 06 2011, Berlin

another sign

during thunder lightning torrential rain storm
where i find the most beauty and reason to smile
kids running

04/05 06 2011, Berlin

one chooses to read this as one likes

on the first day a beaded Union Jack bracelet falls out of the arm of a lounge chair we are moving

"it's a sign" Florinn says to me

today, whilst exploring a courtyard, I see one lone photo lying on the ground beside a skip bin

I pick it up
it shows the back of a woman
dark-haired, dressed in black
looking at Tower Bridge

"it's a sign" I say to myself


(we generate meaning from events we presume are unrelated in order to give our lives shape and sense
both are delusions
but neither dangerous
unless taken to be necessary instead of chaotic
for the shape and sense of life exists more precisely in the chaotic than in the necessary)