Before his first step he’s off again.

Long time no blog; that’s how the saying goes, right?

Given the lack of substance you’re about to endure, I’d better offer something tangible. I’ve been formulating an idea for a book (so soon after I started another one….discipline = O). Roughly, it’s about eating each other; a world in which the moral abhorrence of eating people has dissipated, and some humans are actually farmed from birth in order to feed the more fortunate humans. I hope I can pull it off. I imagine it will be shocking, but hopefully good.

For the past few days I’ve had a friend visiting from back home. We’ve known each other a long time now; about 6 years. It’s a cute story, really, but I’ll save it for in person. The short version is we never met, txt’d for about a year, finally met in person, then didn’t meet again for so so long. Anyway, 6 years later we’re finally hanging out regularly and it’s just ridiculously pleasurable.

She came and stayed at our flat down south; Tom’s away so his room was free (who, incidentally, might be stuck in a North Korean labour camp atm). Initially figured we’d camp for 3 or so days but I managed to end that idea by forgetting the tent, discovered at approximately 8pm of our first night camping. The next few days was just so interesting; I can’t really remember a thing we did, but we were doing them, I know.

There are seals not in this photograph. Skilled.

Hanging out was wonderful in the most ridiculous way; I’ve always thought she was incredible but actually spending a significant period of time with her has made me realise how right I was. I feel quite liberated around her, and everything is just…good. Was so sad to see her leave but I’ll be heading back home soon enough for the Tool concert so we can catch up then. She read her way through Catcher during the weekend and we just talked and talked. It killed me, it really did.

This is seeming a sort of pointless blog entry, I know, but I guess the core is that there were moments that weekend where I was just so happy. As Holden says (not verbatim); it was real right then. As it turns out, by some weird twist of fate, she’s one of my oldest friends now. Makes me wish I was home though. I could fly home tomorrow. I wish.

Since this is going nowhere, and I’m totally exhausted, here’s something I wrote the other day for you guys to muse on, if you feel like it. It’s the closest thing to poetry that I’m capable of.

Every man has it within himself
to be born privileged
Perhaps not with a silver spoon
in his mouth, but
with a song and a fire in his heart
that as long as he
wishes it, shall never be extinguished.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s