all the things

+
yes, rain. rain indeed. more. [i grab my jacket and walk out.
there's no better way to avoid the 400 pages of reading that are absurdly required


+ x
- so i told you a secret, ___now you tell me one.
- that's difficult - no - listen, listen - it's difficult because i don't have a lot of secrets, i blab too much.
- fine, so tell me something.

i really take a few moments to think. i want to give her something real, and intimate. something deep. it's a test, i want to see if she can recognise what i'm giving her.

- sometimes, when i can't sleep, when i'm sad, if i've had a long day, other times just sitting with a friend and discussing things, i like to drink. ___bourbon... ___and that's a big deal for me. it's not something i'm comfortable with. it's not who i've ever been before, but it's someone i am currently. and i'm terrified of where it could lead, and why it's even a thing, but... well. there you have it. it's like a relationship with a dangerous woman - but a dangerous woman who's been nothing but sweet and loving to you, so you have no reason not to trust her, but still you don't. because as long as you're good to her, she'll be good to you, but you know deep down you're a bit of a prick and you're scared you'll be mean to her and then, if you do that - if you make that mistake - she'll tear you limb from limb and smile with your blood running down her chin. and i know she has that in her and i have some sabotage in me.

she doesn't really get it. ___which makes me sad. it was that age old risk: sentimental gift or something easy from Tiffany's. i guess she wanted the blue-bag.


+
i find settling in to new places difficult. this is all there is to it. i'm not good at it.

so it's no biggie. it's just the pattern. round we go again. always around, always again.

just what it is.


x +
it was , it was - that was the night you fell asleep in my chest mid-sentence, 
that's what she says,
___i want to say: i love hearing your voice and i miss you and i'm terrified by both those things.

i want to say it but i'm too busy laughing about how that night - in our excitement and fatigue - we booked tickets to the Book of Mormon in New York instead of London. we laugh loudly.

outside it is dark and it rains. and my room is cosy. and i miss intimacy.

it used to be like this.

it used to be like this, __then of course, it wasn't. __but then, of course, it was again.

__(3am, sitting in my car in the driveway with the engine on - too scared to turn it off and be engulfed in the silence, in the sadness that would come with it [the fact of]:

__the spectacle is over q. the glitter, the nonsense talk. __and you are alone, again. 
__always again. 
____and it is because you are not enough. never will be enough, and no one even notices you are gone. 

)


___*___*___*

i tell my stories, and make my jokes. eyes occasionally darting from side to side to appraise who's where. planning sequences. it's true i'm not as smooth as i once was, but with practice it'll come back to me. (something i've said has gotten a laugh). hey guys, let's sit for a bit shall we? this is a transition, i know there's only one available seat, a high-chair between two attractive women on which i'd have to perch. the transition is seamless, i move into a new conversation, they're left hanging around. the girl to the left likes me and touches me frequently. the girl to the right departs - women can sense these things. a male friend of mine takes her chair (men cannot sense these things). later he says 'i think we've got a good connection, can you not go for her?'. i take a moment to think about this, i don't usually indulge this stuff, but he's a sweet guy. you know, ultimately it has nothing to do with us. women do the choosing and they choose for themselves and they choose early and there's nothing one way or another you can do to persuade a woman after she's made her choice. ___i'll make myself scarce, but... this is an exception. ___i mean it, i don't usually do this. i doubt he understands how serious i am. anyway, the girl doesn't know me. she can't like me. she calls me by the name that only acquaintances use nowadays.

[life is defined by moments. there are moments wherein truth is frozen. available for re-examination after re-examination, displayed endlessly for the rest of your life.

we had only been speaking for 5 minutes, she'd asked twice where i'd lived, which i couldn't see the relevance of - to our conversation about Nina Simone - so kept evading a clear answer. finally she took my hand and started walking out. she stopped in front of her friend, 'can i grab my keys'. the friend gave me a looking over and was not approving. she handed over the keys. it occurred to me what was happening. i wasn't sure how i felt, what i wanted. if i do, i'll feel so lonely and if i don't i'll feel so lonely.

it's become one of those moments: that moment of understanding that i'm doomed to the loneliness of it. ]


___*___*___*

again, i've misplaced it again.
lost it again.

back to the beginnings ,
rebuilding from grits of sand.


___*___*___*

the insecurities are killing me. if you want it straight, there it is. 31 year old, oxford graduate law student, works wonders in the peripheries of the room. and feels like little more than a barnacle, attached to the bottom of the rowboat, humming aquatic chants to amuse the cool kids in the boat, who don't hear him, or know him, or care one way or the other whether he clings on or doesn't.

i had forgotten this feeling. i have not missed it.

here it comes: 2:57am. the knife's-edge of 3am. razor sharp, merciless.

the less you find of me in the morning, the better.