Monday, January 4, 2010
blurry lines
1:45am
(Written Monday January 4)
The line between 2009 and 2010 for me was a blurred one. I worked that night, and the next three. I was very very drunk - and had a teeny tiny amount of speed in my system. So on what level the line was blurred, I'll leave at that.
I have started writing a few pages down from the next blank page in my diary because I feel like starting a diary fresh for this year; however a new journal is something I presently don't possess. And perhaps having new pages, that have only once but sufficient to seep, shared the cover of my last few years with inked pages - perhaps that is more fitting than memoryless paper.
I went for a walk tonight. I got home from work and walked. I found myself sitting on the sand in the middle of an almost empty Bondi, under a sky inked in night and half illuminated by the seeming endlessness that cloud cover lends to light noise. I could have almost reached up and drawn a line in the heavens. Two sides of our heavenly reality somehow made clearer and more interesting for having each other. Almost perfect half light, half dark. Read into that or not.
So I found myself, crying isn't the right word: breathing, heaving, gasping, tearing, tear-ing, weeping, sobbing and releasing. At this magnificent, terrifyingly interesting sky. Talking too. Regurgitating. About mum and dad, L, his new girlfriend, the divide between his actions and words. B. My own strength. Trust. And every shade of scared in between. And every shade of scarred in between.
I will admit I had B on my mind a lot. In a different way to the last few months. Like someone rounded the edges of my jagged aching.
I thought I saw him as I had found myself combusting mini sobs and heading for the sound freedom of the beach and roaring waves. But it wasn't him. I accidentally stared long enough to get the guy's attention. He asked where I was going - I said Oh I thought I recognised you. He looked similar to B, especially in the bathe of pallid beach street lights that slightly fluero the Bondi beach path. He said Here, as he then reached over the railing now between us, handed me a frangipani, and said, I've been looking for a pretty girl to give this to. Or words in a slightly different order. I can't remember exactly, as I had already started oscillating into an emotional state brought about by the uncontrolled muscle release of a rhythmic brisk stroll.
And so this random kindness by someone who looked like B; a stranger resembling the person holding my pinned to hopes and fears, left me laughing and heaving as I began my conversation, release, acknowledging catharsis to whatever you might otherwise call, God. (It is worth noting at this point I am still currently Agnostic - I like to say, searching).
I would say I have to go because I've lots to do tomorrow - and list all the things- belatedly - I want from this year. And my glorious suspicions of the hope there is to be found for 2010. But maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next day.
For now, despite the journey ahead - having that glorious hope for some brighter days in my heart, is enough.
x
(Written Monday January 4)
The line between 2009 and 2010 for me was a blurred one. I worked that night, and the next three. I was very very drunk - and had a teeny tiny amount of speed in my system. So on what level the line was blurred, I'll leave at that.
I have started writing a few pages down from the next blank page in my diary because I feel like starting a diary fresh for this year; however a new journal is something I presently don't possess. And perhaps having new pages, that have only once but sufficient to seep, shared the cover of my last few years with inked pages - perhaps that is more fitting than memoryless paper.
I went for a walk tonight. I got home from work and walked. I found myself sitting on the sand in the middle of an almost empty Bondi, under a sky inked in night and half illuminated by the seeming endlessness that cloud cover lends to light noise. I could have almost reached up and drawn a line in the heavens. Two sides of our heavenly reality somehow made clearer and more interesting for having each other. Almost perfect half light, half dark. Read into that or not.
So I found myself, crying isn't the right word: breathing, heaving, gasping, tearing, tear-ing, weeping, sobbing and releasing. At this magnificent, terrifyingly interesting sky. Talking too. Regurgitating. About mum and dad, L, his new girlfriend, the divide between his actions and words. B. My own strength. Trust. And every shade of scared in between. And every shade of scarred in between.
I will admit I had B on my mind a lot. In a different way to the last few months. Like someone rounded the edges of my jagged aching.
I thought I saw him as I had found myself combusting mini sobs and heading for the sound freedom of the beach and roaring waves. But it wasn't him. I accidentally stared long enough to get the guy's attention. He asked where I was going - I said Oh I thought I recognised you. He looked similar to B, especially in the bathe of pallid beach street lights that slightly fluero the Bondi beach path. He said Here, as he then reached over the railing now between us, handed me a frangipani, and said, I've been looking for a pretty girl to give this to. Or words in a slightly different order. I can't remember exactly, as I had already started oscillating into an emotional state brought about by the uncontrolled muscle release of a rhythmic brisk stroll.
And so this random kindness by someone who looked like B; a stranger resembling the person holding my pinned to hopes and fears, left me laughing and heaving as I began my conversation, release, acknowledging catharsis to whatever you might otherwise call, God. (It is worth noting at this point I am still currently Agnostic - I like to say, searching).
I would say I have to go because I've lots to do tomorrow - and list all the things- belatedly - I want from this year. And my glorious suspicions of the hope there is to be found for 2010. But maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next day.
For now, despite the journey ahead - having that glorious hope for some brighter days in my heart, is enough.
x
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