...from Red Book...

It is often hard to understand the weight of layers that make up our world. Isn’t it? Is it? Sitting where I now sit- The Refectory- looking across to The Infirmary through large plates of glass I see real beauty. Beauty that is real to me. Now. (then) Juxtaposition of society, miniature in this city- physically apparent to me through this simple act; looking. Chairs and tables, ordered, ordered. Advertising in wrecked angles. Instructions for states of emergency- only fire or failure of health- not love, confrontation or mind-bending spine snapping confusion. The darkness falling turns the sky blue thick light to full electric. Squared yellow in buildings over the way. Paving. Vegetation. That one poor tree near me- all a sapling alone. Fiery leaves. Only five remain, trembling. Hold on to living sticks. Oh, closer still the potted plant- glaring small atrocity, impossibly green. All dancing fluorescent.

Reflections. Those large glass plates. Those windows. Those lettings of sight. I look out upon all without through all with-shimmering-in. I look up, yep- there I am! Glancing back. Definitely look arty, casually wrapped scarf, intensely scribbling. Ooh, am I cast academic? Me at a wobbly modernist table thinking aloud. Modern life. But no different I am sure to any other modern life ever lived. We are eternally modern. Maybe just a new word for Now. Wow.

Watching. Writing. Thinking. Thinkety think think go I.

I’m sick from the morning after pill. £24. Over the counter (1,2,3,4,5,6…) with a whispered public explanation of vomiting nausea and headaches. Hmmm! Yes please! Chemicals rally my body into rejection and I thrill to the notion that I’m part of something bloodily real, blundering love- soon to cease. You see, I know, he’s just no good for me…

We’re surrounded, packed in, pushed out, beaten down, carted around by- stuff things this that do don’t have have not you her him bright light. Buy. Be. Biff. Baff. Bludgeon. It’s all Too Much. But- hey- it’s all going to be ok.

All that you do is die.

Steeped in so much water,

So stagnant and so still.

I think I hear you laughing

Though I know I never will.

Across the busy days and carefully managed nights

I see you walk ahead of me- but too soon you’re out of sight.