You’re running away aren’t you?

I’m not running away. It’ s just… I don’t know. It’s all getting to be too much for me. I feel I’m out of my depth. I’m scared I’m going to do something stupid.

And if you do something stupid, what then?

Aren’t you scared of falling?

It is sometimes a mistake to climb; it is always a mistake never even to make the attempt. If you do not climb you will not fall. This is true. But is it that bad to fail, that hard to fall?

Sometimes you wake, and sometimes, yes you die. But there is a third alternative.

And that is?

Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.

It’s amazing what you find at 3:12 in the morning while trying to conjure up the title and synopsis of the movie they make about your life in 2050.

I’m the hero of the story
Don’t need to be saved
I’m the hero of the story
Don’t need to be saved
I’m the hero of the story
Don’t need to be saved
I’m the hero of the story
Don’t need to be saved

Once this whole ‘army’ thing is over and done with i’ll get a decent camera, learn photography and basic film making/editing , while juggling driving, gigs and of course sky diving lessons on the side. Got inspired while walkin down Soho in the rain, thinking how great it’d be if I could capture the spirit of a place, or anything for that matter, in a way that’s both evocative and thought provoking.  This heady mix of Dylan and Adriana Lima helped too.

Less than two months, by the way. Corks are to be popped.

This is why I’d rather study lit, if anything at all. Never gonna hear me go ’so I was doing trigo and felt really moved by how everything changes when you look at things from a different angle’, etc etc. Always cool to unearth gems from the good ol’ 1840s too.  And yeah this wouldn’t look outta place on a page in Destiny’s book. Or a postcard from a Wake.

Cold in the earth — and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time’s all-severing wave?

 Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains, on that northern shore,
Resting their wings where heath and fern leaves cover
Thy noble heart forever, ever more?

Cold in the earth — and fifteen wild Decembers,
From those brown hills, have melted into spring;
Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!

Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,
While the world’s tide is bearing me along;
Other desires and other hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!

No later light has lightened up my heaven,
No second morn has ever shone for me;
All my life’s bliss from thy dear life was given,
All my life’s bliss is in the grave with thee.

But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.

Then did I check the tears of useless passion –
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine.

And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?

Roxette speaks the truth with striking descending pentatonics.  And in other news I just got promoted today.  It felt good I guess, but hollow at the same time? A resounding ‘awesome. that’s cool. no, really. but erm.’  And sometimes you wonder if the fight is worthwhile. The precious moments are all lost in the tide. They’re swept away and nothing is what it seems – the feeling of belonging, to your dreams.

I don’t know where I’m going.  And I don’t know why. Guitar Solo.

I am a Man.

I will laugh. I will cry. I will turn a 5km run into a 15k one with one right turn. And I won’t look back. I will fly to New York on a whim, burn all my leave and find myself in the process. I will play air guitar to wailing solos and not be ashamed. I will regard graphic novels as the highest form of literature. I will regard the Sandman as more than that.  I will become a Guitar Hero God. And I will have to pull my heart away.

Also. U2 is timeless. Special. As are we.

I know it’s coming.  I can smell it like how you can smell a cologne overdose on a man walking by. Some day, sooner than later someone who ain’t an older cousin, elder sibling, distant relative or a friend of a friend of a chum of a pal’s gonna come up to me all smiles and go ‘dude we’re getting marrieeed.’

My first reaction will be ‘er what, seriously’, and seeing their faces fall, ’sweet er congrats’.

And if you hear me going on about how old we all are these days, how things will never be the same again and how friggin weird it’ll be to see your friends walk down the aisle knowing that there’s a chapter in their lives that’s about to be written and there’s not enough ink for you..

well remember that I said it here first.

Nigel made a million wrong turns and dropped me off in the middle of Mcritchie today. So I thought, screw the bus, we’ll see where the road takes us and just started walking in the general direction of north. Thought about many things during that odd 20 min stroll with cars whizzing by spewing exhaust. And it was fun. I’m not sure if it was the toxic fumes, but I ended the saunter believing that now, at this point of time in my life, I’m finally on the cusp of something beautiful.

Less than 3 months now.  Slightly less than a year to my imminent departure to the West. And I can hardly wait.

Damn pro la, angmoh. gotta love the epic pause before the last answer, heh.