Wednesday, 17 April 2013


Frustration. I dreamt that I bumped into my youngest brother in the street last night...or rather,early this morning...yesterday morning...My words are so tiresome, I read back through the weeks and months,and years...finding spelling mistakes, grammar errors...kicking myself for not being even close to as intelligent as I wish to be.
The dream. Does it mean anything, it means nothing-not really. I haven't seen him in 13 years,or maybe's my other younger brothers birthday's just my subconscious playing tricks. Leading me into gloom out of habit perhaps. There are so many little boxes I cannot help but keep opening up.
Sat on the train this morning, staring out of the window. Watching the seagulls swooping ,enviously- "what could be worse than losing your children?" I thought. The perils of the commute to work without a book... "But his children aren't dead..." I have to concentrate on the shard in the distance. Change the music...breathe. Getting off at Bank I think " maybe it's easier for him having none of us, rather than just me..." And just like that...into the crowd, my mind clears. Like a bin turned upside down.
I don't know whether writing has helped me put my thoughts into some kind of order.
Or whether the sense of ...harmony(?) I have is due to experience...age...or this overwhelming sense that nothing actually has any real meaning-any use. We try to find importance in everything.
I can't quite fathom it. The more that I read the news,...or just walk down the people's faces. I do not become desensitised to the gore that we create as people. It gets worse. Hurts deeper. I feel this helpless tension grip my muscles. As though there is something I must do.
I was 8 when my first younger brother was born. He was around 8 when I last saw him. Funny the way the world works. Funny the things we cannot change- the things that make no sense.

Tonight's film, Blue Valentine.

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