Well now, that's what I call a hiatus...

Good grief, a dusty old canvas in the corner of my shambles of a webspace.

Folks, there a re numerous reasons to complain at the moment, and fewer reasons to celebrate. However, I endeavour to grasp the full value of those good aspects, so that they outweigh the grey.

I could tell you all about my lack of work, lack of a wage, lack of direction, lack of love, lack of joy, lack of faith, lack of positivity, lack of youthfulnesss, lack of adventure and I could spin webs of self-centred melancholy until I was blue in the face.

What would it be worth though? All those things are just the facts at the moment. They are rubbish, difficult, saddening facts, but facts they are, and as such they cannot be exchanged for a delightful, fictional existence. This sense of constant foreboding is the natural way for the moment...

Fortunately though, loves, we have that great, glorious invention of sound that so enlivens the blackness all around me. Conversation is the pulse. Music is the layers, the pictures and colours. I listen to "The Fireman" and I see everything I aspire to. Seasick Steve does my reflection for me, be tells me bout my own worries and how they pale in comparison to everything else out there. I gt on thephone, get out into the air and speak to folks andd I remember the true value of thinsg as they are, full of hope, bburioied undder a crust of rust.

It is difficult, particularly on these very quiet nights, to remember to listen; but when I do, I am encouraged despite myself, despite the truth of things, despite the apparently compulsary search for money. With sound I am justified to myself.

Savvy? Goodnight, then.

The deep breath inwards...

... keeps me grinning, even after 4 hours of sleep and all the shrouds of darkness and sadness and idiocy all around everything. I know that there is potential in everything an everyone, and it makes me smile like a fool.

That's not to say it kills all of he problems - they sit there, stubborn, moving for no-one, and we have to tiptoe around them and clamber over the tops of their massive frames. Somewhere though, amongst all this, there is a feeling of positivity - An aura of inexorable change up ahead. Emanating from deep within the canyons under the problems is the next step, slowly creeping out, ready to shake this situation to pieces and set my family on a new course.

I just need God to keep my Mum upright. All of us are suffering, but her most. She sees some days through permanent darkness, never stopping to relax, always working to keep on top of all of the responsibilities and fears she's now lumped with. She's so string, but she certainly doest feel it. She's battered but not beaten, and I need her to feel encouraged until the change comes.

The loneliness is the worst part, easily. It kills us all. I'm one to suffer it quite badly, but I inherited that want for contact with people from Mum. She aspires only to share life with those around her, and now the nights are impossible.

I love her, and I want to be there for her all the time, but it isn't the same.



'tonm. xx

Book of the Moment: Anything with beauty in its words, I suppose.

Song of the Moment: "Blind" by Reana

I am not too humble to tell you that I can't do this alone.

I'm not having a faith crisis. I think it's more of a confused daze.

Do you know the sensation you experience when you're struck across the head? Like, a real blow to the temple, thrown to the ground job? Well, when you try to open your eyes, there are flickering lights covering everything you see and a sharp hum rings in your ears, as if your senses are trying to reconfigure themselves after a risky pull-the-plug-from-the-back reboot procedure.

I'm there. I pray and believe it's heard, but I can't see any results because of everything imparing my view of what should be. That sounds too confusing;

I can't see anything working. I know it is, but I can't see it, because of the shock. There, that's it.

I know that things will change eventually - Note, I use the term change, because "get better" is not a guarantee. At some point, near or far, there will be a new spark, a new thing to either clear away some of the concussion or strike me once again. I know we are saveable. (That's probably a word...) We-Me-My Family-can be saved, pulled up out of the dark place and set on the ground once again, with the blue skies above us and the fresh air pouring into our lungs.

The thing is, it's really scary here, now, waiting for that. I trust it'll happen; I just bloody wish I knew what form it's going to take.


'tonm.
xxx

Book of the Moment: n/a

Song of the Moment: "Dance" by Robbie Seay Band