a beautiful revolution: blog

Humdrum: Lonely

I really miss my ex girlfriends - even the ones that eventually wished me harm.

My therapist thinks I'm masochistic.

She is wrong

I am not a masochist - I am just an incredibly lonely person who is finally ready to let bygones be bygones.

Humdrum: Arithmetic

The lady in charge of my local £1 shop is rubbish at arithmetic.

Today, I went to her shop and bought a pack of 10 marker-pens for 99p?

The fear

'One day the sweet baby Jesus will return to this earth and take me to heaven,' she said.

'What about me?' I asked.

She just shook her head and looked mournfully at the floor.

I laughed; because I thought she was joking. But she wasn't joking - she was deadly serious.

I shall never forget the day she put the fear of God into me.

Tarnished

Today my Mother said, and I quote: you're a lovely person, you really are, but I think it's high time you finally accepted the fact that a complicated boy such as yourself is never going to attract a 'normal girlfriend'  ... why don't you give that pink anti-war activist with the furry hat a second chance?

My own Mother.

I am inconsolable.

Safe

I want to buy a book - The Curse Of Lono - but before I buy it, I want to have a little look inside it. After all, it is £29.99 and a book of such costs needs more than a moments consideration. Unfortunately the book in question is sealed - wrapped in a cling-film safety-blanket.

If I had written this post three weeks ago I would have used it's cling-film safety-blanket as a metaphor for my own life. I would have expressed the frustration I feel towards the safeness of my own world - the way my blog, with it's one-trick-pony theme keeps me safe - keeps my stats steady and my virtual popularity undiminished. The way my internet world keeps me safe from the scary people that live outside my door. The way my weekly visits to the psychotherapist have become routine, comfortable, safe - 'I'm depressed ... I can't do that'. The way my main income comes from the pictures I sell via my picture libraries and so the drive and ambition needed to do 'real world' photography is un-required. I would have suggested that the books cling-film safety-blanket may keep it safe - may save it from undoable harm - but it also keeps it stuck in Waterstones prison. Three weeks ago, I would have suggested all of this - but it's not three weeks ago, it is today, and I no-longer write such things.

I want to buy a book -  but before I buy it, I want to have a little look inside.

Oh no not I

A heart dropped from my wallet today and landed silently onto the cold, unforgiving, grey pavement below.

The heart - a small piece of rustic metal no bigger than a £2 coin, was recently given to me by a ghost from my past.

I stood there, outside the Waterstone's bookshop looking at the rustic heart and contemplated my options: Should I pick it up, place it back in my wallet  or should I leave it be, let someone else find it.

I decided to leave it be.

It is time to move on.