over time forces counter poise duel realities re-emergent white noise
physical brain mass left and right a lobe for reconciling a cell chain for fright
passing flights dream swarms in consequent, self cancelling again to be congruent
over time one learns to pare down clown with meaning lest me be thrown to drown
see there the spaces between thoughts unspoken shades just off material clean
inner perambulations amongst the roots of things uncomfortable conscience pricks in ghostly rings
now here be the rub up against one's happy outward norm our past misdeeds be shadowed inner wraith form
gyrations blindly made to simply overlook indiscretions smaller than any ignorant crook
flummoxed by the wilful bedazzled smothering guilts fester nightmares light touches a'pothering
over time thoughts rotten milk white grows pallid skin against bone all insulation lost tween proximate foes
right over papered bedimmed illusions painted dark we do well to our left besired babble hark
contemplated past hauntings emerge into daylights dazzle revealed as misbegotten naive frazzle
even crimes proper have with times whipping atoned guilt's vitriol by causes understood age has condoned
silky smooth becomes febrile memory raw insensitive now to recalls digging claw shiny without flaw
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
A start in mind
Overview:
An attempt to narrate a cycle tour for three months from Paris to Dakar with my best friend Sheila with whom I will share most things. How to facilitate and enhance the emotions and inner life that we will both enjoy in the heightened atmosphere of free time overseas without constraint of family or means, while burning along on our lightly laden velos.
Preconceptions
Some things befall my waking mind in the wee hours, seeing the travel plans as I do this time through the eyes of a female partner on the road:
how much male hutzpa is being revealed as I encourage the cleaning of bicycles?
or suggest the perfect positioning of two bebaggaged bikes when parked against a lamp post?
or struggle with imparting what's obvious to me but still mystery to the significant other until it all actually happens.
Reliant as I'm on the well timed riposte should I err on the side of chauvinism, it's the urge to save us both from some well imagined disaster that keeps me extolling the nerdish.
Things like knowing where in four stuffed panniers everything is roughly. Years of cycling overseas makes for unfashionable solutions. Labels and pack from bottom to top the same way every time. Then the advantages become clear, one can lean the bike against soft bedding rather than bust the technology, or when the sudden alpine freezing rain catches one, the raincoat lies close to hand in the outside pannier. Simple consistencies form a comfortable backing board for the glorious and excitingly unfamiliar which is after all why one packs at all.
This of course may be pedantic anathema to my travel companion who is sure to want to let go of the very ideal of tidy. How else to enjoy time off? And then there's the mobile shoe cupboard which will be needed after Milan's seduction of the feminine foot. Dilemmas which have never been a part of my previous solo touring.
On the upside my companion who has excellent taste and a fine understanding as regards cuisine will be introducing us both to the rarer aspects of gastronomie and forming no doubt a subtle cornucopia out of nothing to grace our previously spartan metal cups.
Love will be amongst us both in all it's varied selves and the gasps at daily wonders will be simultaneous and feed our memories for years to come.
An attempt to narrate a cycle tour for three months from Paris to Dakar with my best friend Sheila with whom I will share most things. How to facilitate and enhance the emotions and inner life that we will both enjoy in the heightened atmosphere of free time overseas without constraint of family or means, while burning along on our lightly laden velos.
Some things befall my waking mind in the wee hours, seeing the travel plans as I do this time through the eyes of a female partner on the road:
how much male hutzpa is being revealed as I encourage the cleaning of bicycles?
or suggest the perfect positioning of two bebaggaged bikes when parked against a lamp post?
or struggle with imparting what's obvious to me but still mystery to the significant other until it all actually happens.
Reliant as I'm on the well timed riposte should I err on the side of chauvinism, it's the urge to save us both from some well imagined disaster that keeps me extolling the nerdish.
Things like knowing where in four stuffed panniers everything is roughly. Years of cycling overseas makes for unfashionable solutions. Labels and pack from bottom to top the same way every time. Then the advantages become clear, one can lean the bike against soft bedding rather than bust the technology, or when the sudden alpine freezing rain catches one, the raincoat lies close to hand in the outside pannier. Simple consistencies form a comfortable backing board for the glorious and excitingly unfamiliar which is after all why one packs at all.
This of course may be pedantic anathema to my travel companion who is sure to want to let go of the very ideal of tidy. How else to enjoy time off? And then there's the mobile shoe cupboard which will be needed after Milan's seduction of the feminine foot. Dilemmas which have never been a part of my previous solo touring.
On the upside my companion who has excellent taste and a fine understanding as regards cuisine will be introducing us both to the rarer aspects of gastronomie and forming no doubt a subtle cornucopia out of nothing to grace our previously spartan metal cups.
Love will be amongst us both in all it's varied selves and the gasps at daily wonders will be simultaneous and feed our memories for years to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)