Police

There was a phonecall from who was supposedly a police officer, warning, politely to stay away. So i did, have and will..............

NeverLand

Nothing is the same. Everything is different and that difference is a little disturbing. It is not a good frame of mind as the tears of a clown spring, dancing merrily through my active yet subdued mind. A man of contrary I am indeed. All is not well in the garden of My Nobody but at least its a garden, cloud with a silver lining kind of viewpoint.

I miss her eternally and I am not sure how anyone or anything is ever going to fill the hole she has left gaping in my life. Crying at hollyoaks at teatime and sitting in the rain under the garden tea lights at three, stars everywhere, flies nipping at my tears are not good places to be. Free flowing and energising yet filled with the sorrow of yesterday.

There have been so few that I have been in love with out of so many I have loved but out of all of them she was the one and its that singular fact that haunts and torments me daily and I can't seem to shake it. I sometimes manage two days thinking that everything is best but mostly i barely manage to make it past two hours. Her name resonating in my head, her smile atomically burned into my mind. Her voice carried in the wind and her smell, randomly and strangely stopping me in my tracks. I miss her more than the pain can be explained.
I am sure I am not alone in my misery and for all of her smiles, her candy smiles underneath lie the tears of a clown. I miss Pippy as intensely as her, the package seemingly wrapped in diamonte and shrouded in stardust. I miss my Wendy in my neverland kind of life.

Mr Nobody is for one night only Peter Pan, the boy that never grew up and learned not to play with love as you will only end up covered in fairy dust.

Hollyoaks

I found myself crying during Hollyoaks, in all fairness it was an emotional episode, but still, it is a very bad sign especially with a full restaurant about to pile in expecting food i wish i were not cooking.

Tundra

Tundra filled the cold room - the breeze icy and arctic a welcome contrast to the heat of the kitchen. The sun is fighting for existence, poking, hinting and then retreating... and still the drums roll and tundra hurtles through like an S&M roller coaster - studded and coarse, a sledgehammer to the senses.
It soothes, calms and clears the mind eventually becoming part of my soul. The windows rattle, the bottles shake and Archie is scared, ears twittering and tail nervously jigging.
It seven minutes of eary madness leaving me breathless and every time - a thousand more since nineteen seventy seven - leaving me wanting more.

Skag Knife

She pulled out her skag knife. It glinted, it appalled, it looked dirty and I longed for a closer look but it was gone as quickly as it became and once more i continue to look for the touch of the filthy skag knife.

Cats

Do cats like bad people?
Do they just like everybody that treats them well?
Are cats just like himans?
Or are humans just like cats?

London

I watched London leave through the dirty coach windows and all I could think about was her. A restaurant we loved yet failed to return to since. The cravings for nicotine, tea and sex and those mornings of love seem like some other time. Somebody Else's other time.

A few seats forward the shadow of a man lurches violently with a cough that is a pleasant reminder I should smoke less and less reds. It would irritate me but I felt sorry for him and wished I had some water. A bad cough is a terrible thing. Irritation came from the Saville Row suited kid or hormone deficient man sat to my immediate right. Tapping into his phone with an annoying repetition of a man who has to be doing something. Music too loud floating into the fan-assisted silence, I even heard our song but that is becoming standard these days. Almost like a ticking time bomb. A Japanese couple sleep on each other, curled up in the way only couples can on a coach and it made me realise that we had never had a chance to leave this filthy city, we had never made time. Bubble love. London is.
It seems a shame one city, one moment in time defined us. Sad.

London speeds by and sooner at this time of night rather than later it is Hillingdon - a pit stop, a a benchmark, a landmark to a better place. Soon it is the motorway and soon it is home. Though I cant help but feel, cliched as it is, that home is where the heart is. A basement flat in Peckham of all places, somebody elses home as it always has been.

I miss acting on a heartbeat.
I do miss being me.
I think one day I may find myself again but until then i shall remain Mr Nobody.

Mariah

Mariah, mariah, you set my heart on fire little alice lost in wonderland you are.

Interpol

I listened to the back catalogue of Interpol whilst staring out into the grey of a season that just sits between February and April. The lost season of greys and winds, rain and a cold that is not quite winter. The lost season of secrets, recoil and hibernation. The surreptitious season.
It has been a day of organisation, meddling, tinkering and amusement, as ever, at the antics of others and the backbone that life seems to rip out of the majority - that fear, intricately consuming the conscious mind. So many closed minds and empty souls trapped in a purgatory of their own creation. Desires and needs suppressed by the conformity of the masses - blinded by the destination and oblivious to the journey.
Interpol are a fitting soundtrack to a day I find myself wishing for her to complete my jigsaw and free me from this purgatory of my own creation.

Kumquat

I was supposed to be writing but was distracted by the array of infused oils, local cheeses and Moroccan spices being delivered to my kitchen. A fine way to wake, stumbling into an Aladdin's cave of produce, dripping with sea water, covered in dirt and smelling of a thousand great things but so many fuckin boxes to open.

I spoke to "her" yesterday, the cats mother, about Pippy and when she should come and live with me. It was a point which faded to the background. It was our first conversation in months but our first real one this year, last year we were so much more than the little we were today, but that little was good. I left a part of my heart and soul in a basement flat in peckham with Pippy on guard protecting the parts I need to love again. I feel cold without them. I feel like a clown with frozen tears - stored for another day/week/another time maybe.
I stare into the skin of a Kumquat trying to work out if I can really do without Star Anise and wondering if i will ever be the same again.