Journal

I HAD GONE TO PACMARHI IN THE MONTH OF NOV 2007 FOR SOME OFFICIAL WORK.PACHMARHI IS A HILL STATION SETTLED AT A HEIGHT OF ABOUT THREE THOUSAND FEET FROM THE SEA LEVEL AND IS SURROUNDED BY

So said the barwoman of the hotel terrace bar. We we looking down on the church, at a green laser light playing on the ground. It was nothing really, like something a kid would have.

Cutting down the dosage transports terrifying fears.
As of those in my childhood when my father insisted I cycle without stabilizers.
Stability.
It's never been my forte.

The 4th floor staircase,
how could I forget?
Like the colour on a butterflies wings,
it's significance is ever present.
We would Meet there every time the first bell rung

The resentment I bear for where you chose to lay your hat seems ludicrously irrational.
I found you that place with all its attachments
and squalor, all part of the package.

The clock just chimed midnight.
There are eleven Royals left.
That's a re-assuring thought.

As soon as the whoosh of the double doors closed behind me the realisation hit that following the red ‘A’ channel was the wrong option.

Maybe it's because I wish too hard.
"Don't seek love,it will find you when you least expect it," they say.
What about if I spend my life expecting it?
Will it never come?

It’s an open office discussion
What would you do if you knew you were going to die?

Dean insisted wherever he was at midday he dropped his trousers to get some air.

Working my fingers to the bone to line the tax man's pocket.
I figured it would ease the agony of my acute demoralisazion.
However,just the realisation that I take myself wherever I go.

When time took it all away,
we only had a jar of grasshopper wings left.

~1999, Grasshopper racing~

Dear J.C,

Winter told me that lies is what froze the snow;
the ocean told me that it was greed that made it raging.
I couldnt agree more.
Roses wither and so do souls.

Trust is verging on a nervous breakdown.
Heading towards extinction like a rare breed of lovebirds.
Lies, not of the white kind.
Eyes,no longer my kind.
Do you believe that I could digest it?

You keep me guessing day by day or am I just extreme?
Is it I who tempts these metaphors to be ruled by my emotions?
Is it I that causes heartache for my self with such devotion?

Sometimes I feel that life is not in simply black and white,
that there is no good or evil, and there is no dark or light.
It seems to me that all of it's a subtle shade of grey,

In such a modern society,
Its always a pleasure to enjoy both nature and the city;
literally,
Fishing For Catfish In The City's Drain.

I try and write every day although this is not always possible.

Ladies in 18th Century Gowns, holding onto extravagant gold plated masks,
shielding their faces from the glaring lights.
Dramatic crimson red curtains flow down covering the stage,

This is for a the girl i saw today, fold your own paper crane and then make it fly. Your the wind i'm the DandelionSeeds.

love,
J.L.C