Your Whisky Face

Take your whisky face and smile with me as we take this sandy path. Unknown in its projection, the sun beats down on the path. “You are my boy,” he said to the man. The light of the sky shining down to your feet. Puddles of light cast adventure at every turn. This was something to be in awe of. This was something.

Take your whisky face and dance with me now as we stumble our feet forward and glide our arms out. We’re flying. We really are and its unbelievable but I knew how to believe. This was your whisky face as our bodies contort in dance.

Sentiment Value of Envelopes

Its time to change. New starts and fresh beginnings. I need to clear out my life of the clutter that seems to collect itself over the years. I keep everything in some attempt to hold on to their sentimental value. I guess it is like the thought that everything is important. I keep finding the most stupid things that to someone else would be a scrap of paper with a line on it but to me it is actually so much more. It is the time when that person first showed me how to see potential or the time when I found a bit of paper that reminded me of the contour of his face.
I have a thousand trees worth of paper and information sitting waiting to have something done with it. I need to chuck a load of it out. I need to reduce it by 90% at the least. What could I possibly have that requires so much paper documents? I need to seriously look through it all and reduce it into something so small it could fit in a backpack.
Same with the sentimental stuff. I need to reduce that too. I might have to make a book of all the little objects I have attributed value to.
Sentimental value tax. SVT. It is the requirement by logistics that states you need to attribute so much space to each object of sentimental value. Yes This in my case directly means I have no space as I have so much sentimental valued items. I shall reduce.
Ebay will see an influx of my life for redistribution.  It will be the sentimental objects with the story behind them placed in a box or some packaging of some sort. This packaging shall be important too. “Why?” I hear you ask, well… I also own a thousand rolls of paper and tape. Not to mention envelopes. There is something really amazing about an envelope. It is the container or letters. Paper with words. Sometimes hand written and other times computer generated. These little snippets of information pressed into an envelope and sent on a journey. The envelope isn’t so different from a human. Envelopes all start out as envelopes. Humans all start out as humans.
When purchased in bulk, the envelope is in a protective environment.  When required it is then removed from the protective environment that it was bought in and sent on its own unique journey. It has a purpose even if it doesn’t know it. As it gets sent on its journey it ages with every bump and brush with real life until eventually it reaches the last stages of its own mortality. It has served its purpose and is ripped open to reveal its worth. Only in it’s own death is the purpose revealed. Perhaps not achieving dramatic change to the greater public but occasionally giving great joy and worth. The humble envelope sitting defenceless on your doormat. Perhaps this image is something as to why I haven’t ever sent letters in the collection of envelopes placed gently on my shelf. They sit their appreciated for their worth and their potential.
This is why I need to redistribute their value. There is only so much space and so many envelopes that can sit gently on my shelf. I will keep one though. Maybe two as an emergency should I need to send one on a journey.  

Clear out

So I'm in the process of clearing out my room... I have everything I own in this room. I want to sell it all. I want a fresh start a new me a new progression with the same dreams but different goals. A new outlook. I want to be creative and be respected and paid for it. I will be paid for something I love doing. I make plans and I create dreams.

It was the 7th anniversary of my kidney transplant on the 11th of July. It was my graduation on the 20th June. It’ll be my 24th birthday in October and I need to move out of this flat on the 11th Aug. These dates are all important but I feel stuck in them. I feel stuck in time or something like that. I hate having to be constrained. I hate money.

I take 9 tablets every day. I will take tablets every day for the rest of my life. I take some comfort in the routine but feel disheartened by the constraint, not to mention the ‘what ifs?’ humm... I am in a bit of a wondering mind which is totally why I need this clear out.

I have too many things and I want to get rid of them to the best I can. I have a lot of materials. I have a stack of paper higher than myself and a stack of books even higher. I own pens of all varieties in all colours. I own sculpting materials, several cameras both still and video, analogue and digital. I have two DVD players identical to each other. I own an impressive collection of bags of differing design. I also have a mountain of washing that seems endless.

I need to have a few choice things. I want a file full of artworks and documents. A store of paper and inks with which I can easily find what I'm looking for and create publications with ease. I want a bookcase full of inspiration. A wall of photographs and an amazing camera to take them with. A portable life. Most of all I want the journey through my comfort zone. I want to know where I begin and where I end. How hot is too hot and how random is too random?

The world is waiting for me I just need to clear a path. Yes. That is what I shall do. I am going on an adventure along the path I clear. Want to come and join me?



I need to write more.

A text for later

I hear a silence in your voice. The mutterings of eloquence. Take my hand as we walk the path towards the garden shed. She always arranged those tall flowers with the white of the cotton table cloth. The delicate red and the clean white. The table was always set for four and now sits idle in a state of disarray. The soup spoon slightly a squint to the place mat where her name once lay. I can still smell her perfume in the air as if she had just brushed by, perhaps on the way to fetch the baking we loved to eat warm.

A crisp glass of apple juice sits half drank on the table. There is not a need for children at a time like this. The children know this too. The feeling of her hand warm as it holds tight to yours. She was never with out a tissue at a time like this. They do that you know, they keep a special supply.  

Bebo text

Hello world.

I’m in an exciting place right now. About to set off on an adventure and take on the world. I create my world and I’ll create myself within that world too. It isn’t a dream and it isn’t a wish. It is a reality.  It’s becoming more and more real every day. I wanted to tell you something the other day. It wasn’t important but I wanted to tell you all the same. I once had a moment with a boy and it hasn’t left my thoughts yet. I sold that boy a thought once and he will forever more be the keeper of it. I enjoy that fact.  

I’ll be a dreamer forever more. I will make things happen from these dreams, even if it is only a fraction that skims across the surface of my thoughts, I will make them happen.

Most importantly I will be happy and I will be living. Today. Tomorrow. Yesterday.

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