Birthday blues noir

 

There are times when Jörn and I are apart for long lengths of time ….that I …. I miss Jörn so much….that I print out his picture to feel as though he is with me, conjured ….because being so far from him hurts now in a physical way I cannot bear

but, you seee….you know, I never can admit it to myself….I stand in front of the mirror and I just see ….reflect….reflection….in reverse; so there is Electra….who is what….’he is going to hurt you,’ I say this out loud to that celf….looking back at me. we never say ….aloud just what the celves hide ….’they always do….and why do you let them….? don’t let them in….’ 

and so I have that Celf to blame for needing to; like a shard in a broken mirror glass; one Celf within so many others….this one contains the most sacred emotions that can only survive under lock and key….in a secret vault in a cave hidden by a forest

Thoughts caught in legend keys in electra’s dictionary

 

If I could be anywhere right now, where would I be….

I stop as I write this and wistfully reach out from my inner scope and ….wonder. What about right now? I suppose here is where I am and there are such worse places to be. I have known of some of those. I ask that infinite elusive mind ….out there….why is it so much harder now to read the world news when it seems to summon up the faith has become another sort of elusive.

I think about Jörn and his work, and I think, even to him, it has become just work but….not just….

anymore 

The youth are angry at their elders. They blame them for the current state of the world. Inundated with plastic waste and spoiled resources running thin; like the air they took for granted 

and then take their anger out on anyone older than 28 when they face off from the vantage of their jobs which gives them the power to steal them blind and know how to get away with it

Oh dear, Electra ….what is it for 

If I could be anywhere right now it would be ….in a lovely garden that kept the fury of the world out …. would you come with me there? would you enter my sanctuary where we can forget malice and spite, the wars, the economy and that yawning promise of doom….would you enter my garden ….push down my walls and erect a pillar to stake and claim its safety….?

 

she was born on a Monday, four minutes to 8 o’clock and they called her dawn

2 weeks later

Up until then she was just called ‘Baby girl’; her mother had been expecting a boy named David. 

The last name was even harder to decide and the birth certificate was late being sent

 I think too that I was trying to find something real, quelqu'un, qui serait là. pour moi. I think I just had to wake up eventually and that is why it hurts so much

 I suppose this is why I am feeling so lost and disillusioned ….

rose glass dome

 

All day locked in thought. Thoughts. And look upon the steps and roads, how they link and seem to go somewhere if seen from altered points of view, and yet go nowhere just the same, but even nowhere is somewhere. Isn’t it

well I don’t know 

   but it has to be a somewhere 

and how I mean this is, in relation to that realization of, those things in life I once thought I had wanted

   I’d been on paths 

they took me somewhere 

but then I wound up nowhere 

anyway ….and I wonder, would it have mattered if I’d just stood still

didn’t go anywhere, if I stayed right where I started 

it has been this sprint through life

of wasted time; wasting time 

but I’d not have known unless I tried it so…. was it wasted? ….well…. sometimes I think so 

even as I know, it would have driven me mad to not have known had I not tried 

   those roads 

that wanderlust in me

I was so restless …. I never could stand still …. I couldn’t stand it, standing still…. wherever did it get me 

but I know I would not want to go back to most of the places I ran away from —all the places I ran from, I don’t regret leaving where I ran from yet, there remains one place I left that I did not want to go, never wanted to leave —yet I never could go back to

I think there is an uneasiness inside me, I imagine it was because I’d been uprooted before I understood where I’d been born and adapted another country’s ways that was never meant to be mine. And I look at this world with its wars. And the peoples who flee. Refugees, homeless and cast out or —killed 

I don’t understand this human experience. This kind of ownership of a land. 

we are all people. And everyone is walled up

I don’t understand

I am disappointed, I guess. Those peaceful people ….now seem so prejudice to me….no little China? No little Italy? Says one place. Fighting Hitlers and killing for false claims for a new evil painted another shade of white but black or white or red or yellow, I can’t even eat meat, so what is wrong with me?—clearly I don’t belong here, I am the little prince with my rose in delusions

I guess this is why I say I don’t like people, nobody is willing to tolerate, they only impose and dictate and listen to themselves and agree with their own echoes