Category Archives: Asta di Pesca

finding things hidden in boxes in boxes in boxes and i can’t remember collecting most of it. did these things really happen, or were they lost in translation from then to now. now is a likely time to begin again, but how do you start doing something again when you can’t remember how you did it in the first place? when you’re not sure that it really happened at all? taking time to reflect and wonder, a splash of nostalgia and regret wash over my face, and yet i don’t feel clean. but also not dirty. no longer hidden away in the back room, but also not really putting myself out on display. for so long there was no wondering, no wandering, no listless and no profane, but should i allow that to begin again?

respect has no idea of the impact he has. the content, the satisfaction gained from respect is both limitless and unfathomable. the attraction is not unfounded, but almost disrespectful. time has no idea. time is barely himself these days and passion has gone off for a wander and is dreaming of things that might be. there are no answers to anything that respect, passion, innuendo and humour can find – just  a to do list.  respect seems to be adding more and more to the list, and passion is starting to wonder if she’s up for the challenge – probably why she is dreaming so much.

dreaming of days when time finally notices that passion is distracted, and days where respect takes more notice than he should.

taking the brunt of the discontent of others leaves me feeling like I’ve nothing left to give, nothing left to lose.

there are things in the closet that shouldn’t be there. skeletons, and too many of them, are rattling and clunking and shaking and screaming.. their screams can only be heard by the chosen one, and the one has moved on and doesn’t want to hear it any more. the one now gone, her companions have also deserted the closet, and leave us with nothing to support the main event. ethics, compassion and morals sit on the floor, waiting for desire, interest and joy to return. no one knows where they went, nor even noticed when they left. time noticed.. but he won’t let the secret slip – time is a tricky creature and has no intention of letting any one into the game he plays.

there is a clue, it’s hiding under the bed. it’s been there so long it is covered in the dust that time leaves behind. time himself left the clue, and is waiting for someone to notice. the main event is coming – compassion can feel it, ethics agrees it should be, and morals just simply believes. but when left with nothing but feelings, ideas and belief, you can still see the same old scratch marks, still bleeding under the spotlights. there is a hideous empty feeling that is gaining strength and power over us all.

power loves playing time’s game – strategy is his forte, but the question is, does strength have enough will to beat time at his own game?

living a life excluded, occluded, sanitized, demoralized left me in a black hole of self-doubt with a haze of non-recognition.

A day, a day, a day is all i ask to let me feel, let me see it is real, there is reason for being, for wanting, for knowing.

trapped, locked away, cramped into the cave and hidden away. she’s not really here. hide her in the back room so it doesn’t seem so real. like a dirty little secret hiding in the closet…

reality and fantasy and never the twain shall meet.

much like (one hopes) history and future. what’s the forecast? can’t see clearly enough to tell yet. shrug “i dunno” is all the answer i get for that.

storms are brewing though and while the first of the season was met by preventative reaction, we shall see if the warning was heeded.

reaction precludes action? or relapse? who knows? time knows. but he never tells you until it’s time.

Things and people wonder why I am what I am, and I don’t even really know the answer to that one. I leave the past behind these days, though, reading over the past, it seems I never really used to. I must have got over it somewhere along the line. I wish I knew when, it would make things easier in a way, though I wonder if it relly would. I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t know. But I know this. I know I live, I know I love, I know I care, and I know I am what I am because of the things I have been through, and the things I have been. I don’t think I want to go back anymore. I am getting to the point where I like the fact that I have moved on. I know the past is there, but it does not bother me so much anymore.

No longer do I wander listless naked and profane.
No longer do I despair over things lingering and passing.
No longer do I notice the trails of blood and scratch marks that never but always heal.

Transformation.

I morph.
I grow.
I heal.
I look.
I live.
I love.

Broach the subject of my discomfort.

Ever wonder why you feel like you’re dried up inside? Much like there’s nothing left to give, nothing there to take and nothing left to measure me by.

For god’s sake, stop acting like children, the pair of you. Stop. Breath. Talk to each other. What do you want, stop accusing each other of mortal sins, what will you compromise, what plans can you make from there?

Most of all, stop throwing you demons and fears at me and making me fight your battles. I am your child, not your marriage counsellor.

If I am going to be your marriage counsellor, then you have to follow my rules. play the game my way.

so what?
so who
so why
so where
so when
no pedestrian way
no fucking clue
no reasonable excuse
no reality check
no way out

Leaving ties unbound, a day like this makes me want to leave things behind. A habit of mine that I usually detest in myself, leaving stuff, unsaid words, unfelt emotions and worst of all, people I care about and bits of myself. Like leaving a trail of blood, these things are part of my being, bits of myself that others recognise me by.

There was damage done this time, but I’m unsure of the cause. I have ideas but no knowledge.

Of course, all this is about what is behind, not about what I have, or what is ahead.

Let myself be me. Let me find myself, allow for growth, change, flexibility – yet “plunge”.

Not the one to shy away from a challenge.

Dead people worry me.

A time where I have to keep my eyes open. Beware of the potential danger but look for opportunities for change and growth.

Back door to lie is the path you take.

9 12 15 20 39 43 25 14
The numbers haven’t come up but that’s alright. There’s other opportunities out there.

When has my life not been defined by the term “plunge”?

Where time & tide coincide.
Collate & run concurrently
sense & non-sense
past & present
this & that
Where nothing becomes something & something disappears under the spotlight.

Date Unknown [found in a .txt collection from Jan 2006]

Leaving the love behind I feel like the past is chasing me down with an axe, ready to render me unable to get away from the truth of the matter – I don’t know him well enough yet. And yet my instinct is telling me to go ahead and just do it, let it run as it is but I’m split between that and wanting to know, wanting a plan.

Losing control and letting things go means that there are things you cannot control and it seems that when you let one go, all manner of things go as well. Not by chance, but by their own design. They watch the others enjoying their freedom and demand it too. I want what you have. I want I want I want. It’s all I hear all day and yet the things I want are not listened to. Ignored, isolated, bypassed and remaining behind to watch the others go out to play. There are things I want, there are things I do not want. These things are manifest, tangible and malleable, yet the chances of them being manipulated into reality seem to diminish day by day. Yet another fell by the wayside today, and all I can do is watch it fall and whisper my own good-byes. Farewell, my sweet, I shall miss the hope you brought to my life.

like leaving things to slip away while others do their thing and i’m left wandering, wondering and pondering the things i’ve let get away, get the better of me and get left behind. leaving it all up to chance is not a happy success story all the time but it’s often the only thing i can do with a lot of these things. chance has been good to me at times, and chance will do it again someday, but lately i’ve been let down and left to battle it all alone. even chance seemed to leave me. leave me fighting to keep hold of the few things i can manage to keep up with, having to let the rest go whilst i struggle. i’ve only got so many hands, and i’m not good at juggling. tired, but somehow stronger is what i’ve become because of this.

Time is inconsequential on a day where sense and nonsense collide & intermingle with the radical & the logical. history repeats in a meaningful way which proves to me that I have moved on, ready for the next big thing. I have found that the clues left seem increasingly ambiguous enough to leave me not caring about wondering any more. What will be, will be & there will be enough to share when the time comes, so I’m not fretting about the will to live, or the lack of it. There’s more to be said, but you don’t understand this so far. Adieu.

modus operandi inclusive of the lie that i’m holding so dear, and the one that i wish was true, the one i truly want and always have, the one that is hinted at and pops up so often on the dance floor, the one that holds me makes me move to his beat, the one that makes me forget that there is music playing, the one that i want to recreate once we get home. i know those shiny disco balls want to come out to play with that red hair and this is going so far west of dangerous it’s absurd. but it’s absurd that i do best, and i know i’d do my best if only he’d let them out to play. i really need something to play with and if he doesn’t watch out, i’ll be playing with something else soon enough. it’s only a matter of time, i’m sure, but i don’t know how long i can wait. i’m an addict and i know it, but there’s only so much i can hold out for. he needs his ass smacked for this, and he knows it, but he loves playing with fire, and he knows i’m all fire under that facade of decorum. i have a wish list too but you can’t buy everything from ebay.

don’t ever, ever, ever tell me i’m nothing. you won’t like the reaction you get. yes, he said, you have no idea how nasty she can be. and he’s oh-so-right. he knows, but he still likes to play with fire whilst dancing along that fine line. i’m so close to telling him this, but it’s almost more fun letting him go, just to see how far he’ll take it.

“if you don’t get what you need, you won’t stay”. and that’s so true. why stick around hoping against hope for the impossible? i’ve never been one to bang my head against the wall for very long, and i’m getting so bored with it now…

Listening to a dial tone and suddenly it beeps. A high pitched invasive beep that leaves you wondering what it means and what it was that you were waiting to do. Yes. My creativity is the most important thing in my life but I left it to linger, wither and die while I did something else. Not quite true. It’s still there, just hiding in the corner hoping no one will notice that it’s there, Like the nerd at the party who’s trying to hide from the cool people, it’s praying that no one will prey on it. Will this beep announce the arrival of another nerd to hide with? Only HE knows, HE, the one who leads and protects me from “come what may”.

living in the middle of a north by north-east swell and i can’t control the tides of time or occurrence. not that i’d want to, really. she’s immaculate, adorable, so cute, super-efficient and living her life but one step at a time. evident and arduous, time found somewhere to linger & remnants of times yet to come haunt her sleepless nights.

and time marches on and this constant downfall will not cease. bad weather looms and lingers as much as the faint odour of a dead animal – hanging in the atmosphere much like a dreary wet blanket covering the typically tropical vista – turning it into a myriad of dull grey skies and lost mountain tops and colours that seem to have lost their edge. (add a multiply layer of #333333 to any tropical photo and you’ll see what i mean.)

nothing intertwines mood & colour more than the weather – or perhaps something does – it’s just so noticeable right now.

links between the two are inexplicable, but it’s probably better that way. when you know too much, you start expecting things, and you know that you always get let down in the end. so why wait through until the ends of time to find out what you already know? dammit, if you would only let sleeping dogs lie, you wouldn’t get bitten, stupid. and now look at yourself, gaping wounds that refuse to heal, and all you can do is lie there and cry about it. no, don’t fret, just forget. it’s the only way.