The ball is round. The game lasts 90 minutes. Everything else is pure theory. Let’s go.

So, been doing a fair amount of self-evaluation lately. My old motto, the one that I was so proud of, was ‘Take only experience, leave only memories.’

I rather liked that motto, it did the job quite nicely.

I have a lot of memories, and my sense of self is constructed from those memories, from the false ones as well as the true ones I think. After all, when it comes to memories, it’s all subjective. It doesn’t actually matter when it comes to self-identity what you remember wrongly, what you have entirely made up, and what you remember in excruciatingly accurate detail. I think I’ve been aware of quite how difficult I am to be around for a long time, so I’m also aware of how much I overcompensate as well.

The temporary nature of friendship, of lovers, of every sort of relationship there is has always been a sort of inevitability in the back of my mind. The fragility of all life, of all circumstances, and the inevitability of change leaves me loving things that people see as trivial. When you really think about it, the fact that anything goes well is just AMAZING. It’s not that I expect the worst but the fact that people like me I find wonderful, the fact that days go well is perfect. I can’t explain it. Things, are marvellous.

Do I have a problem with trust? Yes, actually I do, me, it’s not that I don’t trust people, I do. Possibly far too easily, but I assume on the fragility of things, I have a part of my head that assumes life will throw curve balls to say the least. Thats the basis of my easy come and easy go take on things and yet memories continue to throw their hold over me, as they do anyone.

A friend said earlier, rather kindly I thought, that I had been ‘shaky’ of late. A truce has been entered into as far as Love goes and that means LOVE, not only the crap of romance but all of it. Some relationships are not temporary, though I assume all are. And all involve love.

And that’s fucking hard.

The ball is round. The game lasts 90 minutes. Nothing else to do except play. No theories, just playing, for good.

Let’s go.

I wish I was a hunter

I wish I was a hunter
in search of different food
I wish I was the animal
which fits into that mood
I wish I was a person
with unlimited breath
I wish I was a heartbeat
that never comes to rest

I wish I was a hunter
in search of different food
I wish I was the animal
which fits into that mood

I wish I was a stranger
who understands the sky
I wish I was a starship
when Saturn’s flying by
I wish I was a princess
with armies at her hand
I wish I was a ruler
who’d make them understand

Never– I wish…
Never say Never
I wish…
NEVER
I wish…
–SAY NEVER

I wish I was a writer
who sees what is yet unseen
I wish I was a prayer
expressing what I mean
I wish I was a forest
of trees that do not hide
I wish I was a clearing
No secrets left inside

I wish I was a writer
who sees what is yet unseen
I wish I was a prayer
expressing what I mean
I wish I was a forest
of trees that do not hide
I wish I was a clearing
No secrets left inside–yeah

I wish I was a hunter
in search of different food
I wish I was the animal
which fits into that mood
I wish I was a person
with unlimited breath
I wish I was a heartbeat
that never comes to rest

I wish I was a hunter
in search of different food
I wish I was the animal
that fits into that mood

I wish I was a forest
of trees that do not hide
I wish I was a clearing
no secrets left inside
I wish I was a stranger
who understands the sky
I wish I was a starship
when Saturn’s flying by

I wish…I wish…I wish…
I wish I was a hunter.

2 thoughts on “

  1. Ah, Lola Rennt. Funny how things go; I was just talking about that earlier.

    Awareness of fragility is good; assumption that fragility means it will break can be awkward for contentment. Perhaps the game metaphors really are best for life; the objective is not so much to get up the league tables as to score points and let those tables tend to themselves, where points translate to happiness/health/similar good things.

    Disturbingly, I think this may yet again basically come back to Kipling.

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