animus amorous

he said. Shall we climb trees? YES.

I cycled up to the one of the best views in London and there he was, cute as all hell in his just-a-little rolled up trousers.
Some guy was being pulled around by two other guys I couldn't see what they were doing. He disembarked and said - 'I bet you can't do that' and I said come on now, and obviously we had to have a go. It was some weird motorised skateboard thing, like a Segway without a handle.
I nailed it.
And then he couldn't, because I had taken all the limelight and put it in my pocket, finished up with a flourish, an audience, a round of applause, a wolf whistle, a magnificent bow.
I asked the man with the camera 'why are you here' he was affronted, by my power it seemed, and said 'that's deep' in a fairly aggressive manner. I beat my chest and pinned him to the ground. Not really, but I might as well have.
We left to find the trees. A breathless sort of energy excited over everything, summer sunshine and the delight of having danced for the crowd at the earlier jazz had drawn out my spell - as Cassie calls it, those Marilyn moments when I am the centre of everyone's attention. I don't intend anything by it, I don't request or require it, the light must shine, and all the pretty moths come looking.
We climbed the tree, I went first, feeling somehow confident, at ease, all good, up I went. We had dumped the bikes on the ground and suddenly there we were, in this most cinematic state, the light framing him and flitting through the leaves above. Hours we sat in that tree. Me sat below him looking up and wondering whether this was all getting rather romantic. I remembered him as this fairly aloof boy, busy in his own world who wanted nothing to do with me. To find out that you had that all wrong, man that happens to me now.
I wonder if I can remember what we talked about, definitely politics, feminism, work, former colleagues, Peter had passed away, that was strange, to think that solid and present man was no longer in this realm. We imagined ordering ice cream and afternoon tea, and having one of those people you can now book from the internet to bring us takeout, so we wouldn't have to move. It seemed as though we ought to take a selfie, but I had left my phone on the bike. Transpires he hadn't, but didn't think to take a picture anyway. We were all caught up in it.
I had to get down, I was getting cold, but first I stood up and then he looked up at me and said it was like Titanic. We had already commented on the cinematic nature of the whole experience, I felt pretty exciting. I think it's funny that nothing happened up in that tree, but it started to become apparent that we were on a date and not just 'reconnecting'. He must have said that word about ten times, I like that wordplay of his.
We clambered down, I went first, so I could save him if I needed to. We passed those guys again, with the electric board, camera guy wanted to start up the convo again. We spent a brief strange moment in their presence and a drunk man said 'I am the police, I'm arresting you' I just sort of stood there and watched it all unfolding. We cycled off.
We went to the tea shop. I told him I am in therapy and that I am an alcoholic in a recovery program. He said his father had passed from that nasty disease.
The drunken man from earlier passed by again and informed us he was ordained and, taking our hands and placing them atop one another, and then his own, thus pronounced us man and wife.
Tumbleweed passed momentarily and neither of us knew what to say.
Then we struck up a conversation about Jung's anima and animus and a joke began to emerge about me beating my chest and displaying my masculine prowess. I absolutely delighted in his appreciation of me. How he allows his feminine side right out there and I am all masculine in mine. It's a new discovery for me, this absolute power self, I didn't really understand it before and kept trying to suppress it, but now its's all out there. He's cool with that.
We had a squat competition, where we held a squat for as long as possible. That hurt. We got closer, there was some touching, it was becoming more apparent.
Some whole joke about Jung started up, how do you spell it? No I said, not like Young, like Jung with a J. Very funny. E.F. Young.
We went to the Chinese restaurant on the corner in Greenwich.
We cycled very fast down the hill and went in.
We ordered some food and flirted.
We sat on a sort of wood shelf by the entrance and waited for our food. I looked at him and he looked at me and then he kissed me! We kissed like mad in the noodle bar. Hilarious. So many super classy romantic opportunities all afternoon and then he goes in for the kill in the queue at the Tai Won Mein.
I was thrilled.
We tried to eat by the river and got blown to freezingness and had to move, Except he kept holding me and kissing me and then shaking and getting very confused and dropping things.
We moved and tried again, some kissing, some eating, some sharing of music. Discovering lots of similarities, discovering that he remembers me a lot better or different stuff from what I remember.
He remembers me being in Revolution in Clapham and doing that ridiculous 'it's this way' muscle poseur move and finding that outrageously hot. I remember the weird, art date but not, thing we had years ago, and I asked him about that, he says we went for hot chocolate afterwards in Foyles and he had decided I was out of his league. I just remember thinking he was totally disinterested.
More kissing, then more. Then a load of kids started saying stuff while we were making out and then comically came and sat around us and saying 'man don't you hate a cock-block' we just giggled. I said nice things about them all and their youthfully fashionable clothes until they got bored and wandered off. It's good to remember how to be young and silly.
More kissing, he kisses my hands and that's beautiful.
We look at the Cutty Sark and talk about the solstice.
I get bike paranoia and have to go look at my bike.
Sitting on the bike rack it gets pretty steamy, I wrap my legs around him, I press against him, he's making me feel and think and breathe and dizzy.
I take a break to win a surfboard on Ebay. Which adds to the excitement.
I definitely want to sleep with him. But my house is a mess, I think. We go to the pub.
We get ginger beer and listen to all the crazy tunes they put on, from Robbie Williams to, well, I can't remember now, but we talk about the Anti Nazi League demo and I enjoy finding out that he is 32 (he enjoys finding out that I am 38), and that he was in first form at school when I was meeting Richey Manic at that thing.
There are women wrestling on the TV. He tells me he is totally into my arms, my strength. I feel like a fucking goddess. I'm so chill. I'm enjoying myself. We make out like crazy.
Another couple in the bar does the same thing which is more than I can handle, and I have to stop.
Then I have to go. I just need to get out, it's all too much and I've got work in the morning.
He keeps saying he can't believe it and he's so excited, so wound up. I am overjoyed to feel so female, powerful and desired.
We kiss again and I cycle away.
That night he Whatsapps me.
'yeah there's no way I can wait until tomorrow. 
Even though I can't really seem to formulate any sentences of note' 
*BEATS CHEST*
The next morning:
'so yesterday definitely happened, which is great. I'll check back soon when I can talk properly'

delicious.

i shall be dizzy until the next instalment...

this was the view during E.F. Young

are you sleeping brother?

I am in a murmur and meditation regarding a provocation reaching up from my insides to take a pilgrimage. to walk out of my door and begin a journey on foot to the north of England and up into Scotland along the historical route of the A1 and its predecessor Ermine Street. I'm not sure if modern life will permit me to make this trip all in one go, but perhaps that is the only way to ask some of the questions, and reveal some of the answers, that are bubbling up as I contemplate this project.

"we have to become fully activated human beings, every part of us, tremendously alive and ready to take charge”  Lewis Mumford

and...

are we asleep? http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/adamcurtis/entries/5a7b18b5-0ec3-3d3e-a307-54820a7c6a59 Adam Curtis, both his blog, and the amazing and inspiring film 'Bitter Lake'

so - my question:

what’s in your heart?

i’m asking whether you are asleep

I’m asking what you think your dream is, whether what we have come to believe is a reward that we are working towards is really coming, 

is it about pensions and security and retirement and reward for our years of service and blah

everything is so confusing now, and perhaps it’s because the system we trusted to provide the rewards keeps collapsing in on itself and those cracks are letting us see through the walls, like that film The Matrix. I love Tarkovsky so I'm down with Solaris being referenced throughout Bitter Lake.

addiction was my first wake up call

seems therapy has me in the throes of a second

I am asking you, I am asking myself

what does it mean to become fully realised as a human being, can the internal revolution provoke the external one?

i wonder if starting a TRA is my first step towards representing the views of my local community against the corporate elite. momentarily the very idea exhausted me. but like the abstinence-based recovery programme I give considerable amounts of time to, perhaps it will be equally invigorating.

am i really knackered? or am i just asleep?

apropos of nothing, Ben & I went to find the Thames lighthouse and along the way I saw this glowing fish. it's the most interesting image, of recent times, that I have in my vast collection of phone photographs, so, it's all yours.

x

A Confession

I took this photograph in the Lake District, it's pretty amazing, i'm going to print it and put it up on the wall and create a gallery of my work. exciting.

I consistently produce, I was going to say I don't, but there isn't a day goes by when I'm not taking a photograph of something. I've never failed to do that, instagram mainly, but it's all in there, still learning. I photographed a wedding in the summer and it was incredible what I captured, I felt like I have really learned something in all these years.

I remember back in the day, if you blogged you would have a pretty massive audience, back before Facebook, I had followers on my blog. I wrote a lot. People liked it, it seemed interesting, relevant, I liked it. Until I got trolled and quit - I didn't know what that was then - I just got sad and upset and didn't want to speak any more.

Now it's harder to get people to tune in, so much clamour, so I just pop in here from time to time and say a few things.

I've got my eye on the Joan Scheckel courses, I would like to make some more work, theatre, film, I don't know, something.

My current question is - is work in the way or am I? I still can't seem to find a bridge between things, I started a short film and my flat is in complete disarray while I wait for the 2nd day's shoot. In retrospect I don't think I would do that again! 2 days straight through, no loss of energy, the rest has to be done in the edit suite, and then you learn and move on.

So, that is kind of standing in my way at the moment, so many brilliant people's time and energy in a strange suspension, I think we will find the right moment to complete it. And I know I'd like to start a new project, I'd like to find a script. I thought about writing one but I feel like it is an insurmountable task! A whole new skillset that perhaps would be better left to someone who is actually already practiced.

I opened this little window just to get going, but I'm always in my own world, perhaps I could write form my own world, not the world I imagine is elsewhere, the world where 'writers' go.

Actually I read something today that was relevant - Tolstoy in 'A Confession' says "what do I know & what have I got to teach?" perhaps that is a good place to start.


p.s. tune of the day