ever feel the strong inner desire to write madly and endlessly on and on concerning all the conflicting thoughts and emotions within, a physical need to purge one’s heart of all cumbersome clouds and vulnerable joys alike, yet lacking all energy to do so? that is me in this moment. and has been for the past few days. i lack any drive to record and relate all recent events.

that’s not to say that there haven’t been things worth writing about. quite the contrary. and maybe that’s just it; maybe there’s too much. too many new thoughts. new ideas. new experiences to try and pin them down in paragraph format.

i possess a fragmentary mind that pauses and ponders on the most vague and obscure of things. my thoughts are swathed in cellos and deep blues. some of my most cherished moments are collaborating and constructing metaphors with a friend who sees in much the same way.

i often daydream things in colours inverted and shapes disproportioned. my mind is a madhouse.

today is a day i can smile at. we awoke early to grocery shop for our co-op lunch and ended up at the church with time to spare and spend on the steps serenading those who strolled by in the sunshine. then volpone and noodles. then ant and cleo and a sunset and fat chips. sustenance of the soul!

i need to work on my lists of favourites…

oh dear. what else. shakespeare. we made the commute to stratford and dutifully went round to all the historic houses and museums, perhaps taking more delight in the malteser fudge we bought in the candy shop. or the circle of stones we stopped to see on the way back, taking flying photos through the fields.

that was saturday. sunday jilllian took bethany and alisha and i to some rubbled ruins in the country somewhere and a little town that started with a ‘b’ where we poked around some shops and galleries and a church, afterwhich we headed home for some true english tea and crumpets. and then i read macbeth with one eye. and watched rugby with the other…

our heating was broken for the past couple of days so we survived the cold on a couple heaters and a fire. i feel rather triumphant for braving it through such great adversity.

we mingled with the ghosts of the inkling poets tolkien and lewis at the infamous eagle and child. and then out again to the theatre to travel through three different time periods of the intertwining plot of ‘a trip to scarborough.’

life is funny sometimes. like on friday when i was fed up with my too long fingernails so i finally clipped them out of exasperation only to ironically enough end up playing guitar in chapel that evening. it was nice to strum again. oh! the message that evening was achingly beautiful, perhaps the highlight of my week. an older bearded man with a little bounce in his step spoke in so eloquent a fashion he held me spellbound in my seat. twas pure poetry merely glowing with the truth contained therein. he was painting the picture of God as the artist working with us the clay with all our traits and flaws, elaborating on the relationship between the creator and ourselves, how we’re each formed uniquely by his gentle hands that move with the clay, guiding, not forcing. he said it far better than i but the message left its golden imprint.

also, i am going to lisbon in two weeks and i have a ticket for les mis in london. joy joy joy!