About face

I am tired of being silly. I want meaning and an intellect to bounce things at. An intellect that will stand while I bounce things and see what they hit or how they splat when they hit the floor. I am reading Marcus Westbury's essay "Fluid Cities Create", I'm responding in my quiet way with spinning words and pondering thoughts solid as objects.

You see, I have friends, some marvellous and necessary and others broken pointed things to prick my feet on and some I am so unsure of, so unsure as to what it is that they are doing in my life that I have to poke at myself to see if I am real. I am not tired of my friends, in fact I want to gather them to me with steel bands. I want to wind them through me until I have an infrastructure. I have friends but I hunt them in packs. I want to stand them in lines and walk straight down the centre looking neither left nor right simply feeling their presence.

I have family, it is fractured and unusual and far away but it is there. I have friends and family. I have friends and family. This is not a useful mantra.

I am not coming to pieces. I feel strong and positive, I'm lining up shots and splitting trees but it has come to my attention that I am tired of being silly and of launching, always launching. I want a constant companion not this interchangeable could be any one of you sitting with me existence. I want someone to sharpen my intellect on, someone so solidly there that I am unafraid of empty spaces.

Its not about that old foe romance. This is about building a treehouse to dive from and retreat to. A boxed thing of wonder run through with clouds and growing solid from the spinning earth, something that doesn't depend on hair styles, tectonic alignment or the scythe of careless wit.