Whizzer

We're on the train again, a route done a few times already. The lights whizz by, always in straight lines, always till the glass starts to warp the light into the nothingness of the window frame. The lights are like fireflies perched on leaves, while I cycle madly through the forest, yes, at night. A light is hope in the darkness, a signal for your loved one to come home safely to. A warning for the demons to stay at ten paces and not approach for fear of their own oblivion. Cos even demons fear oblivion.

Different coloured lights, some burning like fire others burning the synthetic wick inside, fueled by the rare gases that make up our own intake too. Whites as hot as 6 watts and silvery blue burn holes in my eyes and leave their children behind, like a mother wasp. Only these children are quickly smeared and their messy entrails leave long stains down the direction I'm going. I'm not in control of this bicycle, instead, its the space between the lights that guide my vehicle down a path that I know of, but can't control.

I had a wonderful evening. It's 12PM, I'm on an hourlong train out of London to my tireless bed in Newbury. My evening was shared with my chinese colleagues and one special spanish dear, Alesha. We invaded a crampy italian restaurant a stone's throw away from the corner of James and Bond Street in central London. The food was great, but then I've always been a sucker for Lasagna, just like Garfield. It wasn't long before the topic of chinese names came up, and how to draw (or rather write) your name in chinese. Often, like in native american culture, the chinese give associative names to their western peers. While Alesha went outside to grab a smoke, I asked my comrades for Alesha's chinese name. "Li Wei" they said, or rather, "Lee Way". On a clean napkin with a special pen, Jing scribed Alesha's name with artistic flair. Alesha got back and we presented her with her new name. Li Wei means: Beautiful Smile. Alesha wore her name with great fervour.

Soon the tables were turned, and the topic of my own name came up. "Shaun" is very similar to a chinese word for the 9th layer of sky. "Tian Xiao" or, reaching for the sky with great speed. A metaphor for my experience on this trip. Jing later remakred, that because I was so tall, my name had more meaning that just the sound of Shaun in chinese. Mmm, cheesy. :)

Feel alive

We left the blinds open last night. It was too hot anyway to close them. This morning, the sun rose as it normally did but unabashed, casting its rays on our sleeping faces. It wasn't long before the orange built up behind our eyelids and woke us gently. I remember opening my eyes to see you still sleeping, facing me, half your beautiful face buried in the pillow. When you sleep, you smile - A content smile. I smiled too. That's the magic of us, even in such little ways do we find joy from and with one another. I must have smiled a tad too bright, because at that moment you woke to see me smiling at you. Your eyes glinted, sparks flew. You make me feel wonderful.

With an underhanded slap, you pulled the covers over our heads, grinning the way you do, such a naughty grin. The sheets are cool and feel great on our relaxed frames. The rush of warming air and the smell of you permeate my senses. Your hands are soft and just the right tempreature. Not too hot to be glowing like our passion, or too cold to make me recoil. Just right.

Your hair is wild but still behaving. I love your rich hair, your essence flowing around you. So soft to the touch.

Toes and feet start to play at the exposed end of the bed.

The phone rings. It's your boss, you need to come into work earlier than normal. You're disappointed, but I'm gloating to myself. I'm in love with one respected in her career, she's so busy but she always makes time for me. I know that she loves me more than amount of effort she puts into her work, which is beyond the call of duty anyway.

The kettle boils. You love the way I make you that special coffee and deliver it to you in my boxers. If coffee had meaning, this cup was laden with adoration. I would wake at any hour to deliver you this special coffee just to see that expression on your face as you take the first sip. It's the hot thrill, warming satisfaction you get. I recall the way you kiss me when you pull the cup to your lips. Like a dumbstruck kid, I watch you sip your coffee in total fascination. Don't look at me like that, or you'll be late for work! :)

Nicole is someone special, she's like the sister I never had. She and I work well together. For my birthday this year, she got me two inspired and inspiring little books, one "The Pocket Muse" and the other, a book on "The Right to Write". Chapter 1 of the Right to Write has the following exercise...

Describe how and what you are feeling right now. Write about anything and everything that comes to mind. Be whatever and however you are at this moment. Get current. Feel the current of your thoughts and emotions. Here goes...

Beat. Beat. Something I suck at. Something I wish I could improve. I dream of making music, writing lyrics, making others feel how I feel when I hear and recognise an awesome song. One such song is Guano Apes - Quietly. Heh, it reminds me of someone special, who said she had given me the song, when I know it was other way round. She's fun like that. The song itself has meaning through its rhythym. The drumming is not a fixed rhythym, but rather natural. Like a heart beat is not just a blip-blip-blip, it has a recognisable wave, yet each one is unique, like a snowflake. How does a heartbeat represent a snowflake? A snowflake is shaped out of the chaos of winds, water and particles in the air. A heartbeat is the order in our chaos. it's consistent. You'll always have snowflakes in snow. Isn't a snowflake the heartbeat of a winter's storm? Isn't the heartbeat the source of life? Both governed by laws we don't fully understand. A snowflake is naturally beautiful, just like a heartbeat. It's just there, it just exists, it shows us that even the smallest things have the greatest meaning, that we cannot underestimate the simple things in life. You are my snowflake, my heartbeat. You melt in my hands, you pulse in my hands. You're amazing. You're the source of my inspiration, my energy, my willingnes to live. You remind me that I'm alive. I listen to my pulse. Beat beat beat.

The song changes. It's more chilled. Yellow. Yellow is the colour of cowards, of warning, of sweetness. Yellow goes well with shades of red, black and sometimes blue. Black and blue. Bruising. Injury. Thoughtless action. Rewind, always rewinding to the moment to find out what went wrong. Why? Accidents happen. Accidents make you stronger. Life without accidents, faults, errors would be pretty, pretty boring. Accidents remind us we're human, we're allowed to make mistakes. We're not allowed to make them happen again though. Some people live perpetual accidents. Dodging one accident to have another. Like lying. If you lie, you're permanently having accidents. Do things right or don't do them.

Happy Birthday Mike. May you have many more than me. :)

Frustration (I'm sure I've used this word before)

Well well, my UK trip was delayed for another week, becuase the client wasn't ready. Which is good I guess, gives me more time to organise goodies before I make like an instinctless bird, flying north into winter.

This time, the adventure will be different. I'll have my own friends to chill with over weekends and I'll be going on my own. They always say that if you go on your own somewhere, you're bound to come out with more friends. I certainly felt this on my last trip to the US. Heck, I even asked someone special out on a date!

On the negative side, it means everyone thinks I'm in the UK already. (I'm sure you can picture the MSN transcripts.) It's my own fault for being so energetic about the whole thing, heh.

A week's delay also means another week of driving the scoob. It's going to be 3 weeks soon since I got it. Amazing how quick time flies, especially when you're having fun. :) Mike and Mom offered to sell my old car down in Cape Town and even organised a friend to drive it down for me. It certainly lifted a lot of weight off my shoulders knowing it's in their capable hands. I love you mom! :D

Clutch control proved a problem initially, especially for my oogle-eyed passengers. I had numerous complaints from one person specifically. No names mentioned. Granted, it was my second day of driving the noobwagon.

What a boring entry.

Everyday I see you before my vision clouds over, obscured by thoughts I dare not mention to you. My hand itches at the prospect that it could be on the back of your shoulder, light touch.

Do you know that when you smile at me, you're killing me inside? It's like a cancer getting a push toward the oblivion of it's host. Do you know that when you look at me the way you innocently do, you're burning holes through me?

Maybe you're not so oblivious, maybe you're actually playing me for the sucker I am. If I ever find out, I'll be morose for the fact that I've spent so much energy on one so thought and care less.

While you might know or think that I know and think you're my everything, you're also my everything because I'm truly alive when I love you. It's selfish that way but you bring out the best of me.

This one for a friend who's leaving for Canada, like forever.

If touch could be a messenger. Imagine! Even a fingertip to exposed skin is an explosion of emotion. A conduit for deep thought, a goddamn expressway of expression. Trucks on roids, cascade down the lanes delivering their payload. Their drivers crazy, keeping up a frantic pace, tired from the concentration required all this time. At the end of the route, salvation, reward and of course frothing cold beers served by big-tittied wenches. Not one driver knows what his iron steed has been hauling, only that the delivery is important and well paid for. The source, well known. The destination, dangerous. Damn these drug dealers.