man you've been a naughty boy and let your face grow long

i piked early from the grove tonight, ending my sabbatical there this week. when energy levels reach an all time low, resolutions accommodate. bliss is mostly continuous; i feel like i’ve had a four day conversation with god, the most stunning post-adolescent from heaven.
but now i’ve come home to collect my head, hoping there’s no lost fee, hoping that tomorrow i can rip off my night patch without leaving a residue. that rough, red, skin memory. we’ll see.

at the moment, i'm listening to The Beatles. this is the first time i've realised how wonderful they are, and it's making me really miss Mintie.

i wrote another very short story. here it is.


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I loved the way her face looked when she was thinking about something she couldn’t understand. I loved it so much that every week I’d give her a new book – Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, A Short History of Time, Ulysses, FLCL and so on. Eventually she understood all of the things I could think to tell her and all of the books I could think to give her. I could see it in her face. I didn’t see that look of curious wonder for six whole months, until, finally, there it was again. She was on the phone to someone, laughing, wondering. It was then that I had to let them be together. She didn’t understand him, ever. I have the photos to prove it, we still send cards at Christmas.