every day about 6.15, maybe exactly 6.15, the bell starts tolling. it's a real bell, a huge church bell, i realised yesterday, but at this distance the sound is flat and electronic. it tolls for a long time. longer than any bell should toll. like time has stopped for a bit or, better, got stuck in a groove.

the wooden stairs... in st john's... i said they were worn... but not just that, sort of sagging, but beautifully sagging, aged and strong and pale and dry and bowed like bent bone... driftbone... big...

His voice - soft, strong, hygienic - swathed over her; wiped her clean.

there's supposedly a harpsichord kicking round somewhere....
i feel like a little snail.
thinkhaze
a harpsichord!!
yahoo
I KNOW!!
"several" in fact.
i have no idea where.
thinkhaze
why snail, isolation?
yahoo
or how u get tot hem.
thinkhaze
several!!
yahoo
i dont know
sleepy isolation.
yes.
thinkhaze
is it like a labyrinth?
yahoo
sleepy isolation.
its confusing. thats for sure.
noone helps you.
you're on your own.

Buy the Big Issue! Last one left!
The Big Issue! Only one left.

i should have called that mozart-azs-wagner story "portait of the artist with a stuck fart" or even "sonata for stuck fart"





**




liplicked, she sat back. her scandalled eyes scanned the mad scene, the blur of him running off, the slack backseat of his jeans.

"But why did they put you in jail?" the boy asked the man.
"Because I am a pederast," the man explained.
"What's a pederast?" asked the boy.
"Well, it's... It's a person who thinks very bad things. Who thinks the very worst things."
"Oh! OK so, I guess, it's a bit like a pessimist?" And here the boy paused in thought. "Gee," he said at length, thumbing his bagstrap, "I'm kind of a pessimist myself, sometimes. Gee. They shouldn't put people in jail just for that."

bkp@hotmail.com
anyway, what i was gonna say is, I remember thinking you were one of the most beautiful girls i'd ever seen
yahoo
!!!!!!
bkp@hotmail.com
yeah, true.
yahoo
wow.
bkp@hotmail.com
haha, that killed ur train of thought.
but yeah, it was nice.

tonight i can't stand it you're too far away
and love's like a tongue-twister so hard to say

i have to remember 'be here in this time'
don't just wait and wish it away.

but today today was a beautiful day
short as it was
the sun the squirrel the secret garden the water the rippling on the roof as i stood inside the bridge of sighs
with that feeling kind of like a disbelieving laugh looking up
being there

and in st john's college
finding my way up the stairs
several sets
with their wood worn, worn
over centuries, wood
like a riverbed, somehow
or something like driftwood,
but that doesn't get it either.