'And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.'

Drums like heartbeats

Last week a colleague and I took some people to a club called Jumpin' Jacks. It was their learning disabilities night and it was PACKED. The moment that pumping music with your bog-standard basic beats (you know, the usual pop/club crap) started thumping out of the speakers, people's bodies began moving. Now several of the people there were really quite advanced with their disability and had no communcation skills whatsoever but they still felt the music and moved their bodies to it, almost involuntarily...and it got me thinking of when I hear a winding, sexy eastern drum beat, or a full-on inyerface metal drum solo: my hips can't help but move. It just goes to show that however detached or attached we are from our own societies, we are still truly 'as one' sometimes, and it also goes to show how fucking amazing music is and how if there has been anything close to miraculous during our thousands of tumultuous years on this doomed planet...then that thing is music. Melodies like blood running through veins. Drums like heartbeats.

So, things have been strangely shit and strangely awesome. Everything is black and white all at the same time. Some new things have happened, and some things that are all too familiar and old. It depresses me how clinically people look at things sometimes.

Also, it's all a bit new and strange to trust someone instantly in that way. Am I foolish? Or just lucky? He has a beautiful heart which kind of...shines. I'm used to hearts of all different colours, but not shiny ones! That probably makes sense only to me...shut up Joanna. Strange how it all happened. How he crept inside my head without me really knowing. Sneaky little shit.

The days move a bit too slowly at the moment; it can be frustrating waiting for depleted energies to creep back into the blue. But I need to look after myself. And that I shall do.

Louis Wain's descent into madness and psychosis: fascinating how indicative this simple set of images is of how our view of things around us can become blurred and obscured so very easily...

'Doubt seperates people. It is the poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts.'

Dynamics change. People behave strangely. Things slip through fingers. Things fall apart.

Oftentimes the best things in life destroy themselves from the inside.