{ 03.05 } .. . lazuli

the girl in the thought balloon

The last time I held her, my arms felt heavier than this blank, draping sky. From lust to indifference within a handful of saturday nights, I squandered my opportunities like I would be a perpetual adolescent. I felt the clichés cling tight onto the ass hairs of my aspirations. I felt the boredom in her blueberry eyes.

‘What makes you think I still care?’ I don’t remember who asked first. ‘What made you think I had cared at all?’ came the retort. It was kind of sad how true those angry lies quickly became.

So we never did get past a certain stage, always tethered to the mundane rhythms of our ordinary days. Maybe we could never fully believe in each other. Perhaps I never believed in myself.



spiral scratch
no substitute love .. . { estelle, shine }
take this hammer .. . { leadbelly, tell me where did you sleep last night }
transmission .. . { joy division }

{ 03.04 } .. . verdant

together we will corner languor

I’ve been told that I am making it up all the time. Whilst this is mostly true, it still seems a little peevish of her to point it out. At least, she isn’t calling me an out-and-out liar.

So, here is something that seems to be mostly true. When I look at her now, I see the woman she used to be. I see a face that had given men pause. I see a figure that shimmied and swayed like sultry, seductive jazz. And there is still something in her eyes that sometimes reveals the vixen in her heart, something that erases twenty years with a sidelong wink.

As we linger on a wide expanse of cotton and down, relishing this momentary eternity, I check to see that I’m not in dream after the tide of make-believe recedes.

spiral scratch

how sweet it is (to be loved by you) .. . { marvin gaye, hitsville, usa }

rodeo of fallen stars .. . { swank, pappy’s corn squeezin’s }

girlfriend .. . { matthew sweet, girlfriend }

{ 03.03 } .. . jaundice

effective dopplering

Sometimes I hear a false echo, like an insincere agreement. Maybe, I’m just being morally lazy. It seems easier at the time. And the compromise appears negligible. Maybe, I’m fooling myself. But then, it wouldn’t be the first time. And it always seems to have worked before.

She’s smoking and I say, I don’t mind. And not that I really do. But I find that my intolerance for second-hand smoke is in inverse proportion to the attractiveness of the woman on fire. You may feel that I’m calculating. I think I’m merely weighing the possibilities between an emotional spark and emphysema.

And, really, isn’t the best kind of love just like cancer? Growing without limits, overtaking the body, an all-consuming passion that leaves you gasping?



spiral scratch
divinities du styx .. . { maria callas, the voice of the century }
such a twat .. . { the streets, a grand don’t come for free }
funny little frog .. . { belle and sebastian, the life pursuit }

{ 03.02 } .. . mandarin

which escape to mount

She blinks. And looks away.

The winter sets with the madness of abandonment. How could I have left you, that question spreads across my mind like hoarfrost over glass. Prettily prismatic, she still moves me in her movement though she’s not in sight. The echo and sway of her transom hips pendulum my attention to and fro. Despite every fair from fair sometime declines, she still shines brightly in her ways. Each time I kissed her, I tasted the sweetness of her summer radiance, yet I had not known her in her youthful days.

Now, in the doldrums of this deadened season, the tartness of my recollections sharpens my sense of loss. And all I can look forward to is another change, from vernal to venal, whilst waiting for my darling buds of May.



spiral scratch
my wife and my dead wife .. . { robyn hithchcock and the egyptians, gotta let this hen out! }
hey! get out of my way .. . { the cardigans, life }
screaming hand .. . { jay reatard, matador singles ’08 }

{ 03.01 } .. . carmine

hello, this must be haven

Red is the sound of my underworld, a gut-vibrating rumble that pins my arms and holds me tight. It’s the pressure of liquid rock that completely envelops me until I am dreadfully swaddled. This will be the last time, I swear. I will rip this cord, the vein of stagnation, my igneous placenta.

Yet, whilst I remain entangled in its sway, trapped within its magma-liminty, I feel fabulously fossil free. Is it a transition to transgression? A resistance to subsistence? A happy dance in smarty pants?

In this troggy cavern, inside this crimson haze, I’m searching for my private Persephone; I’m digging for a Eurydice to save.



spiral scratch
crooked head .. . { fucked up, the chemistry of common life }
last day of the year .. . { reid jamieson, the unavoidable truth }
hardly wait .. . { pj harvey, 4-track demo }