I Am No Longer In Control Of My Universe

I slept from precisely 10pm till precisely 6am. I discovered that I had one teabag left. I did not discover there was no milk till the bag was already steeping, and the cup already losing it's temperature to the cold damp vapor of the kitchen in an inversely-square manner. I did not discover that my car was parked-in till outside in my slippers, and had no wish to disturb the hungover souls for car keys. Nor did my slippers disturb the footpath much. The sunrose while i was in buying milk; the world was seductively rosy when I went into the petrol station, and was golden and shiny when i exited.

I have got three cups out of this bag so far.

until you resurrect that horse...

...i am not interested in watching you flog it.

go, get on your bandwagon and begone. go for a ride and then come back and get off.

then i will speak with you.

Title

we go to the movies and we know how it goes. we know how it will go. we don't even have to watch or listen or think cos every plot has the same corners and bumps in it. the scene is set with estranged family/lovers. the plot swings wildly between extremes, beyond extremes. they almost get away, the evil surely kills them, then they get away just in time. just when we think they are finally safe, the worst happens. we are so certain they are dead but they come back from the dead and we know that they will, because that is the only ending that would return the family and lovers to each other, bring the evil to justice, and leave the only casualties the shallow wimpy characters.

i love watching the beautiful Hollywood faces, the gold firelight or blue moonlight highlighting the sides of the nose, ringing the nostrils, edging the lips. there are always more shadows and highlights around the eyes and mouth than the rest of the face. the little shadows at the inside edges of the eyesockets.

i love being carried along by the storyline, letting the plot suggest itself to my by the silences, the volume, the facial expressions, the vocal inflections, the language of camera angles and close-ups, the soundtrack.

i love having the story in common with the rest of the population. to talk about with strangers on buses. we went through the same dangers, died the same death with the same hero's and losers, enjoyed the same reunions and ever afters. We have walked the same path and are standing at the end of that path together. we take our own paths from here and go to our own homes.

truth

it is lunchtime. it is sunny and warm. it is midwinter. i am outside sitting at the picnic table. this newspaper has been out here for weeks and is still soggy but the top is crispy, warm, and dry. i have attempted the crossword. i am drinking tea. i am writing in a silver pen. i am eating creamy porridge for breakfast. it is lunchtime. my laptop is broken. my watch has stopped. but the silence is nice and i make another cup of tea.