ruminations

all day yesterday objects kept dropping, falling, colliding with gravity.
I made mental notes of this but I couldn't say why then, and can't now.

Teardrops make a sound. Raindrops too. Everything has a tonal force, in the weight of their footsteps.

On New Years Eve a guy came up to me and grabbed my face, in the too-bright of the kitchen light, and he looked into my eyes, and I could hear his fingers on my cheeks, and he said.. "why didn't anybody tell me" and gestured behind him with full lips and that boyish chin, and kept his eyes on mine, hypnotised, seemingly, and I didn't know quite what to do other than to stare right back, and smile, and frown, unsurely.

I had a man gaze into my eyes at one place of employment and told me my eyes were good for diagnosis.

But I don't see anything than what the person next to me sees. If I put anything on my senses it is gossamer, it is fragile, it is not really there.

I had strange dreams this weekend. I was in a small town, like a western town, and was waiting for my Mother, who is deceased, and I got the impression she was to appear on stage, her ghost, or her, back from the dead and very much alive. A woman next to me who had been in this same town dream last year, was talking to me as she always does in my dream about all sorts of things but I cannot remember what, other than she is taunting me, to make me jump up, maybe she is Gotcha. I get the feeling she fancies me in this gloomy way, and I always weave my way out of the crowd. Like I do in the dream before, with Dylan, and knowing what Love ought to feel like.

But I figured yesterday, sitting on the beach, after writing lovers initials into the sand, that would disappear with the wind and the surf, that it doesn't matter. What we see and hear and feel, yes it makes our everyday more vivid, but essentially for every photo we take, for ever kiss we share, it is to remember the moment that will end as quickly as it begun. We're all frantic collectors of moments.