Wearing garfield boxers in a thin pink morning

I'm in WA again.

But first: Singapore. I managed to sleep all the way there - yay for zimovane whatever the hell it's made of, it works. One glass of red, some dinner, a cartoon, a pill and snooze, all the way to Singapore. I started to feel a bit teary when we arced over the ocean, and small islands like floating dreams wafted in and out of view under the clouds.
But then the humid 35 degree heat hit me, and I thought this can't be so bad. I only had an hour or so to wait, and Singapore airport is slightly more arresting than heathrow, so it wasn't hard to kill time. Free internet for god's sake!

And the flight to Oz. I sat next to a young Curtin student (his first time to Perth) called Patrick O'Brien, from Sri Lanka...I had my doubts, but maybe his parents were Irish...anyway, he spoke mercifully little, which towards the end of the five hours was lucky, because I couldn't control my tears. I probably overdid the shiraz, but I also felt full up with emotion. Why is it that it's so fucking fucking good to come back here, so effortless, so ME, and yet there is this big gaping emptiness, where my feeling of HOME should be?? Dunno...tough questions, reckon i'll be seeking the answer forever.

I'm currently sat at Betty and Peter's messy kitchen table, on my fifth cup of tea, wearing garfield boxer shorts, with the screen door open at my back, and a cheeky crow screaming into the morning. I've made some attempts at pastel drawings, more enthusiasm than talent you understand, but it felt good to smear colours over the page.

I've been awake for something like 18 hours now, and I will need to stay awake for at least another 10, so that I can kick this jetlag in the arse. Uni today, and I'm cooking dinner, and catching up and settling in, yet yearning yearning to be back ...

I'm trying to remember that nin quote about the risk it takes to stay in a bud, compared to the risk it takes to blossom. and rilke, about loving the questions. Well hell, I'm just embracing the whole damn puzzle. Here's to balmy mornings, and pink frangipani flowers, and time!

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London first and then...

I woke up in time to watch the curve of the thames stretch out beneath us...but my eyes stang from too much crying and too little sleep, so I smiled at London quietly and went back to sleep until we landed in roaring sunshine.
Budapest had echoed my mood with pouring snow - big soft flakes that just came and came. It was hard to leave.
Hard to have that conversation last night about being faithful.

It made me think that love really does bring out the best in people, and sometimes only hindsight makes this realisation possible. B makes me want to be good. Crazy stuff.

I have a hacking cough that could wake the dead, I have another 5 hours to kill and fucking yahoo isn't working. But the internet is still happily swallowing my pounds. Bastards.

Last night when I was awake and he was asleep, and I was feeling silly and full of space and emptiness, I kept thinking, I just want to stop. I want to stop and settle and quit this fucking fidgeting around the goddamn planet. There. Rant over.

Next stop Singapore.

Lure of the west and a hook in my throat

I bought my flight today. I'm trying to get excited. To recall how much I adore Freo, how much I love my solitude. And I do...but I'm going to miss Balint so much it makes me want to eat like it's going out of fashion. Compulsively.
But being back at Uni will be good. Being with P and B will be good. Getting a tan, eating mangoes and avocadoes and drinking Little Creatures. I'll miss Rob though - strange to think he won't be there.
Yesterday I was lethargic, today I am more restless than I can say.

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