30

and oh there's a lot of love.
It's twenty past seven and I'm already sat down to work for the night.
There were flower (pink carnations) and a book (about Batavia) and a very rushed dinner in Hilarys...but no long looks and no relaxed toying with time because for tonight I still can.
And I can't forgive excuses to study and rest up for tomorrow because I know the nights I have bargained with, the sleep I have gone without to make sure a particular night is special. Fuck practicality.
If I had one wish for my 30th birthday, one I know is not possible, nor right, nor clean would be for one more night with the Adam I met the night the sailors came to Freo. To be back in that yellow room in Wray Avenue when the world and all time had stopped.

Today was full of beautiful things. Until I came home from work it was effortless and special and beautiful. Maybe I expect too much. Maybe being a dad and busy with a proper job is too much, but I don't think so. We were just going through the motions and it's only been six months.

And then Dale called. And that made most of it much better. Because I remember how to banter with people that love you. They might forget, which is okay, but they love you, across years and across states. That's important.

I think I put too much worth in the princess treatment, and maybe the lack of it is what 30 is all about. But I loved Joe for kissing me today, and A for kissing my hand, like a knight. And the flowers and chocolates and the excitement.

So- for want of something more special, I have my soundtrack of powderfinger, gary jules, garth brooks, bizet and ska-p and will work through the last of my metrica.

Goodnight...