I Recognise The Dust In Here.

I received a phone call this afternoon from Richard, suggesting we do some serious Thursday afternoon hanging out. I’d just sprung cleaned my entire flat. It was sparkly new, breezy, airy and all too ready for a new inhabitant. It’s been kind of desheviled of late. I hadn’t vacuumed in some three months. I know. Foul. I’m not really sure what I’ve been waiting for. I think part of me has enjoyed the squaller. Revelled in it, even.

We drank Sauvignon blanc, Richard and I, as the afternoon set, smoked a wee few and listened to some tracks and talked about the law. Me and my recent work hurdle, and subsequent headache, he and his decision to defer law again and return to his clarinet, his paintings, and his music…

He arrived charming and well suited, his corderoy mustard and the rain.

It’s always so lovely spending a quiet, clean afternoon with a gentleman, I reminded myself as I ordered in pizza and refilled our glasses.

But my place is a quiet pad. It’s mainly silent these days. I don’t share it with anyone, for a start. And I don’t listen to a lot of music when I write. So with the exception of my dancing, I usually just listen to the city, or the rain, or the French or Japanese neighbors… I like it like this. I don’t miss the shouting. And I hardly miss the music.

So we relocated to Richards, which is just next door and oh so full of records, I wish I could locate my battery recharger– I am GAGGING lately to take loads of pictures… Loads… I love hanging at Richards. He has a lot more books than I do and sparkly new Mac he picked up last time he was in New York. The screen’s not cracked and the keys are till some months new. I love that. I’m writing on his lappy now, which is lush, lush, lush.

So while we play here, my place, back home, next door, mine

is all

set up now

for seriousness–

all primed and ready for another stab at academia, while continuing to write daily, patiently, persistently.

My printer has the best seat in the house.

My books are stacked wide and high.

Everything is neatly filed now, it all makes sense.

I’ve even worked up the courage to re-read.

I’ve been doing a lot of re-reading.

And it ain’t all bad. Not at all. Not at all.



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