Thursday, January 28, 2010


When the fog hangs thick it's difficult to make out what's going on around me. Best to just sit still and wait. Wait for the noise to subside. Wait for the chills to fade. These days, The Fog is only ever a temporary setback. An intermission, a moment between Moments. Almost a blessing. Crawl into The Pod TM, focus on breathing, remember the future, now that I've forgotten to forget forgetting. Everything is coming, I know that now, whether it comes as Reality, Fantasy or simply as Hope - it's coming regardless, and I've walked blind and tripped trippity trip too often in The Past, so what's to do but sit peaceful in The Fog and wait for the path to show itself.

I write a ballad, a Love Song Dedication, a ballad of Two Ghosts, and I don't even wonder what they would say if they heard it. I just smile at the knowledge that The Past is a quaint holiday destination, but my ambition lies dead ahead. The song is a gentle goodbye, a better way to walk into Tomorrow. That's enough to bury the dead, isn't it? With soft water colours, a picture they will never know I painted of them,  but which I will hang proud from my heart now that I'm finally ready to play - to face the self imposed intimidation of being surrounded for so long by people I put on pedestals, people, that through no fault of their own, held me back, frightened me into thinking I had nothing to give. But I have my own Soul to give, and that's the one thing I've always stood by, though perhaps, have never lived up to. So...Matty James, I think, I'll play under the name Matty James. It's two sides of me, the known and the unknown, and the blanket of enigmatic contradiction feels warm around my shoulders. I think it fits. Ego or no.

Her and I - we write, as it's all we have, but it's all we've ever had, so that fits too. And time bends and stretches in circles and oblongs and I slide into it now, comfortable, clear...and well...I'm restless as Hell, but that energy sure beats Anger. Or worse, Shame. Besides - nothing beats this Hard Fought Freedom. And I am reborn, as is my sister, as are my friends, reborn from all those bloody tears and yesterdays. Young again, naive again, built of dreams yet holding the power to create reality in a single word.



I can do this.

We can all do this.



  1. Matty James. Round and round on the merry go round. Born Dead. But why forever striving? It's always tomorrow. To. Moor. [or] Row. Of course, I may be mistaken. The fog hangs over my head too. I can't see a bloody thing. I lie. That's not true. Recently clarity has imposed itself on me and sometimes I worry that its intensity will... well, I'm not sure what, actually. Clarity can sometimes be fog-like too. What is your soul made of? I don't think the soul and Ego are very good friends. Or perhaps, again, I am mistaken. Perhaps they are two lovers, forever bickering, injecting each other with anti-monotony-dote.

  2. I think the ego gets a bad rap, or like anything, can be abused. But with the right valve attached, a healthy dose of self worth is never a negative thing. So in this way, I think it has its place.

    In context of the writing above, I was more ashamed of using the word enigmatic - I thought that may have come across egotistical. Or perhaps, I am mistaken.

    Your first few sentences confuse me a little. Born dead and forever striving - I need to ponder that a little maybe, to understand where you are coming from. But it is a glorious night, and confusion, like The Fog TM, are all part of This Mystery.

    Well, that and Moroccan Soup Kitchen tucker.


  3. There was logic to 'Born Dead' when I wrote it, but, alas, it eludes me now. But you were writing about being reborn: young again, naive again, which I suppose relates to dying. I guess I didn't understand why you would want to go back to being young again when it is the wisdom of not being young that allows you to reflect... and write. Perhaps you could just bury that ambition that lies 'dead ahead' and get off the merry-go-round?

    The word enigmatic was used to describe the contradiction, which I thought was apt and not egotistical.

  4. I meant enjoy the merry-go-round. Which you seem to be doing, but I get confused. It's that bloody blanket of enigmatic contradiction that you love so much. It's snug. It fits. But it reeks of Ego.

  5. I absolutely agree. And it's a conversation I've had with a few people recently. Being older, and a sliver of a sliver wiser, is certainly much preferable. In fact, I've never been happier or more appreciative than I am right now. I guess younger meant to me...rediscovering wonder, which can be so easily lost. Then again, when I look back on writing the logic is sometimes lost on me as well. Must be the blankie wrapped around my head.

    Hear hear Fry! Hello, I miss you. x