just a regular john (doe)

I don’t acknowledge the regular punters very often, but I know you are out there. Some are online contacts I have made through SU and FB, whilst others have made links through WordPress itself. Some, I know, are lurkers from ‘real life’ who are bit curious about me and did the inevitable googlewhack.

Thank you for dropping by, and, I am aware it’s been a while since my last set of regular posts – day to day work and getting practical things done has been somewhat to the fore recently so my poetry writing has suffered a tad for it.

I’ll be remedying this very shortly,

yers anapestically, dactylically and epodically,
~ EB.

Halcyon days

Skies, ink blotted slate black veils
Irritable warm winds whip and trip
Biting, whining dogs at your heels
Summer, a long lost lover, slips

Away, a memory of warmth
Of laughter in bright light and breeze
Shimmering, clinquant radiance
Carefree caresses, glances, embraces

Traces of a consolatory smile
All the while, October cold intrudes
June having fled; the sun: erstwhile
Subdued in overcast cloud; dampened mood

Halcyon days, absconded, eloped
To greener southern sun bound climes
Wistful gaze seek bluer skies; sighs, hoped
For incalescent, temperate, golden times.

Karma’s a bitch

This week has felt distinctly fateful. I mean, it’s not often you can say you nearly ran in head on with your ex-partner and the bitch who caused him to be my ex partner within the same day.

I actually saw her first on the Wednesday evening, for the first time in.. ohhh… what? Three years? Mind you, she has been keeping a pretty low profile.

So, anyway, she was wandering down on the opposite side of the road. Just as well really, because, please excuse my french, if I’d been on that side of the road she could have been french toast.

If I sound a tad annoyed, it might be that for nine months she was seeing my partner of seven years, on the side (like a round of extra french fries and thighs), whilst also visiting my house every Sunday ‘as a friend’ for role play gaming sessions with said hubby and another friend. (Jusque un peu Brazen, non?)

Point is, I took a deep breath.. and let her go.

Then Thursday comes along, I swing around the corner into a middle aisle of the local supermarket and nearly collide into my ex-partner. Except really, I didn’t want to hang around and chat. So I just kept going. I’m not sure if he registered I was there or just decided that following me might have been detrimental to his health.

Odd thing is, I look back on both of them and just think, good luck to them. Because perhaps, really, it’s better that I am out of that relationship (it wasn’t healthy for me).

I just find it odd that I saw both of them for the first time in ages, within a 24 hour period. And in a way, it really focuses on one point: finally letting go of the past and moving on. Which I really am aiming to do, by moving away from my current job and into training and then on, hopefully into teaching, in another country this autumn.

I also find it wonderful that a good friend of mine is also getting to move to another country in the autumn – it will be an equally exciting time for her as it will be for me: she’s headed to Hong Kong, which sounds like an amazing place to go live for a year.

Sometimes, by taking a deep breath and stepping out into the scary fray, you find yourself entering a whole new phase of life. I’m a big fan of change – it does you good to shake things up, if you can, and gain new life experience.

Karma’s a bitch, but Fate’s my faithful mate.

Desperately seeking…

I’m going to tell you a little story. Are you sitting comfortably? Good.. then I’ll begin.

Once upon a time, a gal was walking out of a local supermarket, weighed down with shopping bags, wandering up the stairs in a vague reverie. It was a bright sunshiney Sunday, the leaves were out in green and there was a sweet smell of spring in the air, all mixed up with the car exhaust fumes.

She’s wandering up the road, when she hears rapid footfall and a plaintive male voice going, “excuse me”, “excuse me”.

She turns around and a not unpleasant looking chap is standing there all wild eyed and slightly panting. He’s stocky, early thirties, light eyes, short cropped brown hair… and looks not unlike Mel Gibson’s chunkier younger brother.

“Uh oh” she thinks.

“What’s up? Did I drop something?” She asks, practically.

“No.. no.. not at all” he says in a drawl not entirely Scottish, partly American, partly who knows what.

Cue the winning smile. “I just saw you – and I think you’re really cute.”

“Oh” she says – taken aback a little, whilst little tinkle bells in the back of her head go dingle dangle warning sound. (She ignores them for the moment).

“Are you single? I mean, uhh – are you with someone?”

“mm.. not at the moment,” she muses. (Bells are still gently tinkling away).

“Well, uhh, I’d like to see you – maybe we could go out? Can I take your number?” Confident, boyish charm starts to ooze out like slowly squeezed toothpaste, all stripes and shine. Just like his shirt in the brightening sunshine.

She eyed his single gold chain necklace and pursed her lips.

“You’re certainly brazen… a nice enough trait in a man.. and I’ll give you ten outta ten for brassy effort. But I don’t give out numbers. I’ll take yours instead.”

So she did. And then smiled gently and said, “nice to make your acquaintance. I suppose I need a name?”

“Oh – it’s Joshua.”

“Well.. mine’s Jill.” she said, packing away her mobile and her smile.

“Are you gonna call me?” he asked, somewhat insistently as he walked backwards away down the road.

“I’ll think about it – I’ll text you”.

“Listen – are you free tonight? I could take you out to dinner.” The boyish charm is now flowing more like champagne on tap.

At this point the bells have now turned into a marching brass band, complete with cymbals and a full bass tuba.

“Not tonight.. I’m already doing something. I’ll text you.”

Of course, said gal was washing her hair that night. And she never did call. And she never did text. Why? All too fast, all too convenient, all too smooth… way too smooth.

Turns out I was right.

This evening I was in Gumtree Classifieds looking up listings for sales of electrical goods (I’m researching). I came across a random classified titled: ‘Looking for Joshua Walmsley’. Said gal is looking for a real charming guy by the name of Joshua, who was in his early 30’s and who had upped sticks from Edinburgh and disappeared (the naughty boy).

“Mm,” methinks. So I type the name in to Google, and oh boy, is Joshua a popular guy. “Desperately seeking Joshua”.. in Edinburgh, Reading, London, Preston…. He’s also a dead ringer for the chap I met. Bit of a heart breaker too – seems these gals are wanting to find Joshua real bad.

Oh, so a little more digging and we find a livejournal. The title is a classic: “Scotch Lethario”. Celtic cocktail anyone? His wonderful cv reads like the Man of Mystery: or rather a made up history of words to please and tease. A pro doc, a chocolatier, bar manager, ex-marine, ex special forces. Locations in “Edinburgh Or London Or Reading Or Manhattan Or Afghanistan Or somewhere classified – Pick one that sounds familiar.”

“Not liking to let people go

Before they have agreed to something

Without getting a number or a kiss or more more more

If they have seen the light and try to escape

Met you already….. somewhere.

Reminisce here.”

Josh hon… I’m reminiscing alright… I also did a lot of digging. It gets better.

Josh wasn’t Josh at all. In fact, Josh was previously Neil Anthony. Or Jamie. Take your pick.

A little more bloodhound style digging and I found a thread which revealed said chap started out in Preston as a con man, preying on single girlies, working them for their heartstrings and their purses.

He turned up in London, Edinburgh, and recently, Dundee and then back in Preston, working the girls with his valentine ops cons.

But most recently he ended up in Barrow police station. That was in late May: this week, to be exact.

So… like all good stories, I’ll round up with a nice nursery rhyme.

Little girls, this seems to say,
never stop upon your way,
never trust a stranger friend,
no-one knows how it will end
As you’re pretty, so be wise,
Wolves may lurk in every guise,
Now, as then, it’s simple truth,
sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth.

Sleight of hand (Il Bagatto 1)

The Magus smiled
and spread the cards -
pick any one:
the choice is yours

Take a look
then place it back
shuffle, split
the digits flit

now… concentrate:

cleverly
mystically
almost erotically

fingertips
slip
dance
trip
playfully
across the deck

a sly wink
in a blink
the blur of hand
cuts; deft

reaches, behind your left
ear
flashing your chosen
king of hearts
like a master of the dark arts
all wry smile and beguile
Le Bateleur
dalliant laughter
teasing banter
and sparkling eye

intonates a deeper
meaning here
he leans near:
“focus”
he whispers, close
as the hairs
on you neck
raise

Keep your gaze
on the card
not my hand
on my heart
all misdirect and distract

The art
of precision
manipulation
of circumstance
self confidence
divine immanence

Take these magical elements
and weave your own
fortune

Mastery of mystery
comes not from
card trickery
but the capability,
the ability to see
future reality
as it really could be
Grasp the Ace
and hold it tightly.

~

He tips his wide brimmed hat
smiles like a Cheshire Cat
whisks his cloak
and he’s gone
in a waft of smoke.

From all angles

Personality is a complex thing: we show different parts of ourselves and our varying tastes according to who we interact with. Perhaps I could liken it to being a many sided jigsaw piece – and when we interact with someone, some of our sides fit, and some don’t. For instance, if you have a love of genteel 1980’s folk rock and share that with one person – but you also have a lust for strong industrial electronic music too and share that with another person. You might adore sharing political chat over vintage wine in a posh wine bar, but equally with others you love sharing a pint of real ale discussing the merits of how your favourite football team managed to lose three straight games in a row.

What I find interesting is when our friends and acquaintances from different social and working scenes meet for the first time and interact. They may not ‘hit it off’ – conversely, they may get on famously well. I guess it’s how many common factors, personally, you share with these people. At times it is a revelation that they know the ’same’ person, because their knowledge and understanding of ‘you’ as a person, is different: ‘you’ have shown them different aspects of yourself, according to how well you fit with them and their personality and social aspects. Could this really be the same person they are discussing?

Some people might claim they are the same with everyone they meet, but I really think if you scratch the surface, you will see the undercurrents flowing – the different lusts and desires and wishes and wants and hates all tumbling along like debris in a fast flowing river. Even the most staid looking of people will have a number of secret passions. It is these desires or dislikes that shape our interactions with others. It just depends on what they like or dislike, and how well you fit: like your little jigsaw pieces.

But what I do enjoy, and find quite wonderful, is seeing others seeing ‘oneself’ in a different light – because that becomes growth in the relationship: a deeper understanding of a person’s dynamics – gaining a fuller, more whole picture and understanding of who and what it means to have a complex and diverse personality. It is also a dawning realisation that understanding a person in their entirety takes a long time and an openness to changing perception:  I am ever happy to see a new side to people I have long known.

I’m pleased to make your acquaintance: again.

oenophily

Squeeeeeeeeeal …thunk

the satisfying pop

of a cork

pulled

out the dew grained bottle

cold beaded pearls

slide in satisfied whorls

rivulets, graceful

mingled drops.. fall

as you tip .. and pour

plink, plink, plonk

the satisfied glug

of iced, chardonnay blanc

and little bubbles skitter excitedly

up the side of your glass in

sloshed frenzy

golden light liquid

a deliciously limpid

pool of pineapple, mango

and lemon fruit eau

de vie

du vin

sherbert dip piquant

tang of a kiss

with a slight, bite

clean, crisp

and a slight

flutter; a heady

rush of intoxy tipsy

dipso delight.

And a slight,

tingling, feeling,

of merry giggle

out of control

reeling

from drinking

that first, deep

draught

caught up in a cold

afterglow

slow

slow

quick

the alcohol

flows

to the blood

and a gradual flood

of endorphin

happy, hazy

lazy, fuzzy

feeling

gently

washes over

like a gold spring

splashing

gooseberry scent

dionysia content:

smooth, butterfly

flutterby bubbles

tickles

teases

pleases:

an oenophilic

idyllic

drink.

busy bee

smile at the honey bee

who flits from flower to flower

never staying long, drinking freely

as it flies the sunlit hours

Morning after

Tripity tippity cross creaking floorboards
like a ballet dancer teetering with no sound
tiny poppy red painted toe~wards
soft feet on hard wood, to safer ground

clutching crumpled rumpled clothing
holding breath; bottom bitten lip
she wobbles in the half lit door frame
half caught gasp, clasps her disheveled slip

he rolls, lightly unconscious: slow sonorous snores
shifts, settles, stretches: low mumble
dreams, lightly smiling, of the night before
she wrestles: unyielding fabric fumbles

playing silent hopscotch with stockings, and hitched skirt
teeth grasping, shoe straps dangling
as she buttons up her morning after shirt
low, but heavy breathing.. scanning

Got everything?
Forgot anything?
Wish she could:
Rueful thought

She peers down a darkened corridor, it’s unfamiliar
territory here.. vague drunken flashbacks
as she retracts, retreats, hastily eager
for fresh air and covered tracks

The morning girl after the night before, seeks a door,
not a man: not a complicated convo
over coffee chat about ‘me, you and the future’
she’s not romantically inclined, so…

She got her thing:
no strings
attached -
door, unlatched

And she’s gone.

Moving on

I’m going to quote an old, favourite book of mine: Illusions, by Richard Bach. It has a lot of simple insights in life, and could be called ‘new age’ – but I like to think of it as a simple story with a lot of good thought provoking quotes; one of which is:

In order to live free and happily, you must sacrifice boredom.

It is not always an easy sacrifice.

Humans are creatures of habit: we fall into routines, despite ourselves – we like our security blankets of the known and the safe, the things we do regularly, the people we accept as friends, as partners, the jobs we do everyday to earn the money to enable us to do the things we like to do: eat at a favourite restaurant, go to see the movies, a night in with loved ones , pizza and TV.

But are we really happy? Are we focused and engaged each morning that we get up, shower, brush our teeth, comb our hair, get dressed and hit the road to work? Morning coffee wake up, mid-morning water cooler chat, lunchtime sandwich, check the news, afternoon slog, evening hit the rush hour and home. Food, TV, book, bed. Maybe we mix it up every so often of an evening or weekend with a session at the movies.

We have commitments to family and friends and work.

We are incredibly habitual creatures: but the key thing is.. how often do we stop and ask ourselves.. is this what I want to be doing? Is this really the lifestyle I want? Are these the people I really want to be with? Is this the job I want to stay in? Do I even think about what will happen in a year’s time? In five years time?

Some things can not be changed – if you have children, then you obviously are long term committed to their future, so some compromises have to be made to lifestyle. Support is essential. The same goes for dependent family members who may be ill or fragile.

But it does not stop you from shaking things up every so often and saying: I want a change. I want to learn something new. I want to make new friends. I hate my job. I want to push myself further…

I think that letting go of habit, of boredom, the accepted routine is very hard for us to do. It scares us, and challenge is hard to deal with: but I think it is entirely important for us every once in a while to look up from the everyday drudgery and to try and tap into something different. Try a different route home. Read a new book that isn’t a standard crime thriller. Go on a weekend trip into the wild countryside instead of a shopping trip. Ask if that friend that’s not called you back for months is really worth the effort. Question the drip drip feed of reality TV being pumped down your cable – why not watch a natural history show? Ask if the work you are doing is satisfying you – and is there any way to move to something you do enjoy? Can you change even little things about the focus of your work.. can you move sideways instead of out?

I’m asking a lot of questions here, because I think that’s what we should all be doing. Constantly. Never live life on automatic; don’t sleepwalk your way through it. Measure your life by the changes, however small, that you mark your steps by. Regret is the feeling of loss of never having followed your desires and instincts – of having let go and fallen to apathy and impotent acceptance.  There is a need to move on, to break out of old routines and expectations – but by actively thinking, being engaged in the now and in control.