18 April 2006

A short trip to Coventry was probably just what the doctor ordered. God may have placed self sympathy next to despair like the medicine next to the disease, but then being in the heart of a family you don't really need that recourse. Just a place to get some love, some power and some resolve. It was certainly needed. Warwickshire is beautiful in the spring and good luck to Carol and Dave with their move. Back now in Amsterdam the back of the winter is finally broken and the twigs that rapped my bedroom window, like the claws of the reaper all winter have started to bud and brush more forgivingly against the pane. April.
Oh yes it's that time again. April. But now a different one, one informed by a little more cruelty. A little more of life. I think it is time to leave. I am beginning to discover the significance of leaving. I think that somewhere in my addled mind, dumbed and bludgeoned as is by new forces of life & death, a foetal concept still survives that can live and grow and bring, as if by chance, an extraordinary destiny to fulfillment. This remains to be seen. My heart still feels like a lump hammer. I am shirty with strangers in bars. I beat against these walls that I have built for myself, but together with others, complicit in their construction, still conspire to imprison and surround me. I'm packing a small bag. It's time to be going.

"Frisch weht der Wind  
Der Heimat zu.  
Mein Irisch Kind,  
Wo weilest du?"