Whip me, I'm a slack blogger.

Six weeks have sneaked up on me and grabbed me in a headlock, and only this evening i learnt how to deal with one - a sweet little thumb into the point below the curve of the jaw, under which runs the carotid artery.. hm, i digress.

in december, an incredible sparky talented beautiful girl, whom i have known intermittently for some years now and recently concluded i love very much, flew over to england and hung out with me for close to three weeks. we went to paris and amsterdam, and.. look, it's a long story, and deserves a post of its own. heck, a novel of its own, complete with thinly disguised autobiographical characters. but in sum, deciding to get into a long-distance relationship when you've both had bad experiences of it in the past - bad = not worked out - and when 48 out of 50 people you know have too.. well, foolishness and guts make the world heart-shaped. i think i've evolved as a person enough to finally actually want to be with one person. this wasn't how i was for many years. i wasn't a bedpost notcher but i did have the 'heartbreaker' tag chucked my way a few times. i just did not want the committment. i wanted to go where i wanted, do what i wanted. now, i think i have made peace enough to want to be with one woman. trouble is, it's a process of natural unforced evolution, and i don't reckon she's there yet. love is there, yes, but it is the brick.. you need more than that to make the cement. so - patience it is. wait. see. forgive. understand. learn. talk. talk. talk. can i do it? methinks. do i want to? fuck yeah. i know it's going to be hard. i used to tell myself, a hundred times, long distance is just not worth it. too much heartache. an empty space where a loved one should be.. and how much can you humanly love an empty space? but if we don't try, if we don't face our fears and climb our rockfaces, how the fuck will we ever know better? The indefatigable writer of sappy love poems WT says "in the fullness of time, you only end up getting fucked." That may be true, sir, in fact it's almost guaranteed.. but i'd rather have ridden my motorcycles how and where i have than still have my two front teeth and unbroken skin. as uncle M used to say, enjoy the wind in your hair, while you still have hair.

in a completely unrelated paragraph, i recommend this graphic novel to all and sundry: Jimmy Corrigan - The Smartest Kid On Earth, by FC Ware. Brilliant stuff. Also recommended is the film Broken Flowers, starring a superbly deadpan Bill Murray, which I saw a few months back and thought i'd write about but - of course - never did. Whip! Whap!!

my kung fu training is coming along. unfortunately for one reason or another, i've put in just about 25 hours over two months. grr. but i've just signed up for the advanced program, 3-5 years long, which gives access to upto 12 hours of training a week. even in these couple months i can see the improvement. in simple things like more stamina, quicker punches/blocks, remembering the forms and drills. there's still the fucking sahara to cross before i can actually inculcate this enough to actually 'be' a martial artist, but hope springs eternal in the human boob. who knows - one day be an instructor, perhaps? give up the desk job? all digits crossed.

i've decided i'm getting tired of my job. want to make the move to london and a proper big-ass paper/mag/publishing company. so, CVs have been going out (another reason for the tardy blogging) and i hope something works out in the next 3 months (my self-imposed deadline). i love london - all my friends are there - the salaries are bigger - the life is buzzier. i also know the colour-shifting properties of grass, and the good things about my current location. but sometimes a man's gotta do what he's gotta do. (all those who said 'wake up and scratch his nuts' raise your hands..)

lots more to post - events, pictures, reflections, happenings, observations, links - but won't, so i actually have the urge to blog again soon. i will i will i will.

and to all of you who actually checked on me regularly over the past forty-odd days.. bless your little cotton socks. you rock.