If I

Just checking

Oh. Where on earth do you begin, when you hold
cups and baths and baskets of
JOY
inside you?
On one hand you would like to shout it from the rooftops,
or the treetops, but then again, where are the words to describe it all?
I am not so great with words,
so the words fail me, (I suppose) and I
ache and smile and I say (with a lack of elegance)
I am happy, this feels beautiful.
Thank you sky, thank you light rain from tonight.

I am in New York, hence the joy, hence the drivel,
I have indulged.
In coffee.

It's made me fizz and turn in circles. Lovely circles.

Today I was in Williamsburg/Brooklyn. It was a warm place, I liked it very much. At the end of the day I stumbled across the fabled 'Clover coffee'. It switched me on and off and on and off like a light switch with OCD, or is that ODD?
I don't know.



(Update-this is the clover tile on the floor in the bathroom of the cafe where I found my first Clover Coffee. I liked the criss cross of it all. The place in question by the way is a great cafe called El Beit...



The black box on the counter is 'The Clover'.

I don't know how I became so obsessed about this...)





I do know, I won't be touching the Clover for some time.

(They ground the beans infront of me. I felt like I was watching some kind of performance piece. One that involved a finely tuned, polished metal machine).

I must go.

Otherwise I might end up putting you to sleep with my coffeeheart...

think I am going to pass out.

J O Y...

Do you ever find the feeling...

...that you might just melt, or ignite, steam or sway your way into your next chapter.

It might be surreptitiously beautiful
uncanny
or
serene

standing on a fine pink fracture
between fear and opaque j o y


Joy so thick
you cannot see through it.
It stains your imagination, with every colour.
It slips down your throat like thick cocoa,
warm, buttery
lip smearing.

Tonight I am happy - with more than a little help from my friends, and the feverishly lovely blue sky with it's partnered warmth cradling the last two days.

My nose slightly more freckled, my eyes tired and soft lined.
I am imagining a dance, with you. A dance that goes on and on through endless mingling streams of beat.
The beat asks for nothing more
than our invitation to accept

take to the floor
the night
the smile
that you might wear
as you pull me in and out, strong, tight, and tiger light.

I will be bent backwards, supple, supported by your strong arms and back and eyes.

You will circle my waist, I will circle your neck, your wrists
in bright painterly swathes
of lilac hip, forest green and volcanic reds.

Maybe you will take me to your room
for tea
as the beat pumps on
inside our shoes
and beyond
into some morning chink
in a curtain

I am yet to open.
In a room I am yet to walk into.

Into a dance I am on the cusp
of careering into.



{I am holding you up to the light. I am taking out my magnifying heart, reading your fine print}.

Colourclimb (the shelves, the walls are bare, and ready)

A few days of painting (walls)
taking down shelves
clearing cupboards
boxes
and thoughts.

It has been a dusting and a vacuuming of the heart. My home too finds itself slightly more organised.

I love clearing out old boxes in particular. You find things you never knew you even had.

I found these keys
and, being a pair, embellished with the number '30', looking such a pretty pair
I could not force myself (this time) to throw them into a loveless abyss.
So they found a cosy home, where they will no doubt be re-found and weighed up in another few years.

I am thinking that, if you clear enough 'stuff' away, out and about, you will only be making room, for ripe possibilities. Bare shelves will be filled with juicy whispers, joined at the hip hot spots.


Here are some more
coloursoups
I have been stirring









I am still filled to brim from my evening with Gemma Hayes. I have ordered my guitar tuner! Now I will be able to tune my instrument, all by myself. Yes, I marvel. To think I can do these things all by myself! (I hope I can understand the thing when it pops through my letter box...!)

Pat on the head
biscuit treat.

I am off to Folkestone Triennial this weekend with my dear friend Rod. We are running a train marathon, and intend to take in every work, whilst making some lamppost work of our own (I'll put the pictures up as soon as we have completed our task)...

Here is a work I am very much looking forward to seeing.




'Tales of space and time' by ArtMagic couple Heather and Ivan Morison.

It was the description that got me:

"Attracted by Folkestone’s connection with H.G. Wells, the Morisons have constructed a mobile Science Fiction library in the style of a 1970s Californian House Truck.
Made popular in America during the Hippy movement, these house trucks, similar to Gypsy caravans, are a symbol of freedom and a nomadic self-sufficient lifestyle. Following this tradition the Morison's version is hand built using Douglas fir from their arboretum in Wales onto a 1955 Green Goddess, ex army fire engine.
Inside, the truck houses hundreds of Science Fiction classics as well as soft sci-fi furnishings. It is staffed by a local Science Fiction enthusiast.
A series of related talks will be held throughout the summer. The house truck will be a base for a discursive forum where alternate possibilities, time and space can be speculated"

W.O.W

feast of my eyes + brain + heart = creation sensation

Until then
stay warm
and keep out of the rain
or in it
if it makes you feel beautiful.

Electric gentle

Just back from having seen and heard the lovely Gemma Hayes at my very tiny local venue. What a sublime treat. It was a beautiful night. Just me, a g&t and Gemma hypnotising my heart. Yet again.

It was possibly the most perfect night.

My eyes welled. My soul was spread with J O Y. It was all meant to be,

just
as
it
was.

More on this tomorrow.
I am slow but beautiful,
and calling, crawling for bed.

Winged wine dreams.

This is Cat Man! (Bon Iver)

Forgot! This was the beautiful picture. I just had to share it with you.

oH!

I forgot to mention...
today I found Bon Iver!
What!? Where on earth have I been?

I was looking for a picture of Barry White for Rod, and somehow, somehow, this very sweet picture of a man with a cat (like my cat Rollo!) came up. I thought, mmmm. He's pretty.

So I clicked on his face.

I was shocked and sublimely suprised to discover that he had a name, that other people knew. Lots of other people. I listened to his music, and it
suddenly
it added to the feeling of kicking colour.

Especially his story- of going to live in the forest for three months, to just *be*, and alone.

I feel like I want to do that.
Take a big suitcase full of art materials, woolen jumpers and my guitar.
No mirrors. Let my hair get a bit wild. Feel clean in rivers
and simple.

None of this junk
lying around my flat.
None of this work, which only reminds me of yesterdays.

I think I am ready to fly.

Flowers in the heart

I sit down infront of my computer too much. It eats at my eyes and makes me tired, pale blue in all the wrong places.

Today, I have a beat in my chest, or should I say, my solar plexus. Everything is
odd
and beautiful at the moment.

The sun just slotted through my shutters. I should really let it in.

I am *very* hopscotch excited about something. But I do not know what, I only have snail small inkling...
it is so light and dancy inside my soul and
I love it,
but I am scared, and trying not to be

Where will this take me, where will I go next.

When everything changes
what are you meant to do next?