The end and the moon

My grandad is out of the hospital
Now he has to cheer himself up
Create something new from the past in his head

And then my friend got married
The weekend just passed
There she was in white and beads
And I couldn't recall seeing her in white before
All I could recall was our friendship, a couple years ago,
When things were different
When we used to hang out
When we used to speak more than the blue moon shone
And then she was off on her honeymoon
With her new husband and her new life
And a promise to catch up before mine.

I can start it soon, I'm all clear
It has started to hit me now - it's near, fuck It's almost here...
The dominoes being layed
When I walked into his office and resigned
I'm light now, tetherless

And I'm thinking of what I'm dropping
And leaving behind
The people, and their choices (the profound ones they have to make)
Their changes (the ones I make for them and the others they face)
And the separation between us -
But how it's bridged by our voices, and thoughts and memories
And when I look at the moon
Perhaps I'll see them reflected in it.

Music

Which beat do you dance to?
My grandad's would be a drum. Struck hard, not too fast. No trappings. Just pushing its way through everything, drowning out everything.

(Mine would be broken, tricky, shifting, ecclectic.)

And I listended to my grandad as he lay in his hospital bed. After he berrated me for coming to visit him at 2.50, 20 minutes after visitng hours began and even though he was awake.

(But you don't upset a sick man. You don't try to drown out a drum)

And I couldn't be callous as he told me to think of the future and look for a girl who isn't dodgy. Who will look after me and my family, who will be responsible with money. To really look, and not be blinded by beauty.

(And you can't argue with love. With logic from a different context)

And I bit my lip as he referred to my grandmother as "my wife". As he asserted ownership and control...as he said "..never mind beating, I would have killed her if she was my wife" as he recounted the story of a dodgy girl who ran away from a good boy.

(You can't bark louder than a loud dog barking. the beat of the patriarch.)

What do you do when your beat clashes with another?
What can you do but indulge someone who is sick. Someone who's sacrifices meant you could have life. Someone who's seen war, history, and a world I never will.

What do you do when your cog doesn't fit the machine constructed around you? When you want to scream out you are different. That you don't want to oblige the established. When you want to tell the truth.

(Truth as a circuit braker - stops the music. Starts the cacophony).

Will I be embraced for not confirming?
My granfather paints a picture of my future. As he lays in the bed.

Property.

Children.

Sacrifices made for the kids.

(When you follow the line....the dower is yours.
And when you don't?).

He speaks his mind. I hold myself back. In his mind he is right. In his world he is right. And I can't change that. I can't blame him for that.

Mine's different. All I can do is be tolerant, and quiet. discrete.

Separate. Unassuming.

And hope that he comes home soon.

A Fine Romance

We both should be like a couple of HOT tomatoes...but your as cold as yesterday's mashed potatoes.

I may as well play Bridge with my old maid aunts...I haven't got a chance. This is a fine romance!

You're calmer than the fish in the Atlantic Ocean. At least they flap their fins to express emotion.

This place is over for you.

Sadness mixed with excitment.
Makes me toss and turn,
And sometimes when I sleep,
It's turbulant.
I make myself doubt it will happen.
I put obstacles in my way. I wander
In my head
And wonder why I get impatient
In my head
I should just let it go as it pleases.

Almost away; Already not here

So, the countdown begins. Without trying to sound too dramatic about it all...but how can I not dramatise it all. Such a big big move...such a major change. And I am quite scared. And I still cannot quite fathom the possibility of it all; that it IS actually about to happen. And what will happen once it does.

Booked my ticket yesterday. 13 April 2004 is moving day. It's like I've now put a downpayment on this life change. So final now. In these last few weeks of being in Sydney, it's almost like I am not a resident here anymore...not being able to commit to anything long-term; not being able to enter into any relationships; not bothering to meet new people. It's about closure now. Getting things in order...or perhaps "mothballing" is a better term - less terminal. But no, being in another place does not mean things here will freeze. I will change, people here will change and it will be very interesting to see how my connections to these people and to this city changes...