Muddled Madeleine, 26 October 2000

There must be a reason why its impossible to organize these correspondences chronologically. Perhaps they are meant to be read like a stichomancy. Even muddled up they somehow, don't not make sense.

No apologies for the non linearity of our lives...

x

harper so distant
if i were persistent
which i am not
your shirts
you'd have got.
but i'll put that to rest
with my awfullest best
to post it again
to you most tolerant of men.
i'm a sorry excuse
for a girl of no use
the parcel needs packing
thats where
it is lacking
so they sent it back
for me to pack.

its diwali today
and the city's all gay
i've got a cold
and i growing old
is it true that your coming?
or are you just bumming?
banares twice
should be quite nice
but i have to plan
a cameraman
and be on my toes
in video pose

my intrinsic laze
and sleepy gaze
need to be shaken
or my life will be taken
before my eyes
by the next sunrise
its a wonderful job
i should not be lazy
and if that be the case
i'm certainly crazy.

we partied last night
with music and drink
there's much happening around me
but i seldom think
which is more important
to think
or to act?
i cannot do both
and that is a fact.
what is the cure
to being usnsure?
where doth hide strength
along which length?
where do dreams hide?
when you want them by your side?
i'm looking for something
to take me by the hand
looking for a clue
as to where i stand.
my drifting nature
is loosely wandering
and its no surprise
the time it is squandering.

my profession is tough
and it can be rough
my mismanaged brain
a constant strain.
i always wonder
if i can live up
to my idealism
in a small tea cup.
i function by default
with no definite will
all my desires
are fairly still.
they don't initiate
any purpose or meaning
and a lack of passion
is the general feeling
its not even depressing
its just as though
i'm all dressed up
but don't want to go.

if i could be quiet
and reserve all space
for understanding,
absorbing grace
then life might be less
of a mystery
and maybe my confusion
would be history.

such endless rambling
is my favourite way
to escape meaning
with the things i say.

in such irresolution
and sinking state
i'm looking for
a sort of gate
that lets me through
this maze of non-thought
and guides me out
of this hazy plot.

and you i trust are
enlightened somewhat
with acidic visions
that you had got.
write to me longer
on growing stronger
and other debates
of chance and fate.

love
madeleine