'tis a plague of flying words, I am plagued by flying words

Wednesday 29 September

Pick me said the clown with his big shoes on pick me and I’ll be a good captain.
I’ll trade in my shoes for a cap and a whistle and a dictionary of useful phrases.
I’ll guide us to ports that lie flat on the continent after steering through storms with my eye on the stars.
My fondness for whisky and climbing up ladders, my orientation and ability to chart courses, some attribute in vain to my extraordinarily bendy knees and while my inner ears are extremely flexible, I tell you straight, it’s the affinity I feel with the horizon that enables my marine aspirations and I trust will support my application for the helm of your good ship on its way round the leeward isles, stopping briefly for relaxation at the secondary harbours and once for refueling in Malacca.

in copious other ways
keep that feeling of suspended equilibrium when you're easily 90* from the hips and fingers interlinked, your arms create an arc, incrementally from your shoulder sockets.
this is one of the good things about having a body.
i recognise this feeling like i recognise waking up happy. what else this affecting stays with me?...nah come up blank.
walking in the light

constant hum

constant hum - little life giving things
tuesday 28 september

In the crying shame that everything seems to become when night falls, the cleanest of toothpaste mouths important, her tongue traces her teeth as she thinks.
Five of them and her parents. Four separate familiar fish skirting the boundaries. Four others in the champagne waves.
When they were over the vegetation they dived. The giggling and the rolls, over and between. She breathed deeply and dived, her hands by her sides now. Underneath the seaweed sac things, which, she knew when she saw them, came every year. When she breathed she saw the water skiers.
"Loo"k." And yes, in their noise, their rival agenda - Just don't make me ignore; warily smile; the latitude of hospitality. I'll see you when we get back. You'll see me all week. How can we have any sort of a nice time if we say hello?
And when they had talked it hadn't been about anything.
How important are the shells she brought home - all this filmy calcium pick-up. They sit in the car for years, these things.
All the food was laid out; it would be taken home again. Forgetting about it.
The dark reef drop.
Her father looking for ways to tell people off. He had an air that, if someone had been missing, the blue sky, the absence of wind, the ordinary, careless initiative would be sucked in and then the movie music mmmm the underscore. The paranoia and the deep blue sky.
We had fun. She smiles.
The big engines rocked their bones. She looked into the water and on top of the water, the personal horizon, in front of her.
Thoughtless or Hapless dropped into the middle water a grazed coke bottle, turquoised along the ridges.
Her eyes were shut and she squinted at where she was. Which, when morning came, would be always.