Communication breakdown

Strange. With all the technology available to us, we seem to be getting worse at talking to each other. Most people these days have a phone, email, the whole works. Yet what do we actually talk about? Is it just me or is it that much harder to express certain things using such impersonal tools? I've being doing a lot of talking via email, text message and instant message of late, but I always walk away thinking I have missed something. That feeling of seeing someone's reaction to the things you say, the spark that can fly when a conversation really takes off. Instead I seem to have fragments. A thought here, another there. Many things said, but somehow incomplete.

A new day

Waking up, the snow has all but disappeared leaving only a few specks of white by the roadside. As a look out of my window I see people all wrapped up going about their daily lives, rushing back and forth from one place to another, oblivious to my presence.

Now there is only one day left in 2005, less than twenty four hours before a new year begins. Looking back the year has been momentous for me in so many ways, some good, some bad, but things have certainly changed. The question now is what does 2006 hold?

Snow under foot

After several hours the snow stops, leaving a cold winter landscape behind it. You could describe the scene in many words, but beauty seems to be the most appropriate. But now the snow begins to melt, leaving only slush behind. Where, just a few hours ago there was beauty, now there is nothing but a moment in time slowing melting away.

A moment

Last night I almost did something. Nothing bad I don't think, perhaps even something good. But I didn't do it. I wanted to, but for some reason I couldn't. Now the moment is just a memory, slowly fading into the past.

Love Poem

Beyond watching eyes
with sweet and tender kisses
Our souls reached out to each other
In breathless wonder

And when I awoke
From a vast and smiling peace
I found you bathed in morning light
Quietly studying
All the messages on my phone

Source: Banksy

Sadly, I've been guilty of this of late (slightly different context but the same intent). All I can say is sorry.

Post Christmas observation number 1

In my Christmas card from my brother I was amazed at the sign off. Instead of the traditional 'From Phil' this year I had 'Love, Phil'.

I would have almost fallen off my chair, if I had been sitting on one at the time. After 32 years, my brother is transforming into someone else. What is next? Taking up yoga and preaching the benefits of free love?

In any case, I'm happy. He's happy at last and there is nothing wrong with that.

Voices behind bars

Whilst doing the normal Christmas thing today I remembered an article I read in the Guardian a couple of days ago, on prisoners writing poetry. Reading their poems, I see a particular resonance in their words, especially at this time of the year - a time when you take so many things for granted; your family around you, your friends, food on your table, and above all, your freedom.

At the same time, it is deeply depressing to realise that so many people are denied these things and that much of society is happy to throw away the key and let them rot for all eternity. I'm not religious, but it seems many people who claim to be Christian, don't seem to practice that very Christian act of forgiveness. Perhaps even worse, people seem so stupid not to realise that just locking people up doesn't solve the underlying reasons why they committed crime in the first place.

Hopefully if people read poems like these, they might change their narrow views at least a little bit, but I hardly think the Daily Mail will be in a rush to publish them.

Words but no sound

Conversation moves from one topic to another, long forgotten names from the past are mentioned. But all I see are the moving lips. The sound does not reach my ears. The substance is lost on me. Instead I read and allow my mind to wonder.

Fear of change or rather the fear of not changing

Wondering around Bristol over the last day or so, talking to my friends and family, has made me realise a few things. If I was to sum up my state of mind at present I would say I'm scared. Scared of what happens next in my life. Before I thought this was a fear of change, part of me resisting and wanting to revert back to the old me. But the more I think about it, the more I think that the fear is that of not changing. I know what I am like, I know there may be a natural slide back to the old ways. I just have to resist.

Bristol

I'm back with my parents and things haven't changed since the last time I was here, or probably for as long as I can remember. At least things haven't changed with them. So I'm being treated like a child once again, am being made endless cups of tea and being generally well looked after.

The problem is that I think I have changed in recent months. Whereas once I would have been content to let things carry on as normal, now I'm not so sure. Part of me is finding it suffocating just being here. I want to be having real conversations about real things, something that my family doesn't excel at. I really see where my lack of communication comes from. I feel guilty about saying all this, but it is true.

Of course, I want to be somewhere else, with someone else. But I know that isn't possible and that it wouldn't be a good idea even if it was. But that doesn't make the feeling any less real. I feel guilt about saying this as well, but I know I need to say it.

So instead I sit here, writing this. Another 'random' thought from me. I'm not totally sure why I write these things, but it allows me to say things that I find harder to speak. I've now just got to build up courage to start saying them out loud as well.

Home is where the heart is

Strange. I'm now back in London and things feel so different.

Where once this was my home and I felt so natural here, now it feels so different. I've met some friends already, had a nice beer, done the usual stuff. And more will follow over the coming days. There are so many people here I want to see, people who I have missed over the last few months. A chance encounter on the street brings it back. I'm told about how a close friend is getting on and I realise that it is all news to me. To be honest I haven't been very good at keeping in touch. And that is something I regret.

But there is still else, something deeper, amiss. 6 months may not be a long time in the grand scheme of things but in a city like this it is an eternity. New bars have replaced old ones, new building have sprung out of nowhere.

I now feel like a stranger here. Almost like the first time I came here with my parents many, many years ago. I would stare at the buildings, all the people and the sheer size of the place. Only now I am a little bit taller.

Has London changed or is the change actually within me?

Departure

Goodbyes said, bags packed, passport ready.

I'm coming home.

Moments

A moment by the door, then in the lift, finally at the station. Feelings rushing through me. Happiness, fear, desire, confusion. What do they mean and where do they lead us? We will see, but I don't regret any of them.

Exotic places

Cape Town, New York, Johannesburg... the places roll off the tongue so easily. Escapism from a cold grey day in Geneva. Instead I have London tomorrow...not as exotic I know but it's home.

Pint anyone?

The long goodbye

Less than 4 hours remaining now.. my heart beats in tune with the ticking clock.

Touch

Being English I've got used to a lack of physical contact in my life. When it happens it is often either forced or formal. A firm hand shack is about as close as it gets. Perhaps my Englishness is an excuse (I think it is) but I'm really missing those moments of contact. With those you love and those whose paths you cross. Walking down a street and slowing taking a hand in yours. A gentle touch on the shoulder to show you care. Feet just lying there waiting to be tickled. A cuddle to signify the warmth you feel. The sense of another breath as it comes into contact with your skin. An embrace. A kiss... those endless moments when you cease to be one and become something more.

The view

I try not to look, to stare. That would be too obvious. Instead I catch a glimpse, a fleeting sideways look. That is allowed I think. And then I smile. Again, I try to keep it to myself. This isn't a normal situation. I have to let things happen in their own time. See where they take me.

Do I succeed? I'm not the person to ask.

Fleeting moments

The clock is ticking on our time together. A long pause approaches and I'm scared. I want to stop the clock so that these moments don't end.

Conversations

There was an old advert for British Telecom featuring Professor Stephen Hawkings in which he says, via his computerised voice, 'It's good to talk'. I kind of took this for granted, but of late I've begun to appreciate it's true meaning. For so much of the time in our lives we don't talk, or at least don't talk about the things that really matter. I know I've been very guilty of this. My conversations would be about the banal, everyday events of life; sport, television, work, flats. You know, the usual. In fact I'd talk about lots of things, except the one thing I really should have been discussing: feelings. Of late, this has changed, and now I want to explore my inner thoughts, my desires, where my life if going and where I want it to go. And I feel much better for that.

Last night it continued. I said some things that I'm glad I said. I don't know what the outcome will be, but whatever happens I don't regret what I said. I'm being honest and I think that is well overdue.

Consumerism

Hundreds, if not thousands, of people scurry around me like ants. Old and young, men and women, of every nationality, colour and background. The working week is over (for most) and now time to savour the life that we have. Yet where do we go? What holds our fascination and transfixes us like a hypnotist's watch? Shopping.

I merge into the crowd, becoming just another ant. Old books, brand new washing machines, potted plants, oriental artifacts, clothes accessories, pay to have your picture taken with 'father Christmas'. Signs everywhere, all with the same message 'Buy, buy, buy'. And the underlying, message is, of course, buy me and you will be happy. You think happiness is gained by love, companionship, being at peace with yourself and others? How quaint! Happiness is gained by spending your money, buying things you don't need or want. Buy that DVD and you are happy, buy that picture and you are joyful, buy that sofa and you are on the verge of transcending this plane of existence and finding nirvana.

If religion is the opium of the masses, then consumerism must be the crack cocaine. And we are all serious addicts who can't get off the stuff.

In short, we're fucked.