You act as inspiration but not one for madness, unless it be a
devine kind 
I read some other parts of your blog and your feelings on friendship entwined among them...
I wish I could engender those sort of deep friendships, Although
i can make 'friends' quite easily I often feel my character must have come out of a****nsian Novel,
"I'm always staring in through the frosted window at the warm living room harth and the company there in",
It seems that I engender in my self a kind of stand-offishness
with people, each foot in different camps.. One seeking the happy blessings of 'family' the other wanting to roam the wild border lands of the unknown.. away from the affairs and pettiness of the human play.
Some years back, christmas eve while every-one was celebrating
for celebrations sake i had to take myself off into solace and stillness of the night, I stood like a statue as the snow began to lay, the cold iced air sharpening my conciousness into a
desireless diamond drawing down the stars and the moon. And just breathing in the sky and eternity.
I stayed like that for an age, before having to return 'home',
The colors and conversation in the living room seemed odd my family overly drawn characters from one of those yule tide biscuit tins, the contrast of colours having to 'think' there way
into each succesive moment and the sophaurific Heat from the room
opiated my mind…..
I'm looking out of my window which affords a view of neatly stacked houses, The layout and ambiguity of the streets with
their uniformity imposes a natural curfew - not a soul to be seen. And this patchwork of quite desperation stretches out in front of me counter-pointed by the jaundice of street - lamps, every inch of it smells of municipality - the public spaces cleared of the public – the wild places tamed.
This century is for all its achievements a most myopic century, The great striving and spirit
Of humanity have all been franchised, incorporated and syndicated out to the highest bidder.
I fear that the great Themes have all but played themselves to exhaustion
And were living in their wake
In the sanitized culture of “White sliced bread” land and the “Theme” Park immaculate.
Commenting by HaloScan
