Yellow Plastic Eggcup
Yesterday I had a moment of clarity which came from unearthing an old yellow plastic eggcup which I realised came from my childhood. Some momentary trauma connected the eggcup with a buried memory. Why do I keep all this crap? I often ask myself. I suddenly knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the answer.
To remember the things that were suppressed.
Sometimes it can be shocking remembering, though. You never know what will emerge.
Yesterday I shook a little, at the childhood violence I remembered that I had experienced.
I don't panic much, thankfully. After a while I was laughing, and I was so glad of the love I have in my life. On the surface, I'd been privately brooding a bit since getting back from Palestine, weighing up the salient elements of my life, and I've come to some conclusions this week based on practical as well as emotional considerations.
A little while back, I said I wanted to get into something real. I now know that process will be enabled by moving out of this trendy district of London months before I have been planning to do so. Today I went and bought storage boxes and GGF and I started looking at the map.
I awoke with another cold. London is for a change fucking freezing, and so is this place, as the boiler is busted, but I don't care now. We're going north.
4 Comments:
Looks like an insertable contraceptive device.
"If you're going to make an omelet ... you gotta break some eggs."
Good luck with the move, Double D.
How far North?
see you in oxford. poles rule, euro retro indie fash types suck
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