Warmth

Sometimes one needs to take positive action.

I have been working on the cabin, defending it against the wild winter winds and waves. The roof is sound and the gaps around the winter sealed. An old wood burning stove has been dragged across the shingle (and what a job that was) and connected to the old flue. A large pile of driftwood is drying to keep me warm during the bitterest and coldest days.

Inside, I have made a bookcase from old timber and filled it with old friendly volumes, fossils & minerals and the small number of odds & ends rescued from my childhood home.

I will be content here; snug by the stove yet free to burst through the door, run through the rain and plunge, naked, into the waves.

Strength

I need the strength and power of the waves I watched yesterday to wash me clean and awaken me:


I'm not sure I am ready for what I have to do but I will do it.

Somewhat Cast Adrift

Cast Adrift? So what do I mean by that? I wish I knew exactly but I am muddle-headed after a week where a mild bug has slowly and inexorably dragged me down to a place where my arms and legs are as heavy as lead. This is never a good place from which to take a level headed view and I should know better than to sit and mope right now.

The beach is truly deserted. I feel marooned and almost, curiously, redundant. Glorious solitude has become miserable loneliness and I certainly didn't see that coming. I pride myself on being self assured but my need for others has been exposed like a raw nerve in a tooth. It hurts. I didn't see that coming either.

Perhaps its time to stow my things and head on away from the beach for a while.. or, perhaps more sensibly, for good. I suspect that I was always an inlander at heart and that I should leave the strand behind with my head held high and some very happy memories to sustain me as I look back and dream of my life by the sea.

In the meantime, I will throw myself into my work and reflect.

Gloriously Alone

Alone on a vast expanse of beach and with the sun unseasonably hot on my skin,
I walked right out to the water's edge, undressed and threw myself in.


Then, still gloriously alone, I walked along the sand, arms out and cock-hard in the sun.

I made my mark...


...dressed, and walked back towards my life.

All At Sea

I am feeling lonely and drowning in a sea of work. I am also under the weather which is making it even more difficult to keep up.

Friends seem to be drifting away, perhaps no longer swimming the same deep water as me, and I am starting to wonder what it is, exactly, I am looking for in this life.

In some ways, I have never been as successful as I am now; at the same time, I have seldom felt as alone and that written by someone who has always defined himself as an outsider, one who walks along his own path. I sometimes confuse myself with these contradictions.

This will pass; it always does. The beach is always less crowded as the summer ends and I will soon be strolling along the water's edge wrapped in a warm coat and with a scarf around by neck and, knowing myself as I do, enjoying the wistful feeling that such a day brings.

I Miss The Kisses; I Miss The Bites

I have been standing and staring out to sea with little thought of where I go from here.

I crave a simple life. Twice in recent weeks I have intended to write the phrase "simple life" but have actually written "single life". This is not the case so the slip isn't Freudian, simply an error.

My life is anything but simple at the moment and the various demands on me eat away at my calm. My libido is strong and, in my uncaressed state, my concentration suffers until I lose myself in fantasies of giving restraint, delivering sensations of varying degrees of comfort/discomfort and closely observing the reactions to my efforts.

Then glorious release.

The Sounds Of The Sea

I love the sounds of the sea. Gentle waves hold me in soft sonic arms and rock me to sleep. But today I want to shut the world out and I sit cocooned by the sounds from my ipod.

Shared music is a comfort on a day like this; a suggested song or gifted tune is like a squeeze of the arm as I listen to the sounds and smile.