a lot has happened since I wrote that last post. a new city, a new job - fevered imagination run over like a meadow grazed all day by cows - dry remnant stubble of industrial coloured grass with the green being ruminated upon inside distant unimaginative bovine digestive tracts - or at least that is what the fear is. quite a leap, from here, to the obsessive serial comma rigour of an editorial life in shiny new age higher-ed textbook land. pica, track changes in Microsoft Word, oh how easily i capitalized that, and spelt capitalized with a z, since the s is more american and informal

there are still yearnings, the old blue, as ever, lingers - but it's all blunted somewhat by the intensity of the 'work that needs to be done'. The Larkin Aubade was prescient, in its own way.

and then there was a prince who would run up walls, swing with casual ease from ramparts miles above distant ravines, and would slay all them sand monsters conclusively with the dagger of time. a princess would look, glance, blink - elusively, mostly over the weekend.

and people, yes people, causing as much distress as ever, with a mind grown-up in now so far away idyllic, always green Assam wrestling with the people the city throws at you, like knives slashing through skin and the bleeding coming a minute away - an inexplicable, pre-teen shyness, yearning for attention, like a dog wanting to be patted, oh how i miss having a dog too

will it change for the better, this interlude, or is this the five act play? only through time is time conquered, prophesies Tiresias, muse to even the most deadened sky white as slate

and so we must forbear, and so we must