Living for Fabulous

Life has its ups and downs.

mostly downs though.

That awful, all consuming feeling of hopelessness, of not being good enough, of exclusion and failure. All mixed together in a shattered wineglass and downed in a mouthful of splinters. Thoughts of death accompany every millisecond, in these dark days.

But the ups, are they not truly the things we pine and live for?

Frangipani fairy lights and wacky tea-cosys, stripey socks and crazy hats I'm too shy to wear.

Cruising old Arcades in Auckland city, the musty scent of second-hand book stores, paper, ink and old binding glue.The clink of coins in a charity tin, buying a tee-shirt to "support the cause"

Falling eighteen stories at eighty-two km/ph, six times, in a row, just for the hell of it.

Terrifying and beautiful.

Lighting an old news paper and holding it until the flames come too close; then dropping it on the concrete and watching as the flames slowly lick around the edges before comsuming the thin strips of dead tree, poof

I live in a dying world, in a life I do not want;
but until the day comes,
when I'm allowed to leave this world

tommorow sounds good
as does
being
fabulous.