The moment

I'm cold, thirsty and I need a piss. Else I'm happy. But I know if I go and meet these bodily requirements that I won't be able to get back to this place again and I rather like this place. Although I'm wandering off. Maybe I just need to go and sort these thing out and if I'm able to keep going and come back, then that will be fantastic.

I never did get back - I went downstairs and Jack woke up and I was needed as Mum.

Reflections on a night out

I have tasted a delicate piece of freedom. Yet my need for expression is not fulfilled. I watched the dancers and I wished I could join them. I wished I was still thin. More than anything, I wish I was still thin.Yet I know these insecurities dogged me when I was thin. Although I look back on these times through rose tinted glasses, it was a mess of depression and alcoholism. Paranoia and extreme stress.

I felt lucky tonight. Lucky to have been brought up musically, that I've been given the means to understand some deep subconscious link in music. It is not something I can recreate, although I wish I could. But I can in my mind - the singing of the instruments sends me off on a beautiful journey.There was something in the music tonight that I wanted to capture. I remember wishing I had brought my notebook with me, but thought it was anti social as I was going out with my Mum. I also berated myself for wanting to record an experience when I should have been experiencing the moment, swaying , caught in the wave of music.

Freewriting to music again

I love this song. This song is so regretful. It is nostalgic but contains almost all the elements. Earth, wind and fire. Passion and emotion. I wish I could write like this music with this purity, this clarity, this subtlety. And I've never been subtle, always did favour the big plodding Tank Girl boots, staming down on everything.

Yet this is also broken and weak, vulnerable with almost a sense of pity.

Regret. Wouldn't it be better if we forgot regret? But doesn't it also teach us valuable lessons? Little treasure to never repeat but will always make our ears burn.

Seen the light. I see the light. Halleluiah. Lord be praised. Except there isn't any light except the blinding glare of the search light. Traped in the headlights. Trapped. Entombed. Netted. Apprehended. Arrested. Incarcerated. Always incarcerated.

I haven't thought about my novel in ages - too much else to do, although I know later that I'll be able to concentrate on it if that's still what I want to do. I think it is although I'm not sure about the musical device although I do still like it. I'm just not sure how well it is sustained.

I don't know where Molly is on her journer. I can't feel what's in her head. I can't get inot a place where I feel right although I know I'll get there in the end.

And I've got quite a lot of stuff on my mind at the moment which really doesn't help. I wish I could shift some of it. I'm not feeling the same levels of anxiety which I felt pre medication but there're defiinitely bubbling away under the surface and I'm not sure that I'm not just repressing them and that they're going to jump up and attack me.

Random writing from a few weeks ago

I can't relax because I'm still obsessing over my arrest. Old habits die hard. And I supose it's because I haven't had to deal with theat level of vulnerability for over a year and I think I'd forgotton hom much it takes out of me; that ti still takes it out of me and that the break hasn't helped me deal with anything.

I'm glad I took part in the action. I'm gladI was able to support. And yes I still feel achy and bruised, but I managed to get out of bed and show some resistance and the reality is that the price isn't that big (although I'll remind myself of this in a few months if I'm charged and facing prison!).

I'm feelin glfay and dry and slightly adrift. I want to reign my head in but it feels bloated and won't fit through the gap in the railings. I watched 999 Rescue a few years ago about a young gail who fell whilst climbing some railings and the spike penetrated her cheek and she was stuck there with the railing through her cheek until the emergency services could cut her free. I still see this image.

I punctured my foot on a railing at the Israeli Embassy a few years ago. We were climbing the fence and I hadn't realised how thin my canvas shoes were. I remember trying to hobble away fast enough as the cops drew the batons and luckily made contact with my bag rather than my skull.