L

It struck me the other day that even after a year out here, there are still work colleagues whose faces I have not seen without masks on. Arriving in the middle of the pandemic, masks were required in all public spaces - and rigorously enforced - with more than a few people cited for either having theirs pulled down or not wearing one as they approached the security gates and barriers that dot the landscape. Only when I then see a face without a mask does it register that I have made up the hidden contours, seeing the mask as an integral part of these faces. This brings with it a mild sense of discomfort, stemming from - I think - the fact that even though I have built relationships and friendships with these people, their uncovered faces scream unknown rather than familiar. ...

Image Source I catch myself sighing - Laboured breath held, And then expelled Like the unsteady, Weary chug of a steam Locomotive as it drags Its weighty backsides Up a steep incline. My dreams, a hurried, Harried concoction Of fevered, whispered Half phrases and fearsome Visions of a searing inner fire Haunt me, my mind Slowly numbed by the intense, Unforgettable clarity of a growing insanity And the delirium of delusion. The first time I saw you You were a distant- blob of light, bright pink, shimmering red, blazing sun- shine, driving dirty, grey snow into the corner of Kings and Guilds. Between there and here Is something irretrievably broken a gangrenous, festering sore That refuses to heal, its ochre Colour, the colour of dried blood. I catch myself sighing, Laboured breath held And then expelled slowly Like a puff of cigar smoke. But in the distance, Like a storm cloud bringing rain after a drought Is the redemption of the forget-ting

Definitely blown, and I think at its core the failed dalliance was of my own making in being too keen. Given the year I’d had - with close on 18 months without any interest in females as I sought to deal with the lingering wounds and the fall out from the last serious relationship - I suppose I could be forgiven for letting go too quickly when a smart, attractive young woman who ticked all the critical boxes suddenly came into the picture. I’d sworn I was over E a year ago, but not until the fates conspired to bring L my way did the realisation that I had grossly understated the extent of the pain I still was in sink in. ...

Thankful for: Progress with Mum’s health. Got sucked into an emergency surgery but by all accounts she’s getting close to the all clear. Progress on two main job chasing fronts - CNRL & Maersk. Fingers crossed! Finally reaching a place where I am slowly weaning myself off my intense fixation on L. Three day work weeks, and options aplenty to pick and choose form. Bring on the harvest dear God!

Between too many cooks - my friend OO was overly keen to play match maker and may have spilled too much information - and my being a little bit too keen for meetups and hangouts, my girl crush might have been spooked :( I do need my life back - the controlled, spread sheet driven, ordered experience that it used to be, not one filled with long nights tossing and turning, pondering innumerable what-ifs and why/why not my messages have not been replied….. ...

Delirium, for the We Write Poems prompt Osmosis; You catch her eye on the corner of King's and Guild's, rush of bright pink, blush. Gaze, furtive. A coy smile works its way across her face, before she disappears. A bird, startled as by a twig snapped underneath the lumbering feet of her unwary hunter- Half dream, half mirage, half stolen, garbled- fairy tale. You feel the fever- dry skin, throbbing head. Unrequited memory like the force of a hammer against rock, a blunt axe, Patagonian rosewood, a caged bird, tethered to it's roost. Your siren's sung- her half song, half lure. And like five bowstrings plucked till worn- all you have is the unsated thirst of your delirium.

Canada: The country after my heart, thanks to stumbling on a description of the low population, arctic in Kurt Koch’s demons and Demonology. Problem is the relatively high entry cost for me - uprooting myself from my life of the last three years, loss of income and the costs of chasing further studies required to break into that part of the world. A girl: The girl I think I like enough to, in the words of Clay Christensen, devote my life to making happy; and who has only just moved to Aberdeen and is adamant she’s got a two year plan before she buggers off to Nigeria. ...

I think I have a crush. …… And what is perhaps most disconcerting about the waxing and waning of this particular attraction is just how atypical its advent has been. For one she is well and truly outside the +/- 2.5 year band that I once swore to live and die by… And perhaps most importantly, the sum of our interaction over the last one month, one week and six days has been fifteen emails, five phone calls and one handshake; hardly a compelling oeuvre for a bloke whose standard MO - bar the not exactly happily-ever-after spring mis adventure from 2009 - has primarily been based on weighing pros and cons, extensive googling due diligence and incremental engagement rather than a full on pursuit. ...