nothing is without light.

So I'm on BBC radio, I'm in the newspaper, it's alright by me, I feel at home there. Is that arrogance or stuipidity? Perhaps both, but anyway trying to keep up with light isin't easy. Every morning I lift up my little baby Ezekiel, carry him around and we look at pictures and play music together. That's how it's going to be now, no matter when money runs out, when money runs into my strange bank account.
I thought about this, that we are now becomming who we are meant to be. Through all the blurriness of youth, the romance of that lost generation naivity, the passion and possibilities of love and marriage, and now this. I wake up every day, pick up Ezekiel and go to the kitchen. My wife sleeps a little longer, her gentle face too pure for the morning's assault. I've never seen her so alive, so full of life, so soft and so complete.
Holding onto life like this, I can barely make out it's beauty and colours before it slips from my shaking hands. It's alright I guess. I guess that's why it's called days in orbit.
What else? I'm ready for something else. I tried to persuade Franny that we should all leave Norwich and go and live in some place I never heard of called Wigtown in Scotland, because in a book magazine some old book professor was renting it out for 6 months. But one look at my bank balance prooves this simply isin't possible. Not yet anyway. I spend hours trying to figure out the purpose of life. I know deep down it's simple, but I tend to get caught up in the random distractions and needles stuck in my arm. "Can't let the devil recognise me" as the song goes. I may well really end up preaching salvation in a little church someplace quiet.

http://www.maughansbooks.com