20 April 2015


There's some place to pick the narrative up.
Then the devil taketh him up into the holy city, and setteth him on a pinnacle of the temple, And saith unto him, If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down: for it is written, He shall give his angels charge concerning thee: and in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone.
Peter and I listened to the bells of Big Ben chime at midnight and I got up to leave for the airport, the last week, as it was, a residue of memory. I was in the Netherlands, and then riding on a bus with that girl, yes, I remembered it all like dream you wake up from suddenly. Peter and I looked at the Rothko pictures together and spent the day talking about how faith had failed us in different ways, and love placed and misplaced, and how we had, like pachiko balls falling through a machine, landed in this place. We walked up Tottenham Court Road: yes, I hadn't imagined that.

At Luton, after the bus let us out and I woke up, I wandered in to find only thirty minutes of free wifi, I tried to sleep in a corner under the fluorescent light, all these other travellers suffering to make do in different ways. I put on my headphones and shut my eyes, listening to brown noise and a 12 hz tone, waiting for three o'clock, or four or five. The M&S was open, and I bought hotcakes.

What else had I dreamed: I had been on trains and buses and planes for how many days. There were pensioners all around getting ready for holidays — a flight to Alicante, yes. The mates all drinking pints in the airport lounge at 5 because they can, and I had picked up an abridged copy of Dante's Inferno, with just the bits about hell, as a joke. Which circle was this.
The highest Wisdom and the primal Love.
Before me there were no created things.
I woke up again on a plane in Belfast and went back to a hotel I had been to before: a Polish man speaking in an Irish accent. He gave me a room with a shower. And then I was in Cardiff, walking down these streets again that I have now walked silent three times this year, once holding Yoko's hand, once alone last month, and once alone again. I spoke about ethics and doing good, and a hijabi shook my hand saying, 'It's okay: I'm one that shakes hands' and I couldn't tell how she knew about my interest in hijabis shaking hands.

I woke up on Saturday and threw up twice then laid in bed for 8 hours waiting for whatever I had to pass. Sunday, I woke up and took Nana to swimming and then to a play and then they played in the park while I stood at a fence and Yoko sat inside, on a bench.

Monday, today, I woke up and the girls started a new school, the one I told them we had been waiting a year and a half for them to start. They both had no trouble: Naomi has been to so many schools for a little girl.
Of Angels, who have not rebellious been,
Nor faithful were to God, but were for self.
The heavens expelled them, not to be less fair;
Nor them the nethermore abyss receives,
For glory none the damned would have from them."
And then I woke up.