sleepless in springfield, the night just lingers over like a dark blanket, i toss and turn, i think about my fave things, i think about them a lot and then the grey matter between my ears kicks into some sort of overdrive and i make my way down to the fire, throw a load of wood in, watch the flames lick at the glass and the heat envelope mission control and i write, woking my way through chunks of my book. my memories of the period i write are hazy, fuzzy, i need details and they are elusive. the silence is great, no sound except the crackle of flame, i make myself a tea, feel the sleep come as the tea kicks in. i sleep for two hours and then read for a few hours, the book is very good, unpredictable and interesting. again i sleep for another two hours and wake up suddenly, it's light, morning sneaked in.

my hair still looks pretty weird, i figure without my beard it will look reasonably consistent. it's very cold in the house, fire dying, outside is bitter and as i air the house the cold air blows through. at least it resets the interior atmosphere from the smoke and dust, the i'm wrapped up in jumpers, coats and scarves. i consider doing some laundry but end up discovering loads of tee shirts and a oil heater. christ where was that when i needed it! at least i can heat the bedroom when the wood runs out.

later i drive to the chemist pick up some stuff, then off to work. i dunno, work is not quite what it used to be, it's now just a way to pay my morgage, i can't really do much here anymore although every one likes me, they fear me, i guess that's respect in a way, but my heart is far away.

tomorow i have a few things to do in the morning, catching up with dr. peter proud. my back is killing me, whoever stabbed me there did a good job. hopefully peter will have some antidote. the other thing i have to do is work out how to sleep more than 4 hours a night, it's really taking it's toll, my eyes have such huge bags under them i look like a ghoul. actually with this weird hair cut i look a lot like iggy pop.  

i can't sleep so at dusk I head down to the markets and wander around, half hoping i can bump into something or someone that will distract me for a few hours but the market is far to busy and all i can think about is getting back to my novel i'm halfway through reading. it's been a while since a novel had me hooked. three story lines and two time lines about to converge, it's gripping stuff and very well written.

i make my way to the station, today is my hair appointment and i've decided to save a 2/3rds of the price and get it done in the city not terrigal where it's so expensive i just laughed when they quoted me. 

i meet yayin, she's just amazing. a really inspirational as she tells me her background story and we get stuck into the task. four hours later my hair is transformed, into a cross between ziggy stardust, the man who fell to earth, iggy pop and some sort of post punk look, a sort of orange / red tinge, purple overtones and the original black, grey strands. i'm told the colour will fade in 2 weeks and it will revert to the monochrome i'm familiar with, but it's certainly striking currently and people seem to notice. no one known to me, but lots of stares from fellow passengers on the train. 

as soon as i walk in bubbles calls and we chat for a little while, she's happy and in her cat world, i still get the impression she is glad to be away from me, i dunno, she seemed to really love all her ex boyfriends and give herself to them even when they turned out to be fuck heads, whereas i'm just no longer on her radar. even when i was decades ago she left me for someone else when i really needed her. however, truth is, it's lovely hearing her voice and despite her actions towards me, i love her. i don't need her to love me and i've always said without enthusiasm or demonstration as in, acts of faith, i don't want an ordinary love, it's just a word people use like 'kettle' or 'coat' or 'fun.' love for me is much much more, it's a whole spectrum of actions, a leap of faith, a sacrifice, a demonstrative verb, it's got to be more that just something you say habitually or in response to an auto pilot and past patterns created. sometimes when bubbles said it to me, i felt like she could have been talking to her iphone. 

so onwards, projects must be completed. i'm full steam ahead. i'd kill for an editor or assistant, someone to just motivate or at least inspire me but for the moment i'm alone.

dr. peter proud rang me from hamilton island, he's having an adventure but returns monday night. i can't wait, i miss the guy heaps. it does sound as if he had some adventures up there and he's ready to get home. stories of high speed cop chases, good cop bad cop, girls in bikinis and reef adventures. 

tomorrow i have a big meeting where i have to speak some home truths, it's not going to be easy, but i have to remember who i am there for. i'm not there to make friends.

well sadness is my middle name but what did i expect?