Fish & Chips

BG and I both loved Fish and Chips. Although we only ate Fish & Chips together once or twice, the love and merits of Fish & Chips featured in many of our conversations. Tonight I bought take-away F & C from a shop I haven't been to since around August last year. That night, I was driving while  I on phone to my dearest BG/SMF, having one of our delightfully silly conversations. While we spoke I was looking for a Fish & Chip shop to stop at. Via phone, BG tried to navigate me to a Fish & Chip shop he recalled in my area... it wasn't there. I found another Fish & Chip shop, but couldn't find a carpark... I circled... I asked BG:

Me: "Am I allowed to illegally park to buy fish and chips?!"
He: His wonderful laugh... I wish I could describe it... He said something about the paradoxical nature of my question. But so lovingly and enthusiastically.

I thought better of parking illegally. These are badlands, after all. I pulled in to a laneway that bordered the Fish and Chip shop, to cut through to the next parallel street. Hey presto!!!

Me: "There's a 15min park in the lane right next to the Fish and Chip shop!!"
Us: "It's the Fish and Chip park!!"

Silly, I know. It was hardly the most profound of our conversations, but nonetheless it's one of my fond vivid memories of BG from recent times. I wish I could describe it better. His voice lit up my brain and spirit like spectacular fireworks. 

To Ascertain the Past

I've been awake and up for over an hour. I've spent most of that time frantically looking for my August 2016 mobile phone bill: in my tax records, in my emails, on the Optus website, and in the depths of my heart...

I'm trying to find if I made any calls to my dearest Special Man Friend (aka Boy Genius) on first weekend of August 2016. It's a deeply distressing and unsatisfying archaeological dig. The purpose of my quest is:

• to know if I called him promptly on Sunday morning, after I read an email he'd sent late Saturday night 

• to ascertain if I was thorough enough in trying to contact and look after him, in the hours and days following his cry-for-help-esque email

As yet I can't find anything solid to relieve my futile anxiety about the past; did I or did I not, fully support my soulmate when he really needed me? 

The reason for this wild stabbing around in the dark net of emails and phone records is thus: my soulmate died suddenly and unexpectedly, nearly 9 months ago. FUCK. I can't believe it's already been 9 months....   

His death remains unascertained by the coroner. 

I suspect I wouldn't feel much better even if I had all the phone call and text evidence anyway.... If I did pester him to answer the phone, or send him loving text messages; what did I say? Did I make him feel better? Did I fully support him in the way he needed at the time? 

The last 24 hours, up until I embarked on this ridiculous digital dig 90 minutes ago, I felt quite good. I felt his warm, hilarious, sparkly spirit alive inside and all around me. I have to dive back in to that. And now I'm running WAY BEHIND SCHEDULE. I'm supposed to leave house in 10mins, but I'm currently still in my PJs, having not had shower, nor done my yoga practice. 

Later alligator! 

I've somehow become...

...a DAILY EXERCISER. I've done some kind of exercise almost every day for the last 41 days.

I realised yesterday it had become a habit when an early evening engagement was unexpectedly cancelled. I thought: 'great! now I have time to fit in a swim'.

So it seems it's part of my life now. Fingers crossed. So far it's had a tangible effect on my mind only. I still look like a sedentary type. But I feel good. And that's what counts.

Day 42, here I come!

what does this mean?

Why are you in my dreams? Not every night, but bizarrely often. Why do I see you but avoid 'running in to you' in a Vietnamese restaurant? I'm not even sure I like you. I don't even know you. But that's what one gets when one gives a cocaine-fuelled blow job to an acquaintance on a Melbourne winter's night.

I will ponder further.