(2003 to 2005)


Mon Jul 12 02:24:00 UTC+1000 2004


I went for a walk.

I feel better.

But only just.

I have a calm pretense, but inside I'm still writhing.

“Time out” is bad for me. I don't like thinking. I don't like remembering things.

Some idle, out of order, musings; before I get on with it:

In high-school my Japanese teacher said she went to Mt. Fuji and standing there, she felt like jumping. The kids in the class thought that was strange, but I knew what she meant.

I went for a walk, with no shoes on. I only walked out on to the street, and up the road a little bit. Slowly.

I came back, because I didn't have a destination.

On the street tonight, I realised that I don't like where I live. I don't like the people around me. I'd prefer to be far away from here, alone.

When I was growing up, I lived in the mountains.

My house was on a dirt track. It was one of two houses in the street, we had no real neighbors to speak of.

I had a place that I used to walk to in the bush when I was upset or just felt like being alone and thinking.

I used to sit on the rocks at the top of a cliff, and look out over the valleys.

It was always cold. It was always clean. It was invigorating.

I know that Mt. Fuji feeling. Sitting on top of a cliff, knowing that you could jump off it, is the closest feeling of freedom and significance that you can have.

I used to enjoy sitting on my cliff alone, for hours at a time, thinking.

Tonight, on the street, there was no destination. There is no cliff in the vicinity that I could walk to.

I need to be sitting on a cliff, alone, in cold, clean air in order to feel truly at peace.


Not a day goes by that I don't think of Mick.

I don't even know the date that he died.


I feel better now.

My chair is adequately positioned, my feet are cold and wet, and everything is silent.

I am clam now.


Copyright © 2003-2005 John Elliot