halofuck -

The big powerful all conquering force of the ocean wrecked havoc upon some of the unfortunates who tried, as one should, to ride the crest’s and sail with success upon its bountiful surface.

It causes humility with one flick of its power, a confidence killer, a life breaking and life changer. Almost at times, it seems to some of its victims, a flick performed out of spite, or revenge for being taking so lightly … or just out of pure random boredom. Or maybe, as well might be the case with a pacific little tug boat it’s something to do with an unpleasantness from a past life. Though there are times when it feels to the little tug that it’s present life is happening for the sake of future memory’s; from a future vessel many many years in ahead.

There’s been many a fine vessel set out upon it’s maiden voyage, thinking itself a grand liner with only the best on board. Or a vessel that travels in boho-romantic style, carrying gypsies and painters. The kind to flounce naked to the Argentine tango while love making with life itself…only these self-images are dashed upon the rocks of truth …as the ocean pounds reality across their bows.

But what is the ocean really up to?

Is it really demanding that the vessels tame themselves, haul in their oars and be nice and become 3 bags full sir!

I can’t believe that … how boring and if there’s one thing the ocean ain’t its boring.

Nah, its testing who’s got the backbone to haul its Keel back up and say “FUCK YOU!” I’m still me. You see the ocean likes its vessels to have a certain amount of spirit otherwise there’s nothing there for it to play balancing games with.

You know the balancing games right? Living with just the right amount of self-assuredness and positivity mixed with a certain arrogance tucked beside your invincible behaviour. However, you take your dreams and ambitions as a given before they’ve been achieved, well woe be tide you when the ocean flicks its fated power upon your path, fate will not put up with being taken for granted and remember it likes a genuine thanks nodded it’s way. Of course it doesn’t like slow witted cowards either… it can all be a little confusing these days (moondust.)

So the little tug boat was once a fairly decent vessel finding itself loaded with a certain amount of abundance. All be it, an abundance that takes quite some time to uncover. For when it first set sail…it did all the wrong things, it went out into the big vast powerful currents without knowing any better … only to discover that its brain wasn’t as sharp or as knowing as it needed to be… Fear’s shadow has hung over the little tug boat ever since. And when fear hangs its shadow over a life, that life is marked for struggle and no mistake!

So the vessel skimped and slooped. Its mind a mess, it had to deal with that fact that it had a sensitive grasp on a reality it knew nothing about. Oh dear what a pain for the vessel, all those years it bobbed like an apple lost and solo. The Solo bit hurt, it hurt and scarred forever more, it done strange things to its hull and mind.

But things changed for the little tug, it got itself some amigo’s and was so pleased it had others as friends, others that also wondered as lonely as a cloud.

It even found a vessel that it chopped and bobbed with for a good three years, but it didn’t work out, the the annoying feeling of a calling kept the little tug from feeling settled. So again it a was off on the high sea’s lonely and starved and not quite right in the head, it failed again and again and again.

But the little tug wasn’t weak, oh no sir it was not, for it kept on going … forever searching for form and land, for years and years it roamed. When one day it gazed a gazely stare at others who were just a flea-bitten and de-ranged as itself…

Things had changed for the little tug, it now had form and land, it had context and territory, but that brought it’s own problems…though it also gained riches … for soul-mates were a plenty and again another vessel showed an interest and together they hung around with each other, but the little tug was by now so used to thinking without societal helpings that it really wasn’t much cop! It didn’t have the stamina or strength never mind the life experience … the little tug boat was fucked up and a bit of a mess.

It sat bopping up and down upon the waves, wondering what had happened and why … though all the while it knew the answers, but still it paid good to ask anyway … for it had trouble with the answers, they couldn’t come out with all the words in the right places, if it could remember the words at all. For much to the little tugs horror, its memory was weak. It realised it had been around long and was very tired.

It looked at it’s sails then checked it’s decks. Looked also at the bounty that had been bestowed upon its shoulders and wondered why, with such an exciting bounty it found itself continually, in such a poor discarded mess? It wanted to cry. To have a little kiss touch its bows from a fellow traveller and be given comfort.

But it bopped alone.

The storms brewed heavy one year and the little tug was caught up in the middle of all the mayhem. The poor thing was battered from pillar to post, its already half dead body was kicked some more, so much so, it was no use to anyone… Secretly in it’s head it was relieved that its bigger daddy ship wasn’t around to see the state it was in, what an embarrassment that would’ve been.

The little tug felt control slip away, the great ocean waves of fate threw it’s little vulnerable body this way and that. Its ribs took a pounding, its jaw was dislocated and its head hurt all the more. Its ugly body was damaged, keel and hull were bruised and exhausted. In a coma it found itself hitting gently against an old port wall, it couldn’t believe it, the port wall was a familiar one, it was this very port that it first set sail all those years ago. When it was full of unreality and promise.

So the little tug drifted inland scarping against the wall. Its sail was just a pretend, sometimes the little boat grazed to near the shallows and its undercarriage gets a painful scrap.

“How can i help you little tug” says a voice “you really look in a bad way.”

The little tug gulped, wow a voice it thought to itself, someone was paying it heed.

“Eh yeh. Just a little bruised, i need some fixing up” replied the little tug “can you help?”

The voice also had eyes and used them against little tug, little tug felt strange having a pair of eyes looking at it almost in judgement.

“Well” it said “there’s possibility… But”

“But what?” quizzed the little boat

“Well it’ll cost some dosh… and besides where have you been all these years. Most from your batch have moved on and up, you know.”

The little tugged frowned “Who, and where have they all moved to?”

The voice didn’t answer it just eyed the tug up a bit more “It’ll cost you, getting your body fixed, might be some internal problems, who knows? I mean your not as young as you used to be?”

This had been dawning on the little tug for quite sometime and nodded so in agreement “I’ve taken so many wrong turns that I’m quite beside myself with shame and frustration” answered the little tug. “Once i was quite a grand thing, not the biggest or the best but enough to hold my head above water.”

Little tug look at itself sadly and conceded “Not now, I’m drowning now.”

Another false dawn frighten the little tug, for it knew how much hope can kill “eh can you really help?”

The voice stood wavering, wondering what to do ” well” it said eventually very unsure for it was put off by fears shadow that still haunted the little tug, it wondered if it could win against such a power. Just then a glint caught its eye. A way through to the other side, a glimpse of a promised land was still in the little tugs sights, it really hadn’t given up.

Such strength inspired the voice, it licked its lips and decided to give it one bloody good try.

Think I've cracked a bell jar, time will tell... though its not smashed, least I know of?
Who moves first?
If either of us moves at all,
It's a dilemma that awaits another time.
Deep down she's are worth it. Owes i, to her a lot in life.
Stress maybe overcoming me, but alway my ambivalent side to those, even close can kick in, is a part of me that's strong, rarely overcome.
It bemuses me how i can never see someone again ever, yet just before hand there was closeness!
Ah well.

Where the ground turns red and things with no mouths talk to you through the sixth sense hidden behind your eyes.
Or the fireplace lets through dragons riding bare-backed by the green-fairy's with the fluttering wings.
No waking up with Rosa or the glutton in the redlight house, or dangling on down Montmartre in search of worms.
Still at least I'll never have malaria.