daaayum.

so i was talking to Macky about That Fellow of yours.

discussing me again, are we?

we've exhausted topic me about 3 bagels ago. you, we're only 2 bites in. and now 3.

yeah, we do love them bagels.

no, no tangents today. i have a budget to keep to!

's a habit. sorry.

Macky's version of Your Fellow sounds different from mine. why's that?

why do you say it like that?

like what?

like.. like you're title-sentencing it. capital why, capital ef. Your Fellow.

was i? oh hey, YF would make a funny acronym to use, too easy to misconstrue.

yeah! interesting.. i've a friend who studies lingistics, if i'd the money to throw on a fascinating topic that is really only useful for spies and actors, i'd hurl it so quick. she does this great party trick that drives people wild, tapping her tongue about 3 teeths from the front two, and -

tangenting. pretty sloppy work, for you.

thanks. on both counts.

Topic, Your Fellow. Question, is he the one in Mack's head or mine?

both of them are him. like yellow and blue is green. i think i thought out loud at you both. phooot, fully formed aspects. evil twins.

did you tell the rest about him? 'cause i'd love to round table this Fellow to bits.

fully formed quadruplets. no, triplet-o-halflings.

you didn't tell Jen? why not?

she's my evil twin. hey, and i have my philosophy thesis' opening liner now.

urgh. "don't start until i have", was going to be mine. it's a diamond in the rough, i hope. what's yours?

i'm philosophising bagels. bagels are our moons, we revolve around cafes with 'em, they grow in the oven shrink and in the mouth, and - here's the closer - we now measure time by them. Sir Bagel, i bestow upon thee Issues. They be gifts, use them with care and much guile.

Halfbagel of a tangent! Daayum.

a two-syllable damn. score! also, i'm sorry.

we need more bagels.

skymonkeys.

It's been weeks, or 2 hours ago, if you believe how my endorphins are still racing adrenaline every time I remember it.

I could almost snuff out those people down there between my dangling toes. They were scurrying like ants, and I, I was omnipotent. The city was beautiful, it's twinkling lights laughing (at?) with me like urban faeries, it's dark distant shapes mysterious, organic, twisting.

There it was, truly panoramic with no hideous load of bricks to shroud it, more to see then I probably deserved. It belies the size of this island, but it's all perception, no? And right there, my perception was being blown to pieces. The world did curve around me and hug me snugly in place. How did the old folk with their uninterrupted view of the world not see what I'm seeing, and think it flat? It's like spinning in a circle until you collapse in on yourself in a clumsy silly embrace.

Have you felt the high, cold winds tease your heated, tired soles? I have. It eases the ties life has over you, flooding you with so much rushing joy that burdens and rotten memories are like the clothes gently rippling in the wind on your back, hardly substantial against it.

The wind, the air, bloody hell, even you are different up there. The best damn version there ever was. The fear-sweat from your clammy hands dry in that wind and doesn't quite return with the full respect for heights you know is due. You wonder, why's your face feel so sore? You turn to your friend, and see the answering, proud grin. Here's my secret place, his says, welcome. That twines with the galloping thrills, that lingering thread of fear, and your own grin, grin, grin.

The clambering, edging past steep drops, ducking out of sight, doesn't pound your heart as hard as you backtrack, because you did leave a little of it behind.

Later, much later, you might notice the gritty grime under your now-scrappier nails, the stains on your nice clothes, a long, interesting streak down one calf that looks suspiciously like old pigeon poo. But for now, you're wild-haired and bushy-tailed, and when you come home your mother glances at you and almost starts, it's because your eyes are shining electric and more alive then they've been for months and months.


Twenty-two heady storeys and you, my bold, chimney-topped friend. It's awesome, you're too awesome, we're going back. :)

100th.

Question: Do we insist on having meaning in our lives?




Counting potential futuristic debts is nerve-wrecking in a manner unrelated to but not unlike the effects of an unnecessary all-nighter. Same uneven heart-poundings, skittish fingers. But i do so much better when i'm working it out by myself. Sorry marmee, you do make me quiver in guilt. oh boo - that furrowed brow and pained glances, not as subtle, and my hide, not as thick, as you'd like to think.

Forcing this one through might be a bad idea. Dear all young 'rents: listen to your government when he nags you to family-plan. Having 3 kids each want to hit university, university, polytechnic in one year is a financial pain. Not having planned for it, well...

I'd figure it out.




for only 4 marks, the answer's: Define meaning. Define "lives". Straddle, be a middle-of-the-road man, begin your answer with "To a certain extent," and thank your secondary 3 social studies teacher for some dubious ambivalence and real lack of spine.