groundhog day

In my mind (and spirit) I have aleady left Oxford three days ago. Yet when I wake up, each day, I'm still here.

Each day, I have an experience of getting lost in London. Each day, I catch the Oxford coach back to this destination, and start the whole experience again.

I can't feel anything in London because the air does not catch me in any particular way. It has that luke warm blood temperature quality, as if you were still being incubated in a womb. So much of England feels like this that you want to switch off from it in general. Surely it has no deeper meaning than a mother's womb?

I'm glad all of this will come to an end tomorrow morning. Around late morning I will leave for good. I'll leave this womb and the pacification I have felt in it, and kick my feet around in solid dirt and dust.

Have I been decompressed in this deep-sea chamber? Only time and fate will tell.

I've always preferred intense experiences, and I've always set out to create them when the generally haphazard nature of life was not forthcoming in and of itself.