Rambling (unedited free flow of thought)

(Unedited thoughts from the long grass)

A dear and trusted co-pilot once told me; ” just write. write and don’t look back. don’t check. don’t edit. just get it down…”

We shared several Hendricks & Tonics in between the black notes of a Soho dusk. It was sound advice.

One learn’s a lot about one’s self during the inhales of a ramble.

This is a ramble. I’ll be sharing a few.

No doubt it will be littered – Carnival weekend littered – with grammatical car crashes and pitiful spelling. But one will learn a lot about one’s self during the inhales of a ramble. So I’m trying to not care.

This, is a ramble. (I do care, but I’m trying not to.)

So I find myself (slouching towards another birthday ) caught in the tension of a spirit vs science stand-off.

Biochemically, the dragon stirs. With menace.

The highs and lows are getting shorter.  The bell curve, shaped with less forgiveness.

And yet the spirit fights on. Pushing back hard against dem’  numbers.

The binarism of science versus the ambiguous and serial subjectivity of my Truth. My delicate, precious and yet profoundly empowering Truth.

(This, I must teach you, darling).

For now, treatment remains a suspended shadow in the dark corridor to the left. Yet the tension seems to tighten, daily, down the corridor to the right.

And then there’s grief.

For what’s been. But more confusingly, for what’s to come.

Or for what’s to be lost? I get confused.

The things that scare me most are not the things that will happen, it’s the things that won’t. Or at least will, but I may be forced to miss.

But it’s foolish, isn’t it? Being human is a fucking train crash sometimes.

I am of a strange and perhaps slightly contentious belief, that those who are chosen to endure nature’s cruelty, do so with a responsibility to share what they learn or are learning along the way, with others.

To teach. Seed hope. Help. Soothe. Lest others may one day find themselves in similar plots.

But I struggle with the balance. How about you? The balance between drawing from experience to teach, versus simply wanting to talk and be heard. Understood.


When does this type of teacher become a victim? And when does is he become annoying? Are there rules here?

Neutral is hard. But reality is a mess.

(This, is a ramble. I’m trying not to care).

I wrote half a book once. You may have a read it.

I have so much to say, and I think, so much to teach. And yet it turns out, whilst the Melphalan was able to stall dragon, it couldn’t smote the fear.

Of Judgment. Ridicule. Rejection. But then there’s that responsibility. Sense of duty.  Even, dare I say, Purpose?

Being human is a fucking train crash sometimes.

I can’t bring myself to write the other half. And yet that is where the teaching is. Survival against the odds unveils our greatest wisdom and most edifying lessons.

Is this the work, Charlie? Is this the corridor we need to walk.

(Listen, the biggest tragedy is not that we are never loved, because we are always loved, it’s that sometimes we grant neither permission not access to the deepest parts of us that need it most.)

So this, was a ramble.


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