International Finance Centre, Central, 6:21PM – Mist.

Entry 154

And just like that the IFC changes their music, releasing us from the repetitive ring-ting-ting of the lunar new year.

Back to jazz.

And just like that three dates end in nothing. A promising person. A palpable withholding of connection. Then rejection.

A realization that to dwell on things means to dwell in the room of cancelled courtship. A kind of self-imposed confinement. A waiting room without an appointment. Otherwise known as sulking or wallowing.

No waiting. Do the other thing. If you run, you cannot confine yourself nor can you sulk or wallow. The activities are diametrically opposed. Choosing to oppose is not choosing to ignore one’s feelings. You simply take the inner child running with you. Hold out your arms, carve the air. It’s a ballet. Take an hour to run 10km. Forget that you’re running. Forget why. Ending in nothing is an opportunity to witness something.

When one leaves your life, another enters.

A bird has taken to perching on the electrical meter beneath the eves above my front door at night. I used to worry it would shit on the chair beside my door. Then I moved the chair.

Each night I return home I look up. The bird is perfect and gives the impression of a Christmas ornament - probably because of its nestled look, probably because of its stillness. I hope it feels safe. I want it to feel safe.