I don’t have much of a concept of time, nor events and people therein. You don’t exist when I don’t see you some eldritch-driven sunken-cheeked dude once didn’t sing.

That isn’t meant in a bad way. There is something that stops in my head, and picking up again after any undefined (but obviously defined when you know how long it is, just not defined for this sentence) period of time is easy. Sliding back into relationships, stopped through me moving, them moving, the earth moving under us. Everything changes. If you think about it. There’s not much you can do about it. (Just another broken Irish sat on a park bench, skipping a few lines.)

I wasn’t explicitily thinking of The Blonde One when I started, and not only that, it probably negates what I have said, as I don’t think we left each other’s company on the best of terms. But there was something more than that single encounter. (And she knows how ace she is.) I was more thinking of how I see time. It isn’t as if in my head I am still seventeen, as I am sure I was insufferable at that age. I seem to recall thinking I could be whatever I wanted to be. And sure enough, I did what I wanted to do. Come to think of it, I always have. Can’t talk to me, my mother says.

There are so many good people in my life. All better than me. I have said before, people aren’t equal. If we were, there would be nothing to strive for, nothing to want or need. And I want and need that which others give me. Not validation, I don’t need anyone to validate me. I am not defined in those terms. And Cassandra said something to me last night, which I sometimes overlook in the mundane day-to-day travails. Life touched by the stars.

But this sense of time can’t be unique to me, can it?

I am a well-known mobile phone luddite, still clutching the one I got free from DeathStar all those years ago. Seven years ago now. I haven’t wanted to change. It receives calls. It makes calls. It holds (count ‘em) ten SMSes. What more do you need? I have a DSLR, I don’t want to watch movies on it, I have an iPod. But then there came the iPhone. And that all changed. I want, and will get, one. Perhaps I could persuade NewWork(tm) to buy me one as and when they come out. I guess I bought into the whole Mac culture a few years ago. I expect it to break one day out of warranty, though.

I must ressurect my we-should-be-allowed-to-discrimate essay, polish it and post it somewhere. No time right now for politicking, there is ToeJam and Earl to be at!

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