For Heather

I know it has been a long time since I have written... and I do recall that my last entry was rather morose, or at the very least far more introspective than I thought it would be. I wonder why we share our intimacies with people online - writing on a blog to me seems like the ancient Jewish ritual of scattering crumbs on the water at the New Year as a way of cleansing - of casting off the burdens of the past year. Words are like scattered crumbs in that you never know where they will end up, but it doesn't matter because you feel lighter having gotten rid of them. And I wonder why it is so much easier for me to share my innermost thoughts anonymously on a computer screen than it is to tell people who I have known all my life what I really feel.... perhaps because I do not know what your reaction to my words will be.
I hope of course that you will like them, but I cannot know. And if I could see the reactions of people's faces as they read what I write, I would certainly stop writing altogether out of sheer embarrassment. Indeed, the only saving grace about singing (like writing) is that usually you can't see your audience - the darkness makes it easier to bare your soul. In that way, it is like being in a confessional booth - you have the sense that you are anonymous and alone, but that somebody is listening.

One of the peculiar things about me is that I never know what I am going to write about when I start a blog entry. For instance, I was going to write all about Heather, but now I have written about something else altogether! Oh dear.
Well, the last time I saw Heather, she was wearing the most beautiful red coat, and it was custom made, and it looked as though a flower petal had fallen from the sky and molded itself to her, so well did the coat fit - so vibrant was the shade of it. And it had movement and I remember it was the only element of colour in an otherwise drab room, and I thought that was very much like Heather.

For when it comes down to it, we are here to add colour to drab rooms, and to have movement. And in that way we are like crumbs and words in that we travel and perhaps have no destination.... but it does not matter because at least we are

moving.