nothing's going to happen tonight... i'm already thinking what i'm going to be eating for breakfast, how much time it's going to take me complete that NVQ English & Mathematics assessments, the first module... for that role as steward at venues... i'd love to rethink writing, this writing, as: something more than what tabloid newspapers & magazines employ people for... no matter... i don't think i have the stomach to even begin to care what people want to digest... let the people be people: it becomes much easier thus, to become yourself... wholly... but i won't be up to much tonight... why, just because, see below:

there's not much to write about this night...
absolutely nothing:
i'm only scribbling because:
it would be a complete waste: to simply,
to merely drink...
i can't just drink, just: drink...
   waste of a good bourbon if i'm not bleeding
any ink...
the highlight? one of my maine *****
decided to investigate the windowsill
i was perching on... with one foot folded
sitting on it...
so he jumped onto the windowsill
and started toying with: truth or dare with
his reflection... i took a few photographs...
because, as someone once said:
spending time around cats is never
a wasted moment...
it possibly can't be...
       freedom from the leash... from taking
the animal for a walk...
but beside this zenith: of a cat peering into
glass: when glass becomes a mirror in
the night, source of light on the inside...
complete darkness outside...
hell... he managed to sit so excited that
i stood up & took a picture of myself with him...
i stroke my beard...
i scratch my head... if there was a glass
of milk available: i'd probably drink it...
i stroke my beard:
god, i miss fidgeting with my chin
& jaw-line...
        i sometimes wish i was 18 again
and had my long hair done-up into
a French braid...
then i wish i wasn't...
   i like being this indecisive...
        stretched over time... yet composed
to a little bit of space...
- such unspectacular writing...
anyone could do it with enough
focus for keeping up with the rigours
of grammar & spelling...
yet for me... merely an interlude...
winter has come and cycling has become
a chore... extra clothing... gloves...
when speeding even if the recorded
temp. is only hovering above one degrees Celsius...
the felt temp. when riding a bicycle:
with the wind "impediment" drops to below 0...
but winter comforts my thought(s)...
the almost eternal night sooths...
all colours on the ground: dimmed...
everything is more: sketched...
rather than painted...
        i always adored winter...
all that's missing is the snow...
why will the snow never come?
warum werden der schnee, nie kommen?
will the snow never come? why?
come night... when: as it falls...
pirouettes of ghostly ballerinas...
that's how i remember it...
standing in the middle of a graveyard
at night... looking up...
as the flakes fell on my face...
i have never... experienced a tender kiss...
not by a mother, not by a girlfriend...

ich vermissen... dies, nur freude:
komme(n) die lange nacht...

    schneeflocke... schneeflocke...
   kuss mich, nur eine: letzte zeit.