i have no idea where to start and i know i will forget some things so here's to randomness and off we go. i get the feeling that crime and punishment is not going to cause tears like david copperfield does. i couldn't even watch the film version of it for more than half an hour. it is not that it is a particularly sad book/film, (though it has it's moments), it is just that there are so many scenes that play out like i would approach them. and have approached them. and sometimes with the same results. i am not going to go into details of which parts they are since there are quite a few. so many memories. and not all good. and none requested. i still see similarities between raskolnikov and myself, but only in thoughts; not actions. especially since i have just finished part one and he has killed two people already. with somewhat dubious motives i might add. i know exactly how he feels about certain things and feel the same things he feels about his situation. and even about those sudden realisations he gets, or his distaste for so many things. i know all about those things. but it doesn't bring back the memories like david does. memories are another one of those things i don't really care for. that is why i called them unrequested. i would much rather forget everything i ever knew or experienced. mainly because there is nothing here that i haven't already done. and if i have to stay here then i would at least like the pleasure of new discoveries; of first occurrences; of each new dawn be a brand new start, as if being born every day. i cannot accept any less than that if i must stay. and i will not accept or stay. i realise i said i don't like change and also that i need change, but i did clarify that what i disliked was 'small change'. that is, change for the sake of change. and if i did not clarify then it i am doing so now, and thus making it a perfect example of something which i will talk about later. see if you recognise it when it arrives. however, even the changes i do not mind can be something of an irritation to me. and therein lies one of my main traits. contradiction. everyone who knows me should understand that and if they don't then they have not being paying attention. although i do not expect people to. i always set low expectations of others and high expectations of myself. that way i know i will never be disappointed other than with myself, and even then it is rare. that is not vanity; i set realistic expectations of myself. attainable dreams, if you will. surely another contradiction. are dreams not supposed to be, by definition, unattainable? what is the point in dreaming if we can reach them? should we not be concentrating and planning instead? if i am making very little sense, that could be a result of being up all night after a(nother) day of sporadic slumber. such is life. give me all ya got, i say; i can take it! i have a dream, see. i used to think that dreams weren't supposed to come true. well, i have had a word and i have decided that they do. and this one will. and i hope yours do too, whatever they are and however insignificant they appear to others. some say it's about choices. nah. dreams are supposed to be rash, single-minded affairs. that's what makes them so unreal and so worth achieving! i don't know about you but i am tired of only reaching for the attainable. just because we can reach it doesn't mean it's worth it. i reach for the stars. although i still choose my star carefully. what looks large from a distance, close up is never that big, as someone once said. i think maybe there is even a contradiction in what i said there, but it just goes to prove my point all the same. also, it shows how i change from minute to minute. perceptions and opinions. actually no, not opinions. i do not have opinions. opinions are what the weak hide behind when they are not strong enough in the mind to call what they think fact. i can call it fact. i know when i am right and i keep quiet when i am not. i also keep quiet when i am right, which might seem strange. it is something i have learnt to do and something which i do as naturally as breathing. i never answer anything wholly, you can never be sure who you are talking to and who they are talking to. and i do know how that sounds, but i also know things other people do not know and it is these things that have shaped my outlook on that particular subject! is it about trust? now that i do not know. it could be. i cannot say for certain that i trust anyone. maybe that is why i do not have expectations. also, i do not expect people to put any trust or faith in me. neither would i recommend they expect anything of me. mainly because i am forever changing. my mood might change almost by the hour, and even then at less than a moment notice, but my whole self changes every day. evolution? i would not go that far. it happens far too quickly and is far too noticeable for that. but, it is more than just a change of mood. i see things differently. i approach them differently. my perception of everything changes. things i like no longer hold my attention. people no longer interest me. a kind of brutal honesty ignites, then flashes and finally tears open the night and i change again. and for this i do not expect any kind of understanding. or sympathy, or worry. in fact i would recommend that i receive nothing of those sorts. it will not be appreciated, that is one thing i do know. there are moments when even the slightest discrepancy can cause it. because i have found that people cannot be trusted to listen and take notice and remember. i am not mad about it. i get bitter when it happens though but it passes. my only wish is that it would not occur so frequently or involve people. i am very much self-centred about the whole affair, as i am about most things these days. i find it easier that way. i do not care. i am passed caring. that is to say, there are things i should care/worry about, i just don't. and that is the difference between carefree and not caring. i know i am not carefree. i know what it is i should be concerned about, i just cannot bring myself back. some things are easier to move on from than others. so easy, in fact, that it is almost done automatically. unintentionally. i have learned to forget the things that change like that. probably because it is so easy to do. i take the easy way out of so many things now. this very apathy being a prime example. there are things i still care about, but only things that affect me directly. i know that will change because i know every move i make by heart, as if i have been here before. i have seen it all. i know exactly what i am doing at all times. i know exactly where i need to be and where to go and how i will get there. not down to planning or even intuition. i just know. it just is. my problem is that i suffer from various afflictions of the heart that cause me to stutter in my selfishness occasionally. this too is unintentional. and weak. it causes levels to be risen. generosity is now expected. i have to learn to say no. there are things i do not do anymore. and if people had listened then they would know. but they will not so they do not. repetition is also becoming a more noticeable attribute i suspect. it is a form of idleness that grows from conformity. another easy way out i have taken. although at the same time it has a certain degree of difficulty and requires a certain endurance to complete. another contradiction there. are we keeping count? i am not. the idleness got me. ha! the idleness and the contrasting endurance are just the means to the end and are employed at required and separate times to allow me to persevere with the predicament i find myself in. or as it is more commonly known, work. oddly enough, though it may be killing me slowly, i am doing it for the good of my health. this is where, again, i ignore the process and concentrate solely on the conclusion. i am going to escape one way or another so why not go for it. to go back to caring again. i think there is a difference, not only between carefree and not caring, but even with 'passed caring'. that is to say the concern and worry did not bear out the desired result. not caring has a kind of playful meaning that is often (mis)interpreted as carefree. however, it can also have leaning towards a kind of desperation. maybe even degenerating into exasperation, leaving one to at once forget. that is what i have done. from now on i so not simply not care, but am passed caring. that is not to say i do not. maybe i do but it is either unintentional or innate. neither of which i can do anything about. or at least as far i have got in my searching i can't. i do still have a way to go yet though and in all truthfulness i doubt whether i will ever reach the end. i am scared to sleep. every time i close my eyes i see into someone else’s. not through someone else’s, but into. i see them! i have seen this person before. i couldn't bear it then to see suffering and i can't now. but it is there. in the eyes staring right through me. piercing. a glaze of strength. nothing but a cover designed to keep distance. and the eyes, as if staring across the expanse. but why? nothing good can come of it! they close when mine open. i wish i could see what they see then. i think perhaps i do. i think perhaps that i should not. or at least that i do not want to. my hands have marked the foreign window. my eyes have seen the books on the shelf. i have beheld the blooming lilacs. i have offered my arm on the suffering road but the burden is still carried. and not by me. i want to carry it. i need to carry it. it is lighter for me. but if my promise comes true then the sacrifice. and i lose. no, i have lost. so do i win? no, it is not about the winning. at least not my winning. that is incidental and consequential in regards to other more important goals. if i win then only i win. if the sufferer wins then we all win. i start with nothing and come out with nothing. none the richer, none the wiser, (since i already know all this), only older. there is an irony there. an irony too devastating in it's timing and precision for me to explain. it is the way though. and i have promised. and i keep promises, (powers of remembrance allowing, of course). focus! focus is what is required. of course! i know it now. this very second it has struck me. the picture is too big! look into the infinite and what do you see? nothing! just a blank. now concentrate. harder. concentrate! on a single spot. see, it sparkles. and if it doesn't then pick another. and another and another until you find the light. for that is your dream. that one point which to attain. distance is irrelevant. so long as it shines it is always there. it cannot elude! focus is the key! and i am focused even now. so soon. but once i knew to look, i knew where to look. my dream. autumn is upon us now. soon the winter will descend on this window and the fields will unravel their snowy harvest. white. the picture of a thousand years. antique majesty. black and white contrasts and surrounds. and time is measured by the leaves. the present wilts to past and the winter, future, finds them at the end of there journey. departing upon their bleak, chilling wind and are gone. then spring and the spark of creation. the birth of nature from the barren landscape. the best things always come out of nothing, though none are more expected and yet at the same time retain their own particular wonder. the formation of the feathered trees return outside the window and all is good. and still we focus. such events as seasons transcend the intensity. it is the only real wonder of the world. everything else is so simple. and yet is ignored. do we already know? do we know too much to bother ourselves with such trivialities? or do we not know enough as to be able to grasp the phenomenon? i am not be able to change the course of rivers or turn back time itself. i always thought this a major weakness, and still do, but i think maybe it is because i do not need to. why? because what is going to happen will happen. and for the best. the best of all possible worlds as that naïve young candide was fond of saying. though i find it hard to justify i think i agree. justification is overrated anyway. except in the course of justice where it is decidedly necessary. though often and quite inexplicably overlooked. having just this minute written that i agree with said voltaire maxim, i found myself say, in my head, something to the effect that candide can keep his best of all possible worlds. maybe i do not agree after all. or maybe i have changed again. before my very eyes. and if i had not have mentioned it (much) earlier then maybe i would never have experienced the change 'in the moment' and always been left to wonder when it happened and when it would occur again. not that i would remember. memories being what they are to me. or rather, what they are not. i am fading now. i can tell by the number of mis-spellings which i am almost constantly correcting as i go. and yet if i were writing the old fashioned way then all the words would be spelt correctly. strange that. strange too that people worry about the effects of the computer age on old fashioned communication. surely if i were as used to, or as deeply immersed in electronic script as ordinary hand-written type, then i would make just as few mistakes. proof, albeit a little unstable in that it has no basis in fact, that the letter will never go out of fashion and will merely become old-fashioned. however, there is a style to writing. and style is far more permanent than fashion. last night as i looked at the mirrored sky i could hear the constellations twinkle. a symphony in the stars. and they played that song. and they were right. and we were right. and those who heard it that day knew. they knew. and you knew. and i knew. and yet still felt i had to hope. yes, everybody knew and the puzzle is complete. we will meet again. only i do know where and i do know when.