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// Filed under: Verbiage on Monday September 19th 2005, 2:11 pm In my dream, I have a wolf. She belongs to me and me alone but I cannot grasp her; I cannot touch her for she is dark and mysterious, and I know her name, but nothing else. Even her name writhes and twists in my minds grasp, vanishing like velvet ink, splitting and reforming with shadowed purpose. She is constantly moving, pacing, changing, impossible to pin down. Yet when I least expect it, she is there, haunting and beautiful, a familiar memory mingled with a new sensation. My family loves her. “You two would be great together”, my mother exclaims, entranced and disquieting. Marry a wolf? But she is not always a wolf, in the moonlight she is a girl, gorgeous and smiling with the glow of a mind burning bright. She pads through the silent corridors of my house, watches me as I sleep. My dogs sniff her with senses sharper than mine, tentatively, carefully, then with loving acceptance. I try to move, to speak; but I cannot. She dances in the moonlight, dances for me and I am struck by the memory of alien beauty. Every step is music and every image two, as the girl and the wolf move in poetic elegance, each a haunting afterimage of the next, an outline of a shadow in the night. She tilts her head back; the wolf howls and the girl screams, primal, basic, a note of such sorrow and joy that it wreaths me, engulfs me and lifts me up into the night sky. The moon hangs, looming in the air, silhouetting me against the dark. I float in silence, comprehending a reality far more powerful than my own. A tail brushes against my legs and I whirl around, terrified, curious. The girl stands before me, ghostly in the moonlight, her eyes gleaming and endless. She reaches out a hand, a paw, and wraps it in my own. She is warm and soft and deeply sad. There are so many questions I want to ask but I know I can not. She places a delicate finger on my lips, and smiles. // 5 Comments 
// Filed under: Theories on Friday September 16th 2005, 1:55 pm Now if you’re like me, (i.e. male and single) you may have a habit of noticing females as you walk around shopping centres and public places. I’m sure you’ve seen females around before, it’s quite a popular choice for gender these days. Now being a female naturally (to the disappointment of many males) leads to wearing clothes in public. And this is the subject of today’s Theory - the clothing choices of females. Sorry to those of you hoping for a dissertation on the female anatomy; there are other places one can visit to see attractive females. So let’s begin. Working in customer service for some time now, and of course the sheer act of being alive and having working eyes, has led me to notice that the most common colour combination for females, particularly teenage ones - and I’m talking 50% at the very least here - is a light pink top, and blue jeans. Always the same. Light pink top. Blue jeans. One simple question: Why? Sure, it’s a nice colour combination. It’s easy on the eyes, and definitely very feminine. I’m not saying it looks bad, in fact, on the right girl I’m sure it could be postitively stunning. But why, why, why is it so widespread? Why is that everywhere I go, girls are wearing the same colour combination? Why is that I can see at least once a week, a whole group of girls walking along, all wearing pink tops and blue jeans? And why do I italicise so much? Is it genetic? Is it a social imperative - pink-and-blue-are-feminine-colours-and-you-will-wear-them? Is it a secret society, dedicated to confusing the hell out of Tim? All of these are equally plausible. Because come on, how many colour combinations are out there? There must be more than one. It’s not like there’s a little back room somewhere in fashion land, where grey-and-beige sit together in a smokey haze with black-and-brown, swigging heavily from a half-empty vodka bottle and complaining bitterly about the “good old days” before those “pink-and-blue skanks” moved into town. It’s a question for the ages, my friends. Perhaps we will never know the answer. // 9 Comments
// Filed under: Life on Monday September 05th 2005, 9:44 am From 1200 miles across the Tasman she writes, her fingers not always on time, but always delightful. Confusion and intrigue envelop me in alternation - there is something greater going on in these conversations than I can fathom. Back and forth we twirl, an issue skirted, a smiling parry. Something sits, out of focus, in the background. Behind the words it looms; I can’t see the details, but I know it’s important. I sense she knows more about it than I do; that perhaps she’d like to share. But I don’t dare ask, for while I may give of myself easily, others need more time. But, perhaps it is all in my head. Perhaps I read too deep into things. In the meantime, the music is beautiful, and the night ever young. And I’d love to keep dancing. // 2 Comments
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