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Impatience

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Jayne Dullahan

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Often I have written of moments of blitz, the artistic condition that smites the distant eye and traps the artist between observance and feeling. But blitzfast as these moments are, they perhaps are born of an impatience, a ceaseless wish for something to happen.

I sit outside, it is past midnight, the moon waxes over ridges and a river roars close by. When will they come? I can't sit here all night! When does the next thing happen? I could be inside with the others watching a movie, but the thought of sitting still amongst others...it's...they...are too slow for my wandering mind. Outside alone I can sit still, but still my mind wanders rash over the land and sky, over the roar of the river and the wind...looking for something happening.

Always rushing ahead of time to find the next moment, a moment to savor...why so anxious for these other moments, these nonblitz moments, to end?

I'll never have this moment again and yet in my anxiousness I run inside to write about why I rush ahead to moments that aren't yet, that happen fast and die quickly, rather than finding some other sense, one that langors in the moment that lasts, that lasts quietly and slowly. I agonise over the minutes that slug by, when here--here is a moment that lasts, one one can savor with all senses; I mourn the death of the moment of blitz, and pay no heed to the opportunity of a moment that seems it may never end.

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thats excellent Jayne - cool!

impatience

a restlesness

searching the horizon

them they watching them the agony sometimes

im restless to day i sense a change the wind and light are just right but can i muster the necessary

effort it takes to express represent

the words for me, writing a sentence is hard work!

your words look like they have poured effortlessly from your mind.

mine come out like pebbles then i have to sort them out!

oh oh oh! to day is a day the wind the light the cry of the sea gull the green after the rain a change reading the change sometimes i turn my back and sometimes i just let it swallow me up

sarah

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thats excellent Jayne - cool!

impatience

a restlesness

searching the horizon

them they watching them the agony sometimes

im restless to day i sense a change the wind and light are just right but can i muster the necessary

effort it takes to express represent

the words for me, writing a sentence is hard work!

your words look like they have poured effortlessly from your mind.

mine come out like pebbles then i have to sort them out!

oh oh oh! to day is a day the wind the light the cry of the sea gull the green after the rain a change reading the change sometimes i turn my back and sometimes i just let it swallow me up

sarah

Jayne I feel sometimes I wish i could put you in sync with the rest of the world but then those moments you would not know the beauty as we know is often in the waiting the tragic in the depths of despair can come the rush those motes of stars made of wonder dust and the intensity beyond words as if the whole of time has gathered in one spot and to see it, to sense it, a rush of every sense and feeling known to man.

could I give that up all the loney wandering looking waiting watching for the next rush.

I touch you Jayne on the lonely nights know i am waiting too

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