Odd
I like it when life turns turtle - when things turn upside down and there's that oddly off-centre feeling in the tummy, the feeling that always puzzled me as to how to name it until I rode my first rollercoaster. I spose it's weightlessness - that sense of floating while the world shifts and rearranges itself around you, like the point during an action flick where the cops leave the ground at the top of a hill and the camera captures a frozen glance betwen them.

So, B is leaving on Saturday for maybe a year overseas in China. It's good for her and sad for me. And here's me at 12.47 editing a friend's love letter, wondering at the bizarrities of life. Editing his letter (he's nervous) feels odd, ghostwriting a courtship, and each phrase I delete and replace with something less stilted makes me feel less an actor and more part of the action. And last week, a man in his sixties extended his friendship to me on the train and we talked about his superannuation and his management consultancy and his growing up in then-Rhodesia and then he subtly offered me sex, a grandfatherly-looking man with wandering eyes, peaked skin and a face like a recovering cancer victim. He gave me his card, offered me a massage and told me he could "come to mine" if I liked, devouring my crotch with his eyes. And B told me the next day she was leaving very soon, after months of uncertainty had inured me to the possibility of life without her.