tonight, as deb kissed me, she looked into my eyes and told me i have green eyes. i never knew what colour my eyes were, my passport has hazel, but what the fuck colour is hazel? green is cool, i'm still smiling, i never knew.

tomorrow night we go and see bob dylan and patti smith in concert. i think it's going to be wonderful.

Sometimes do you just smile? I just did, am now. A goofy smile for no real reason, sun breaking through a cloudy mind.

I love listening to Debbie laugh. She does it unselfconsciously, I know she's happy when she laughs.

It's strange how time is telescoped. An hour, a day might drag, and yet today and 10 years ago sit side by side in your memory.

Does your self accrete layers as you age, building a being around your essence? Or do you cast aside a husk and transform periodically? Or are there multiple selves, playing out concurrently and asynchronisticly?

Sometimes writing this journal is a trip into the unknown. I have no idea what I will write when I sit down. Tonight's like that, searching around for a dry piece of kindling that will splutter into flame.

I like the sound and rhythm and texture of words. I like trying to beat and shape meaning from, at times, recalcitrant materials.

And then of course you get called from your study to help your wife put your baby son to bed and ohmygod he's so soft and lovely and sleepy in her arms as you open the doors quietly so as not wake him and his eyes flutter under his lids and he sighs and Debbie holds his head as she lays him down and tucks him in and all your words fail you and all your philosophy is rendered void as your heart melts and your soul sings and you close out the lights and shut the door.