"The Vaulted Sky of Partners (In Crime)..."💗
🤍CONFESSIONAL MUGSHOTS & MUSINGS INCLUDES MIXTAPE 🤍
If you like your newsletters without politics or preconceptions or seeking a break from the norm you may have just found your new hangout
28 March 2025 - (below) MUGSHOT & MUSINGS
Dear Chasers💗
My sense of being a failure against close loved ones parasitic connections toward me making me feel marginal in my own reality has never quite left me. My old restlessness may have been brought on afresh after losing interest in the MUSE I’ve had since 2022 and in the fine crack of estrangement that has recently re-appeared between my partner and I.
Obviously, sitting at my desk thinking hard is not going to bring me any closer to the source of my unease (especially as he’s staring me in the face, or just above the hairline, most of the time), but I believe that writing these letters to the world outside might propel me further away from, not the finishing line, but to a more natural unbiased solution for my future maybe?
ALL CREATURES YEARN TO PERSIST THEIR BEING - Observed by Spinoza
Will I come to a solution that doesn’t involve me hurtling backwards into the familiar antique desolation, acute loneliness and quicksand of despair?
I come into those memories as flashbacks where the images are felt by emotion and sounds trickle down my spine dressed up as fear, my strength and dexterity stays tied down in my self-preservatory creativity means that I take more damage; my low impact weapon grade E is the price paid for such luxury. I remain in the firing line, still standing, blindfolded (in the dark).
The only place where I know who I am or can be are within these pages, on a dark screen, underneath the the soul of a chomebook’s keyboard. I run away to inboxes; not for people to help or understand me. Not for you to read and feel me. Not to leave my digital footprint for when I am gone. Just to live on in the process. To process my thoughts of who I am and have somewhere safe, somewhere where I know I do one hundred percent belong.
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest- that I loved the best-
Are strange- nay, rather stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below- above the vaulted sky.
Written by John Clare We are all writing the story of our life, we want to know what it’s about what are it’s themes and which theme is on the rise.
I demand of it something deeper - more substantive. I want to know where it’s heading sometimes - not to run to the finishing line to make sure or try to prevent the ending being shallow or scary or just more shit than the middle bit (right now) and, in my case, my constant desire is to avoid my heart breaking over and over again. Meanwhile, I am habitually, perpetually, obliviously heartbroken.
I come here to break away from the coveted chorus to begin to learn the sound of my own voice. I’m reassessing what matters to me and what it is that I believe in as life feels more precious and weighty as I churn toward my mid-forties. It seems to be a microwave relationship that I have with myself at the moment forged from fast blasts of revelations and this time I’m unable to end it all. Wisdom is not something that I radiate but I know when to stop pretending that we’re all on the same staircase.
I fought hard to be able to love the man I loved, then the scrapping used to be focused on not losing the man I loved, now I’m foraging the deep dark forests of memories, time, longevity, happiness, safety, comfort, care, compassion, heartfelt intuition, longing, passion and desires within every fibre of my being just to help me choose NOT to forget to LOVE the man I loved.
The man who I sleep next to at night, who sends the first ‘good morning’ texts (to someone who isn’t me), the man who means more than ‘I love you’ the man I wake up to and see although those messages and sentiments may not be directly sent to me. I know they’re there all the same. If not to another person but somewhere between today and tomorrow, past and present; by dinner time and bedtime maybe his love and attention will revert back towards me. I don’t live in the moment per se - I live in those minutia moments where we’re bound united in love again. Partners in Crime.
EXIT SONG / FREE MIXTAPE xoxoxo
For some context see my ‘funny’ publication’s latest post:
Occasionally, I write elsewhere and above is the place I have recently re-branding to be my 'humour’ place, take with a pinch of salt ‘my tequila’ place. They say writing is running away without leaving home (yes! I do say that a lot and can’t recall now whose quote it actually was in the first place!) well, sometimes I used to run to all the ‘bad’ places to write. Like when I fell in love with the MUSE who was almost imaginary but then turned out to be a dangerous place to me and soon made me his enemy.
They say once you’ve loved some one you will always have love for them. That is how I know, well up until he started singing again recently, I knew it was NOT love - just another form of escapism. I will link my last letter to him here before I go, it was more to the world at large than to him directly, I intend to go write there again now or tomorrow maybe and put sleeping dogs to bed. If that means add closure to that MUSE and discuss future endeavours over there.
I still have dreams and we all find our muses, they come they go just like dreams.
“for in dreams, our future selves are being prepared” - Joyce Carol Oates.
I’m drifting again. This is it for tonight. My best wishes to you.
Yours Sincerely,
from your mate,
…Chasey💗
