Odd

Does seem odd when I think about it. 2am and I am sat quite happily on my own private beach as I have been for the last 3 hours, and countless nights before. I see stars, i hear and see the waves rolling in, it is 26c, I looked round at the big electronic sign to check. I have my tunes on full blast on the boom box, a fag and a beer. And of course my internet connection to the rest of humanity. This is my living room, even when home I sit outside unless I am in bed sleeping. I spent last winter cocooned inside a box in England, never ever ever ever again. I can't handle it, that is a solid immovable truth. The solitude of the deserted beach has its dangers, e-mails, texts, and once in a blue moon a phone call will find me, a quarrel, disturbing news, the end of a relationship, still find their way here mostly, some of them ephemeral passing in the night, as do my thoughts, others more substantial. The demons come and go, what starts out as a jolly on the beach can in a moment turn into a heart tearing struggle for calm and composure after another vitriolic message from the ether. But this is my motherfucking living room, and here I shall motherfucking stay, riding out the waves, real, metaphorically or imaginary. Odd.