There are times in one's life that are good, other times that are better than good and times that are just pure magic. I think that I am in one of those latter times right now. If it gets any better I'll burst. If I don't stop smiling I think my face will crack and I can't believe that any drug is better than this.

I think I've overdone the surfing metahpor. I guess what bothers me is the repertoire of metaphors one has for live n such and if you only have a few does that make you n-dimensional, where n is a number less than 5. There has to be a theorem in there somewhere.

I can confirm dear blog reader (dbr - and why is it that we live in acronym world?) that today is a good day and tomorrow, hopefully even better. There is a state of mind, body and soul that when it aligns seems to cause all three to resonate in harmony, well, the nearest thing one gets to harmony when you are old n creaky. You can do this on your own but it works rather well when you have someone who shares it, triggers it, nurtures it. And so i am claiming more than my fair share of whatever the large habit maker in the sky has handed out in this regard.

And, that is the other thing about life, metaphors and themes, the stuff one seems to fall back on when one is trying to dig the more interesting bits (well, odd, werid, strange, positively loopy bits) from deep inside. So I use old, creaky often now. I certainly don't want to be, who does? Need to try young and toddling instead I think. That does remind me of a favourite line, still not knowing what I want to be when I grow up. Some folk chuckle when I say that and others, well you get that look!

Babbling. It can be good to babble. It can be good to do a lot of stuff but most of that does not easily map onto words although authors through the ages have tried. How do you capture a look, a smile, a glance, a touch in words? About as well as you caputre catching the perfect wave! Argh! Trapped.

Off to shop and buy shiny things and things to drink from for the most special person on the planet, proably solar system and most likely universe although I used to tease her that there were probably about 951 women on the planet just like her that I had not bumped into. I've revised that number right down to the first prime and feel very good about that. I hope she does also.

Surfing offers a handy way to talk about life, love, and all those other L words. There are times when surfing, and lest you be in any doubt the surfing to which I refer is with the body not that artificial gig that is done on a large piece of fibreglass, that you find yourself in turbulent water and, thus far, you always get out of it. But at times it can be somewhat scary as in those times when you become so disoriented you don't know where the surface is. There are times when there is a lull and you wait for the next set in which that perfect ride might just appear and there are times, mythic times when the waves run all day, and the only thing that stops you is pure physical exhaustion. Life, like surfing is a lot like that.

For as long as I can recall I have had this thing for water. Not so much for driking but given the proportion of the body that is water not something to be ignored, but the water that one can swim in, dive in, surf in, splash about in. I guess the place where I have my fondest memories are on beaches, beaches like 13th which is not far from where we now live and when we were growing up was walkable from where we used to holiday.

Even pools (preferably largely empty) do it as well. Maybe it is all Freudian and about returning to the womb or some such but there is, for me and I guess the many who enoy water, a real buzz about pushing one's body through it, catching a cresting wave, gliding noiselessly through the depths, even being wiped out by a wave you knew you should not have taken.

There are other things one can do but it all about memories and water I guess and they are not just memories qua memories. The body remembers also. The tingling feel on a hot day, northerly blowing, cresting waves when the rest of the world simply stops existing.