The snow has melted and with it gone all the magical reflective light. The days grow darker and colder, biting through my gloved fingers as i scribble this hunched up on my beloved park bench. how can this be the next year when the winter has not peaked? as a boy this nonsense always vexed me. ancients of these islands and my own new year have always been signalled by first sight of gilded trumpets in march. 2011 means little to me, if im really in any year i am still in the last one and will remain up until the day again i see daffodils. flashback 85. I sympathise on how attempting to teach an abstract concept as time was no easy task with a peculiar child, but still struggle to forgive being branded as slow for seeing it as something relative. Just like then i now only see truth in nature. She is sleeping these days, if was not for the evergreens you could be convinced that she was dead and gone. there is no day only continual dusk shifting into night in this purgatory. I took a scenic route to my bench this morning cutting through whippendell woods to the rough patch of slanted green where i pray no dogs can foul the oasis. like an untapped bitter rocket all year long dandy lion leaves wait to be foraged. bitters make us grow up just as the sweets make us babies. i do miss the calming summer tea gifted by the flower heads. What the Funk does this ish have to do with dance? you may ask. well very little to be true, but like most of us council estate yoots my diet was always piss poor frozen packet shite microwaved then off to the G.P weekly for more sanctioned poisons. on introducing fresh greens, especially wild foods health and directly dance have notably improved. I love tooth of lion, i even seen her spouting up between concrete cracks in grittiest of hoods and think to myself on how the mouther provides and we deem the gifts as weeds. call me mad if you will as i sit journaling in chilly london drizzle with a bag full of unwanted plants destined for my ramen. ashamedly I confess to very little yip yip since the snow left us over the so called new year. the damp often forces In The Park to the confines of In The Filthy YMCA Squash Courts, and  spirit into Seasonally Affected Depression. S.A.D innit. do try to make a daily park pilgrimage but the elements are against us and as much as the complexion says native, the heart cries for tropics. not seen the Sun in how many days? Father when will you return and bring back life to me and this land? is this day or night? dawn noon or dusk? is this blood in my veins? im not quite sure if im alive. even the tree tops jazz is subdued. gotta do something to get it moving but the concrete skipping is out as the knees cant take the poundage. force myself to roll some heavy rope begrudgingly, just a quick one to shrug off the cold. Flash, the sky blanket cracks and our brilliant Star kisses my face. Flash. hidden again just as quickly as he came. did that really just happen? cant tell. best roll this rope before the bite sets in and we just call it a day. roll hard for bout three minutes until lungs burn. Instinctively I look up to see the blue grey beast materialising slow motion between foggy trees and darting strait at me. freeze. is it confused by the rope, thinks this a game? now can see glazed eyes, tucked ears and pearly fangs exposed. this bitch aint playing and just a few meters from me now at full pelt. Dam. I'd completely forgotten this moment but been here more than once as a skinny paper boy half a life ago. remembering from experience that as tempting the monkey urge to run is, I gotta take the alternative. fixing a wide stance dead centre and leaning forward on tippy toes, wait for it, wait for it, bend knees, wait for it, lean forward,dont crack wait for it, deep breath, wait for it, look her in her eyes wait till that very last split moment. the leap attack almost meets us face to face, pull thighs together twist and matador that bitch in pure poetry. the runaway train cuts strait past and crashes into my bench. i swear i could cry OLAY over an arrogant shoulder but just grunt and lick that bitch across the back with the rope. HA! amazingly she turns and comes at me again seemingly unfazed but sluggish now sans sprint, she leaps. crane stanced high on back leg defending with the front foot, rope raised ready to strike. fake a lick once, twice, this is the best dance ive had in years. the blue grey beast stops sparing and fixes a stationary confusing stare right in the eyes. almost looks disappointed, should i strike again? ears and head raise and turn as if hearing something out of monkeyman range and then Poof. back into the misty brush where she came from like a dart. what was that all about? why do some take a dislike for no reason when others want to greet every soul they meet? i remember forcibly loosing that puppy urge when twice bitten by consequence. it is what it is. i take this omen and resolve to squash court head spinz before the heavens fully open. YMCA ten minutes away just in time avoiding a proppa soaking and in the dusty courts i try but fail to skip some rope, just not bouncy today, then fail an attempt at some hand stands, well that aint happening is it. apathetically stretch some more. sleep is all i crave these days and struggle to snap out of it. SNAP OUT OF IT! head spins OK, thats what we came for, no no no they just not happening todaynight either. cant find the centre and desperately search for anything external to blame. yeah the floors are not level innit, and the dust wont allow hand grip and the hat grips way too much etc etc bs bs bs. knowing full well what the core problem is. the core. countless years of shallow breathing and a seeping heart chacra cultivated pokey out ribs and bruised nucleus. I must stop indulging in suffering and learn to cap this crap if im ever gonna stand up tall again, i need to ground down, let alone dare to  take flight. chacra does not easily mould and ribs don't go in without a fight, yes they sat atop a flabby gut five minutes ago but that went out with all the boozing. the resulting loose abs and spine arch is not just an ugly line  pulling off turns, but the whole essential up down connection is muted. knowing these truths for many years I never was a convincing lier. transparent like all fake orgasms i never managed the jump strait to heaven and  refused to pay necessary devotions. Just ran away and self intoxicated to near oblivion as all the fears manifested into a host of demons. head spins can wait, try some of locking. been told you know how that one works. just about manage to force out an eight count before it's gone like attempting to recall a dream. standing sober the joy is elusive and these steps are  foreigners, alone and estranged from an old friend. slap myself to STOP IT! gotta turn up the beats to drown out that monkey mind with funky music. that bs voice in your head is not you and never was, inherited from cults and cultures. just breathe life in deep and shake it out. no more indulging in pointless suffering, that has done its path and its time to move on.  you are only obliged to be beautiful for you know that the Sun will soon return.