is my love, my place to be, to muse what is on my mind without guilt. that makes sense and even if it doesn't it my place and sometimes life doesn't make sense. now i like to make sense of stuff, i like to order it about and get it into place but there's just some stuff that refuses to be ordered about and organised. It hangs about in the background like chewing gum that you can't get off of the inbetween bits in your shoe, then you go outside and you really have a mess stuck to the bottom of your nice new shoes. The ones that you really want to keep clean and neat. So off they come and you scrub and pick and sometimes they come clean and sometimes they don't, used to spend ages doing this stuff, cleaning till stuff was as good as they could be. Last year my neighbour died and i stopped scrubbing, i couldn't see the point and didn't think i had the time - frankly i'm not sure what i have been doing with my time but my the state of some of the bathroom crevices it's not cleaning. How come i'm so affected by his death, we weren't close, rarely had a 'chat'. Oh, we said hello, i gave him a lift to work a couple of times but didn't consider that i knew him well. I knew his habits, shall we say, living in a flat next door you get to know someones habits but i don't feel i knew him. i didn't think he'd die, my partner found him and asked me to help and as i knew him better than my partner i took charge and called the ambulance, stayed with him, talking to him, telling him what i was doing. i thought he'd come round, i thought, bloody *** gavin, you really were in a state to fall down your stairs, i thought how his head would hurt when he woke up and joked with the emergency operator. i didn't know he wouldn't wake up ever. i thought about his mum and how i could tell her where he was so he wasn't in hospital by himself. they sent a policeman round to look at where he'd been found, they couldn't tell us how he was, i asked him to try and contact his mum who i know lived near but not where. they did and he wasn't alone when he died a few days later. his sister was also in the same hospital after having another stroke, he wasn't old, in fact he was the same age as me. The blood may have gone outside our flats and i walk past where he lay at least twice everyday but somehow nearly a year later i can't seem to find the time to clean the bubble gum off my shoe. I think tonight i'll look at the soles of my shoes and take the time to pick them clean.