You're skin and bones

I've been saying lots of goodbyes recently, mainly to friends from uni as they head homeward bound interstate, and for adventures overseas, for the semester holidays, and to the lovely the Cactus Collective as they are about to embark on their first national tour this week. Each farewell takes its little toll as each traveller leaves this place for now but at the same time, I'm looking forward already to the tidal wave of nice reunions in a couple of weeks or so. I say goodbye to Lewis tomorrow night, getting my first taste of romance in this business; where I'm totally accustomed to using my romantic ventures as songwriting material, I'm not used to the practical side of musicians dating - I've only just realised extended touring absences are inevitable! 

Every time I have to say goodbye to someone, I become a superstitious, ancient  grandmother. I just wring my hands, wary of any adventure that takes a loved one further than a 50km radius from my arms, plead with them to 'stay safe, stay safe!' and wrack my brain for any more words of warning to impart even though I am the least-well-travelled (worst travelled?) person I know ('watch out for...monkeys? Malaria? Australians in Bintang singlets?') Jerry Seinfeld has this bit about what you say at the end of a date when you know you're never going to see that person ever again: 'Take care now. Take care. Now. Because I won't be there to take care of you, so you should really take care, NOW." I think that's what I'm trying to get at, when I say goodbye to people before extended separations; when they are within my line of sight and my arms' reach, I can take care of them to some degree, but when they're away, for some reason, I forget that pretty much everyone I know is more than qualified and capable to take care of themselves, thank you very much...

I really like the videoclip to 'Yellow'. It makes me want to cry forever. Here are some pictures from where I'd rather be: