Sunday 26th April, the Bedsit, Parkway 21.38
I haven’t been outside all day-which IS SO BAD
Parkies must not lurk about indoors, oh no, specially not if they start to harbour
dark thoughts about the thousands of chatter chatter chattering fuckwits who
stroll endlessly past my window, my now open window, it being proper sunny, so
that I can hear ever last fucking thoughtless unrecorded syllable of their timeless
careless mindless foolish bant as it flows to and fro. Feelings, thoughts, ideas (or
no ideas), effortlessly, automatically turning to words that pour so smoothly from
their pristine lips, oiling the social space so slickly that I want to FUCKING
SCREAM…
- as The Boss puts it1
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published
It's just talk, talk, talk, talk 'Til you lose your patience
It’s now 22.10 and I foolishly thought I’d write this on my phone… who’s a fuckwit..?
It’s now 00.24 on Monday 27th and I’m pleased with the bit above2 so I’m going to hack on for a bit longer. Today I went to have my wound dressed and in the afternoon went to my podiatrist - the wonderful C. who sorted out my damn toe and made a most beautiful foam and Elastoplast cradle for the toe which meant that I walked up my Parkway with Q Crisp light smile on my lips and thinking that maybe there was life in the old beast yet…
Speaking of which here as quick escape for me is the poem from the wonderful Patricia Locwood who I will repeat my urging you all to listen to her sane/mad convo on this LRB podcast
By Patricia Lockwood
A wonderful, funny and ultimately profoundly moving piece about that most wonderful thing that woman have in their pants (or not as the case may be).
State Trooper one of Bruce Springsteens simplest songs from his bleak but totally honest album Nebraska.. a simple song but so full of power
I was pleased with how I’d slipped in words from Lear “til the last syllable of recorded time..” and put together the flow of the words to describe how utterly shit it feels sometimes when all the rest of the world can chat away without thinking while I for all my pumped up punk attitude am just a mumbling retard cut of from the flow of life…
LYRICS LESS RANDOM
Its fuck of music like this which makes life worth living…more on this in the next post…perhaps…
Feeding my malaise by the spoon
With fully enthused chugs and "here comes the train!"
Onus creeps but I stay blameless
Circumstantially useless
Still unoccupied
Meandering gets less charming the longer you don't try
It's on the list but not marked urgent
Reminiscences play at the wrong speed, out of context
A malicious mind shines a fond light
On what can't be altered
Plain sight's way too bright!
Onus, is that you?!
Malaise, don't worry go back inside!
Onus screams "you're not blameless at all!"
Watch the snail endlessly weave
A labyrinth of its own slimе
In fear of hope you nevеr leave
Just trace the trail behind closed eyes
And hope you wake on time
https://genius.com/Mould-snails-lyrics
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.