Tuesday, November 21, 2006

And the circus leaves town...

Tip toe tipe toe, have to be careful where I go, don't want to upset the applecart, don't want to turn the clock back and maketh the mistaketh. Fatboy might be a Balding-Has-Been but he was right about me, I've come a long, long way together. With myself. But if cliches ring true, and there's no more wicked than I, then the last thing I can afford to do is rest. I drink a coffee, no cigarette. And fight fire to keep my focus. Stay awake Mr. B. Keep your eyes on the road ahead.


Inside it bursts a dam but ain't no river just a trickle and a wave of nostalgia rolling and flowing around rocks that have been there for years now. There is no erosion no path is new anymore the water knows which way to go because it's been this way a thousand times before. Melts from the mountain down the slope deep into the valley and on the outside I don't even worry about floods anymore or open rusting round valves to let some of it out. I simply and calmly recognise it for what I am. This is my nature.


In the sun I lose ten years. I have knee high converse and tatty shorts with an open Western while I ride a BMX. Sometimes in the back streets I smoke while I ride, and listen to Kyuss on the iPod to complete the journey back in time. Everything is intensely laconic. Everyone has a towel. And there are a thousand couples kissing a thousand kisses. I pretend like I know how to jump, like it's an accomplishment to jump onto the kerb, and leave my cigarette dangling while I do. That's how fucking ghey it is when you're a man in black on bicycle.


I send off my hope for the future.

I sugar soap a small part of my wall, where I plan to stick my first rejection slip.

If they even have them anymore, even a piece of rejection paper seems too personal in days like these.


Really deep down I'm Fire and Earth a fucking Volcano ready to erupt on your face all heat and hot red but when I look up and over my lip there ain't nothing there but a couple o'virgins scared to make the jump.

I guess it looks mighty scary deep down in the fire.


  1. too much to read for a short attention spa... ooohh!!! shiney!!!!
    bring on the "conversations I've had" (only sort of kidding)x

  2. I was gonna wallpaper my toilet with rejection letters then I realised there were no actual letters, they were emails which I can't be bothered printing, and phone calls and bumping intos at random events, and I didn't even have any proof of my rejections.
    No wonder we are so fucked up our gen, even our rejections are ephemeral.