late post today, i did a big bike ride with my pals here in lanzarote. i went off ahead by myself and got lost. had to cut across a gravel path. i was shouting fuck fuck fuck etc. saw an egret.
this line refers to a visit of my friends m. l. and s. l., who are brothers. and i didn’t tell my barber. i suppose ultimately she had no right to know. the image below is intented to evoque memories of diane from twin peaks. rip david lynch.
ah well yes. i can’t be typing hmm? at the start of all my text messages. i don’t know when i acquired the ah habit. it’s still going strong. ah thanks for this useful new information / ah that is funny / ah well isn’t that lovely / ah i suppose the funeral will be expensive / ah i just stepped on a wasp
i have a few noises i suppose. i must have been hmming a lot in early february. sadly i left last year’s diary at home this week. but noises come and go. i pick them up from odd places. echolalia from the television and jip like this.
a sort of deep throat sigh that i can’t explain verbally. a sympathetic groan. a palette cleanser – due to my autism, i struggle to speak if i haven’t anticipated the situation. words honk out wrongly. a long hmm gives me a little time to process maybe.
and in this case its a non-answer to the question from the previous line. i’m saying hmm but the image is of the aegean water i surely will drink.
still tired! heading out on a 90km hilly loop after breakfast though and excited to ride the bike.
this line continues the greek tragic allusion. should i allow myself to be led into temptation? but that’s not really what i mean. am i ready to drown for love is more what i’m getting at. (dear reader, the answer is yes.)
i’m exhausted. in lanzarote. up at 5am. was meant to be up at 4. anyway, here now, dehydrated. unpacked. about to build up the bike. then a shower and an early night i think.
this line builds on the if from the opening line, which itself was a reference to kipling, and is intended as a mashed reference to the greek god hercules, the philosopy of rousseau (man is born free, everywhere else he is in chains) and descartes (cogito sum, i think therefore i am). i guess the idea is that the societal structure we live under necessarily limits the scope of our imaginations, and nothing can overcome that.
i remember an old school friend, a.r., describing our music teacher, mr h., as a ‘solar powered sex machine’ when we were about 14. thanks, a.r., i am still laughing. maybe that makes me very immature. mr h. thought ratm were pro capitalism ?! wasn’t a regular smoker but got through 40 on a night out.
this is a spectacularly bad screen grab. but i’m running with it as i have a busy day. going on a bike holiday tomorrow. exhausted. need to pack.
i suppose i still had burns on my mind from the burns night celebrations. i had been at a friend’s for a haggis supper. i had hoped i might get a chance to recite some poetry, but it didn’t seem to be the vibe.
i like that there are some elemental homophones going on in the line. burns, like fire; air, like wind; and wll ice is water. and burns are also water. i don’t think the good people of compton celebrate cube suppers yet though. maybe in two hundred years?
january is the worst month of the year. 2025 is only getting better now. stanza 2 ‘witness (1 dope)’ is live on youtube/insta/the blog from tomorrow and is already up on apple music, spotify, etc
so ostensibly this line is about post-brexit toblerone. prices have indeed risen and qualify has dipped. whether it is toblerone widing its valleys, or cadbury changing its recipe.
but its also about brexit. and about late stage, hyper unequal, billionaires and paupers style capitalism. we privatise, financialise, put the price up and reduce the quality. the trick might have worked in 1979. but that was a very long time ago.
we are at the first chorus. i decided i wanted to write a poem about brexit called ‘toblerone’ ages ago. in 2016. the brexit referendum result came out on my birthday. i was genuinely devastated. a vote for shear stupidity.
anyway. i had the spinal tap yesterday. went to the doctor with a sore neck and this is what they do to me. I am done with western medicine. it turns out i just needed a neck massage and some rest. so i quit my job. one of the best feelings you can get under capitalism.
so i wanted to quit my job today, but instead i find myself at hospital waiting to undergo a lumbar puncture to check for signs of brain disaster. which reminds me of the last time I quit a job, ten years ago, and i had a broken hip. i rushed back to the office as it felt a bit weird to give my notice via email from hospital. isn’t the universe mystical?
anyway, i was given the decision to make re the lumbar puncture. and i am a fearty. so tempted to draw a line under the affair. but i shouldn’t make another bad january decision just because i’m stressed and scared of a bit of needle.
the love epochal. n.n. benn 