i was trying to find a balanced way of living. making money, while also being creative. it was creeping up to the new year, when i would start publishing my poetry, and i had a lot of nerves and apprehension regarding this. i still do.
i also remain anxious about nuclear war. and i was starting to try and learn about music theory. a year on, i can just about bash a tune out of a piano. i’m better at melodica. haven’t got long enough fingers for the piano really. really crap at guitar.
oh and some of these lines were originally ‘funny’ ideas for my online dating profile.
another month ends. tomorrow it will be may. it’s the best time of year. the sun is out, the days are long, and the whole summer is to come. and i’ve got a new verse out tomorrow. and its a little bit different. let’s just say that last may was tough. we are hoping better. come what may
the donkeys are a reference to the philosophical paradox of buridan’s ass – the donkey is equally starving and parched. fortunately, food and water are close to hand. in fact, plentiful supplies of each are just 1 metre away. in opposite directions. so the donkey is unable to rationally decide whether to first eat or drink, and as a result, it dies of thirst and starvation.
i must be getting old. everything seems to expensive. £7 for a pint of beer? i remember when £2 was considered pricey. i don’t smoke any more, but i distinctly remember 10 packs of smokes for £1.36. they don’t even do ten packs any more and its most of £20 for a twenty deck. and the chocolate bars seem to have doubled in price in a mere couple of years.
i used to read about history, war, famine, strikes and all that, and think it was lucky i lived in the settled, modern world. sometimes now i wish i’d been born a million years ago. when human history does end, it will end with a bang, and not with the philosophy of francis fukuyama.
from snowy summits are mountained limbs of venomous frogspawn here is to the life pudendal blessedly unaffected by format rigidity. going home, i see the most expensive chocolate bar i’ve ever seen, heard of or read about and in a fog of lousy vibes await an operative positive.
i eek out my whole being in the dance from blue to green a witching hour meltdown throws her halo from my bed post an irrepressible exhibit from the sex museum the smell of our first kiss flutters by, a primal sense datum
i turn my snout at regret—the danger made it meaningful while my teenaged self-destruction echoes on (and on) a storm steals my ride so we climb pint eat and breeze (and on, and on) it’s better to be generous to the best of your means (and on, and on) (and on and on and on and on and on)
an intractable issue that we must address, and i guess the time is nowish how can you not trust me after all we have been through? is this the end for me and you? no and today is so much better than yesterday infinitely, nice things are nicer than nasty ones so i push through the pain in warm air for a buzz later savour the flavour of copper coins on dry tongue screw a shelf on, climb the wall, nacho un [] upable then a day indoors with the bug and drive a lurgy day in bed with that sunk feeling but the incessant mind plays the hits as usual. and the bin’s full / again i rely on a well meaning soul and forgive myself.
ineluctable loggerheads with events diaristic i wrestle you onto a future plane style glistens on surf with the setting sun and we act like we what we do is demonstrably normative but life as it is now only exists as it does now and the future and the past are a million moral universes
laser quest pivot to armpit sweat and nervous stutters give a dude a fish and you’ll win favour and patronage teach him angling and your monopoly will be lost forever
you advise your charge by bringing her advice you license your obsession by granting it licence “i was sat” means to sit, you were sitting badia brand tears in the box kitchen i was sleeping when the rascal slipped in on a bonnie mission you give notice, it’s official, the last issue i’m doing my homework so you can take me with you but the poison in the fang must be expunged or the course will be hellenic, terminal, explosive let’s not let bearable be the enemy of good if you don’t keep a diary, today is a good day to start
we borderline roll with the blows and try to process you can’t control your body, but we hope we can live with it repeat my mantra: i’m working so i don’t have to try so hard jump through the hoop, dont look, and stoop under the loop are two bunnies a good omen? or was it just a dusky lamb? i scuttle home sick in the night, not ready to be seen like this here and an astral month ends, mess everywhere, a solemn verdict awaited please god let all the good souls revel in forgiveness
what is it to be a human? in any instant, all there is are the sensations you feel, see, hear, etc. a temperature, the weight of the earth pushing against your feet or arse, your shirt label on your neck. and then there is the story you tell yourself these things mean. but you know, you could be a brain in a vat being fed false experiences by a computer. and you are free to tell yourself that story if you prefer it.
the love epochal. n.n. benn 