o wean in a manger,
your chocolate trough
it’s a preposterous amount but
somehow never enough
i have a theory
that love is pain
different but the same
if there is one thing i have learned, it is that love is pain. love will always hurt. you have so much tied up in it. but it is worth it because a life without it is devoid of the highs and lows that are emblematic of the life poetic.
i’m a basic bitch consumer
i just wanna be humoured
eat this pish
it’s a fancy foreign dish
while i appreciate expertise
i’m keener to fetishise
passionate begginerism
call for a strong and stable new era
are the good souls ready
to forget forgiveness
and embrace the love
that burns old epochs down?
dear reader: we embraced the love. it was a shame to burn the old epochs down. but one must live now, in the present. it’s the only show playing.
and aside from one final chorus, this is the end of part two of the love epochal. and it’s a happy ending! please join me in part 3, giletdonism, in which i start a new job, embark on a career as a poet and writer, and embrace gilets in my casual wardrobe.
airport toblerone? spoiled child
and a backpack of packs of lambert and butler
i have a theory that good things wait for those who come
different but the same
i remember back in the heady days of the european union when there was free movement of goods and persons. when a soul could stock up on several thousand cigarettes at the airport shop, sold in such a big packet that it came with straps so it could be easily transported back to blighty.
we have always lived in absurd times.
it wasn’t the biggest toblerone, but it is more than you are meant to eat really. and total junk. evil delicious junk designed by neutral swiss scientists.
ah well. so it’s a year i’ve had these airpods now. returning from an early morning climbing session, my airpod escaped the ear canal and went for the drain instead. i presume anyway. i looked for a while then went to argos and bought new ones. can’t live an adequate life without headphones.
in the 90s i used to take long coach trips. to france, italy, spain. one year, i must have been 7 or 8, for entertainment we got a documentary about elvis pressley. i was instantly obsessed. and then suddenly bereaved – my hero was dead before i even knew him. i cried. i listened to elvis tapes. i got a leather jacket. quite autistic, in retrospect.
i don’t listen to as much elvis these days. but i will always love the king. and if suspicious minds comes on the radio, i will give it my full attention every time.
i met a pal at the supermarket and i think he mentioned he had recently had an injury to the testicles. and then i bought some kippers…
i had jerk fish and chips at a carribean themed restaurant and it was really nice. best fish and chips ever probably. there must have been a pineapple chutney or something. it reminded me of roots manuva’s witness (1 hope). and to avoid accusations of plagiarism, i named the verse ‘witness (1 dope)’, me being the dope eating the jerk and summoning the power of banana clan.
so i have a pair of basketball shorts i wear to the gym that are too big for me, so i need to tie the waistband quite tight. but then i have to undo it if i want to pee. what a pain in the arse. then i realised i can just pee out the leg of the shorts. also useful on the bike or out for a trail run.
sleepy as hell this morning after a big day on the bike in the hills in the sun yesterday. at this time last year i was riding my gravel bike in the some cold scottish forest in prep for a trip to gran canaria. and i was riding some new wheels.
earlier trip this year so yesterday i was lost on the road bike on a gravel track lost alone in lanzarote having a meltdown and shouting expletives.
the love epochal. n.n. benn 