Thursday, August 23

Untitled (Numerous)

THE LIGHT ON THE BUSHES – I knew it was my brother because I heard his car roll over the drain. Only my brother rolls over the drain like that, and it makes a thick metallic clunking noise across the small road because he’s had years practice. The security light comes on. It disturbs me; I am absentmindedly staring into a bush. I don’t know why I’m staring into a bush but I am. When the security light comes on the bush is lit up and nothing behind it – not the houses or the carpark or the washing lines or the wooden steps where the children play – is visible. So I am just staring at the bush and looking at the fine branches that poke about in the middle of it.

THE PAIN IN MY ARM – Otis Redding had a pain in his heart. I have a pain in my right arm. Possible cause: overuse. I don’t use my left enough (yet if I were to jump off of a building it would be my left foot that touched the ledge last). My right arm is victim to a shooting pain that runs from my elbow down to my thumb. It is involved heavily in the following: rolling cigarettes, typing (business & pleasure), holding a plectrum, holding my penis, texting, uncorking wine bottles, holding a cigarette, pushing a pen to paper, operating lightswitches. I wonder – ‘Should I take a break from all of the above?’ but then I remember that I can’t; that would just be silly.

THE PERFECT BIRTHDAY – I’d like to wake up without a hangover and watch a comedy to wake myself up. Comedies wake me up. If I sit down to watch it then my back can stop aching, too, which it always does in the morning. For breakfast I would like sardines in tomato sauce & tabasco on toasted brown bread, a grapefruit, a pot of coffee and two cigarettes. Then I will go for a swim and have a shower afterwards. I will play some guitar with the window open (Neil Young, Simon & Garfunkel). For lunch we will go to the Boathouse and be served very fine food. We will step into one of the boats in the river and ride in the opposite direction to the one we travelled last year. We will avoid the overhanging branches. In the evening, if need be, a takeaway KFC would be grand. Then some more guitar (Mars Volta or Mastodon). I would like to watch ‘The Big Lebowski’ and laugh with some sweets, too. In the evening I will have a bottle of red Bordeaux, read and write. Finally I will make myself come and sleep a long good sleep. But since I was eleven I haven’t wanted my birthdays to happen.

THE NECK – She is too young to know what’s what. She couldn’t possibly know what she’s doing. It’s an accident. Some people are accidents waiting to happen. Her accident happened in time for her sixteenth birthday. For a start she brushes her blonde-brown hair around her neck, so that one side of her neck is totally exposed. She has the sort of neck that vampires request when they go to an expensive restaurant. No one wears their hair like that (except maybe the protagonist’s love-interest in a late nineteenth-century Norwegian novel). Then, her eyebrows, completely out of character with her home county, are thick and arched. Her eyebrows belong to a Disney villainess. Don’t let me put you off. Come see for yourself. I saw her laughing loudly today. She laughed so hard that she had to rest on a desk. That’s as good as it gets.

THE TWENTY-EIGHT-YR-OLD – ‘So,’ he said, stopping me outside of the kitchen in the office, ‘you’re going to be how old now?’ ‘Twenty-seven.’ He is one of those young men, a couple years older than me, who is doomed. He doesn’t stand a chance. He is already digging his grave or something more sinister, something that’ll swallow him whole, and he keeps on digging. He wants something he can’t ever put his hands on. He is dying while egging himself on. ‘There are a lot of young people in this office now–’ ‘Tell me about it,’ I said ‘I feel like I’ve been promoted or something to senior member of staff.’ ‘… Yes, don’t you think it’s time you grew up?’ ‘… No.’ ‘Yes, I think it’s time you grew up and stopped acting like a child.’ ‘No.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘No.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘No.’ ‘Yes.’ Satisfied that our childish back and forth had run its course, I ceased, turned, smiled and walked away.

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