Sunday, May 28, 2006

84

"This music is good" (Minuit). Our intervention is by extension: we want new vocabularies to be spoken at the local before they close all the pubs and the clubs. (It's not what we're thinking; it's how we're thinking.) Carpet slippers for all as we tuck ourselves in by 10.30 PM. Our roots are fibers. Our green fatigues are dirty. Enough of the drop already, enough of the fall. There's a space between us and the garden. A break and a loop. We make no claims to be who we are--you can pretend we're not from 'round here if you like. But we could be from next door. We're as natural as Polly & Ester, as filthy as Danny & Lester, and we're mocking the mandatory local accents.

85

"But I'm not done yet" (Minuit). Midnight. The rain was said to lash againt the window like a Mancunican charwoman throwing her dregs out on the flags. I was dreaming of waves looking at the red light of the transitor radio floating like a buoy in the room's dark ocean. The concert programme was on softly playing a string concerto that tightened all the nerves down my back--just to be sure that you're sleeping alone--Beckett's Molloy on the bedside table laughing at me like an unlucky deal. The concerto sounds like Minuit breaks: linear progression was always a dream of the jingle when we're all really spinning around in eliptical loops coming back to same spot in the path but a little older for the journey. We're all looking for a place to defect to away from all our own defections. But we find ourselves back in the same place, a little older, not quite done yet. Just to be sure.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

88

And everything. There was too much conditioner in the morning air. It looked like chi chi. Sprites in the laundry waiting for the lawn to dry. She was in the bedroom reading a research bibliography. About a condition. All those doors and sign, all those diagnostic tests. “The world is full of creeps and freaks and you” (Minuit). I’m going to put the shower on now and after me and you are going to have a little walk. I could barely hear her over the machinery next door. Blood is thicker than water.

87

mountainous, battleship grey breakers, you ride them waiting for them to push you down. Don't raise your arms above your head, don't open your mouth so wide.

86

couting down the days. just for the sake of it. to stop you forgetting, in your mother's room, the papers coming and going. not working for money. midnight in the middle of a bad week. rain at the window. candles. you count so as to reassure yourself that you are moving on. you count down: starting and stopping, dreaming of loops.