Wednesday, December 9, 2009
I THOUGHT I'D GIVE YOU THIS SEEING AS YOU'RE SO FUCKING INTERESTED
IN ANOTHER COUNTRY
She was standing there with everything spinning around her. The coffee table was pushed to the wall by the television.
‘I don’t have all my things,’ she said.
I set the cups on the table.
‘What is it?’ I said. ‘What don’t you have?’
‘I can’t concentrate here,’ she said gazing out to the hall and the front door. ‘I feel strange,’ she said.
She was biting at the skin around her nails. Her thumb was bent in her mouth.
I’d left some water in the pan.
‘What don’t you have?’ I said. ‘What is it you don’t have?’
She was shaking her head. Her mouth was moving.
‘Hey,’ I said, ‘you’ve got those.’ I pointed to the papers on the sofa. I picked up the ones that were on the floor.
I gave her a hug to slow her down.
We stood there a while.
I rested my head on hers.
She kissed my chest and kept ahold.
I lowered my right arm to stop hugging myself and squeezed tighter.
‘Don’t you have coffee?’ she shouted from the living room.
She was holding her cup in both hands, knees tucked under her chin in the corner of the sofa.
‘I asked you if you wanted coffee,’ I said walking back from the kitchen.
She turned to the balcony. She still had some of the crimson paint on her nails. She’d been working with the council helping kids. She’d painted all round the edges. Most of the paint had chipped and disappeared. She’d never painted that thumb.
She shook something out of her head.
‘I can make coffee,’ I said. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘It’s OK,’ she said and smiled. ‘This is fine.’
‘I can make coffee,’ I said. I stepped forward and reached out my hand.
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s OK. Really. This is fine.’
She put her cup on the floor and started biting her fingers.
‘Listen,’ I said. I took a longer sip and looked out where the holiday apartments were. I stroked her thigh and she opened her legs a little.
There was a soft golden light from inside her pencil tin.
‘I don’t think Valerie’s coming back this weekend,’ I said.
Valerie was my flatmate.
‘I think she’s gone away,’ I said. ‘Gone camping. She was talking about it,’ I said. ‘I don’t think she’ll be back,’ I said.
I drank the last of my tea but it was already cold.
‘No excuses now,’ I said. She let me go and went and danced, hands above her head like she’d landed from a somersault.
The wooden floor was polished where the coffee table had been.
I patted my hair and waited for her to fall back down.
She danced in circles, stopping to look at herself in the mirror.
‘I’m pretty sure,’ I said as I walked around to Valerie’s bedroom behind the sofa. I pushed open her door.
There was a broken glass on the table.
‘Maybe she’ll come back tonight,’ I said.
I decided I would go and get my haircut. I’d been in the study on the internet for more than an hour. I stood behind the sofa as she wrote a long paragraph in pencil and then rubbed it out.
‘I didn’t mean it about the volume,’ she said brushing the rubbings away.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘I shut the door. I remember what studying was like.’
I went to my room. Got my coat and keys.
I stood there looking.
‘What about Valerie?’ she called.
‘She won’t be back,’ I said. ‘I don’t think she’ll be back.’
When I walked into the living room she was stood out on the balcony, leaning over the balustrade. A breeze lifted the tips of her hair and the straps of her vest. She scanned the street below. The sky was mixed. I saw myself in the closed half of the window.
I was in Barcelona working as a teacher. I’d been searching for a place and Nuria needed someone. We ended up having a coffee and spending the weekend at mine.
She was carrying an old kitchen striplight when she answered the door. We bought a new one and I fitted it for her. I didn’t need a chair. I held it there as she pressed the switch. Every time I let go it flickered out.
‘You can study in my room if you want,’ I said from inside. ‘If she comes back.’
‘We can go for a Guinness later,’ I said louder. ‘When you’ve finished.’
I rubbed my face in the squared glass of the elevator door and waited for
the lift.
‘Hey,’ she said, opening the front door. ‘Thanks,’ she said. Her eyes were wet. She reached out her hand and messed my hair. ‘Don’t make it too short,’ she said and blew me a kiss.
I tried to explain to Elena the hairdresser what it was I wanted but it was impossible so I pointed to a picture of a man in black and white.
In the chair I thought of all the things I couldn’t say.
I was in another country.
She showed me how it looked from the back and I nodded.
Walking home the road was closed. There was smoke and ambulance lights. People were screaming. I noticed a little girl stood at the front on her own by the police tape. She jumped up and down as drummers passed and then young men and women dressed as devils swinging white fire around their heads. A green paper mache lizard or dragon bowed and span and sprayed flames from its mouth and feet.
Once the two policemen had cleared the tape I crossed the road.
I’d walked another two blocks into the dark when I noticed the girl beneath my right arm.
I looked back but there was noone around.
I slowed and she nearly stopped up ahead.
She had a denim miniskirt on with black leggings, black boots and a white tshirt with the feint outline of a pink glittery heart that had got all dirty.
I smiled and she smiled, dancing on tiptoes and pointing her little fingers in the air, making small circles. At the block before mine she found her house and pressed the buzzer.
She was dancing right up until she went inside.
The lights were all out when I got back.
I went to the bathroom. I washed my hands. The water was hot.
I turned on the television. After a year I still didn’t understand anything.
Nuria came in from my bedroom.
‘You’re a fucking bastard,’ she said. She was wearing my black t-shirt. When she walked to my room I could see her bottom.
I sat for a while and then patted my knees. There were men and women playing cards in the apartment opposite. I picked her pencil tin off the floor and closed the lid.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said standing at the end of the bed.
The shutters were down and the bulb in the lamp was running out. There was a shadow on the wall like a wine stain.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said all slow. She sat up. ‘Where have you fucking been?’ she said.
‘What?’ I said. ‘You know where I’ve been.’ I put my hands in my coat pockets and took them out.
She gripped her arms around her knees like she was afraid to let go. She was biting her top lip. There was the start of a noise.
‘Just calm down,’ I said. ‘It’s OK.’
I felt the bed and then sat down. I felt for her leg. ‘I was getting my haircut,’ I said. I bowed forward.
I wanted to check the time on my phone.
‘Don’t lie,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t fucking lie!’ She screamed and kicked on the bed. She gripped fistfuls of hair like she was pulling herself in two. She thumped her head. Screaming and shouting and crying, shaking her head and hitting herself harder.
I stood, then leaned forward.
‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Nuria,’ I said. ‘Stop. Stop. Come on,’ I said.
The duvet kicked up. My face and chest burnt.
‘Fucking you!’ she screamed. She gripped at my t-shirt. Pulled me down. There was the sound of something ripping. I found her wrists and squeezed them. Pushed her arms over her head. I fell on my knees, sank one into her bare thigh. She bit my hands and arm. I pushed her away and she punched at my chest. She fell back and kicked me away with both her feet. She punched again and I got hold of her wrist. She was kicking the walls and the headboard like she was running somewhere.
I kept my arms from her face. Forced her around. Got her on all fours.
‘You fucking bastard!’ she said, the words turning from a shout to a long scream. ‘You’re a fucking bastard!’
I pressed my knees hard into her calves, pushed my head in her hair.
‘Enough,’ I said. ‘Enough, please.’ She softened a little but still made a noise. I put my weight in my chest. Her head fell on the pillow. Our arms were straight by our sides. I crossed them around her, gripped both her wrists in one of my hands, held the back of her head.
She backed into me and I kept her tight. She did it again. I lifted my legs beneath hers. She was swallowing big breaths, moaning and crying and coughing and then she lay calm.
I let her head rise off the pillow. We were curled side by side in some kind of a hug. I could feel my heart against her back. The sweat on her cheek rubbed on mine. I closed my eyes and waited for someone to knock on the door.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘It’s OK now.’ I gave her a kiss. There were so many things that
nobody knew.
I reached over her head and turned off the lamp.
‘When will this end?’ she said turning her face.
I stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. I rubbed her nose.
‘What’s going to happen to me?’ she said.
I hugged my arm tight under her breast.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘I need your help.’
Her arm started shaking. The bed was shaking. I lay there fully-dressed, reached my free hand for the wall.
if you want to read others you can go
here
here
here
She was standing there with everything spinning around her. The coffee table was pushed to the wall by the television.
‘I don’t have all my things,’ she said.
I set the cups on the table.
‘What is it?’ I said. ‘What don’t you have?’
‘I can’t concentrate here,’ she said gazing out to the hall and the front door. ‘I feel strange,’ she said.
She was biting at the skin around her nails. Her thumb was bent in her mouth.
I’d left some water in the pan.
‘What don’t you have?’ I said. ‘What is it you don’t have?’
She was shaking her head. Her mouth was moving.
‘Hey,’ I said, ‘you’ve got those.’ I pointed to the papers on the sofa. I picked up the ones that were on the floor.
I gave her a hug to slow her down.
We stood there a while.
I rested my head on hers.
She kissed my chest and kept ahold.
I lowered my right arm to stop hugging myself and squeezed tighter.
‘Don’t you have coffee?’ she shouted from the living room.
She was holding her cup in both hands, knees tucked under her chin in the corner of the sofa.
‘I asked you if you wanted coffee,’ I said walking back from the kitchen.
She turned to the balcony. She still had some of the crimson paint on her nails. She’d been working with the council helping kids. She’d painted all round the edges. Most of the paint had chipped and disappeared. She’d never painted that thumb.
She shook something out of her head.
‘I can make coffee,’ I said. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘It’s OK,’ she said and smiled. ‘This is fine.’
‘I can make coffee,’ I said. I stepped forward and reached out my hand.
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s OK. Really. This is fine.’
She put her cup on the floor and started biting her fingers.
‘Listen,’ I said. I took a longer sip and looked out where the holiday apartments were. I stroked her thigh and she opened her legs a little.
There was a soft golden light from inside her pencil tin.
‘I don’t think Valerie’s coming back this weekend,’ I said.
Valerie was my flatmate.
‘I think she’s gone away,’ I said. ‘Gone camping. She was talking about it,’ I said. ‘I don’t think she’ll be back,’ I said.
I drank the last of my tea but it was already cold.
‘No excuses now,’ I said. She let me go and went and danced, hands above her head like she’d landed from a somersault.
The wooden floor was polished where the coffee table had been.
I patted my hair and waited for her to fall back down.
She danced in circles, stopping to look at herself in the mirror.
‘I’m pretty sure,’ I said as I walked around to Valerie’s bedroom behind the sofa. I pushed open her door.
There was a broken glass on the table.
‘Maybe she’ll come back tonight,’ I said.
I decided I would go and get my haircut. I’d been in the study on the internet for more than an hour. I stood behind the sofa as she wrote a long paragraph in pencil and then rubbed it out.
‘I didn’t mean it about the volume,’ she said brushing the rubbings away.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘I shut the door. I remember what studying was like.’
I went to my room. Got my coat and keys.
I stood there looking.
‘What about Valerie?’ she called.
‘She won’t be back,’ I said. ‘I don’t think she’ll be back.’
When I walked into the living room she was stood out on the balcony, leaning over the balustrade. A breeze lifted the tips of her hair and the straps of her vest. She scanned the street below. The sky was mixed. I saw myself in the closed half of the window.
I was in Barcelona working as a teacher. I’d been searching for a place and Nuria needed someone. We ended up having a coffee and spending the weekend at mine.
She was carrying an old kitchen striplight when she answered the door. We bought a new one and I fitted it for her. I didn’t need a chair. I held it there as she pressed the switch. Every time I let go it flickered out.
‘You can study in my room if you want,’ I said from inside. ‘If she comes back.’
‘We can go for a Guinness later,’ I said louder. ‘When you’ve finished.’
I rubbed my face in the squared glass of the elevator door and waited for
the lift.
‘Hey,’ she said, opening the front door. ‘Thanks,’ she said. Her eyes were wet. She reached out her hand and messed my hair. ‘Don’t make it too short,’ she said and blew me a kiss.
I tried to explain to Elena the hairdresser what it was I wanted but it was impossible so I pointed to a picture of a man in black and white.
In the chair I thought of all the things I couldn’t say.
I was in another country.
She showed me how it looked from the back and I nodded.
Walking home the road was closed. There was smoke and ambulance lights. People were screaming. I noticed a little girl stood at the front on her own by the police tape. She jumped up and down as drummers passed and then young men and women dressed as devils swinging white fire around their heads. A green paper mache lizard or dragon bowed and span and sprayed flames from its mouth and feet.
Once the two policemen had cleared the tape I crossed the road.
I’d walked another two blocks into the dark when I noticed the girl beneath my right arm.
I looked back but there was noone around.
I slowed and she nearly stopped up ahead.
She had a denim miniskirt on with black leggings, black boots and a white tshirt with the feint outline of a pink glittery heart that had got all dirty.
I smiled and she smiled, dancing on tiptoes and pointing her little fingers in the air, making small circles. At the block before mine she found her house and pressed the buzzer.
She was dancing right up until she went inside.
The lights were all out when I got back.
I went to the bathroom. I washed my hands. The water was hot.
I turned on the television. After a year I still didn’t understand anything.
Nuria came in from my bedroom.
‘You’re a fucking bastard,’ she said. She was wearing my black t-shirt. When she walked to my room I could see her bottom.
I sat for a while and then patted my knees. There were men and women playing cards in the apartment opposite. I picked her pencil tin off the floor and closed the lid.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said standing at the end of the bed.
The shutters were down and the bulb in the lamp was running out. There was a shadow on the wall like a wine stain.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said all slow. She sat up. ‘Where have you fucking been?’ she said.
‘What?’ I said. ‘You know where I’ve been.’ I put my hands in my coat pockets and took them out.
She gripped her arms around her knees like she was afraid to let go. She was biting her top lip. There was the start of a noise.
‘Just calm down,’ I said. ‘It’s OK.’
I felt the bed and then sat down. I felt for her leg. ‘I was getting my haircut,’ I said. I bowed forward.
I wanted to check the time on my phone.
‘Don’t lie,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t fucking lie!’ She screamed and kicked on the bed. She gripped fistfuls of hair like she was pulling herself in two. She thumped her head. Screaming and shouting and crying, shaking her head and hitting herself harder.
I stood, then leaned forward.
‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Nuria,’ I said. ‘Stop. Stop. Come on,’ I said.
The duvet kicked up. My face and chest burnt.
‘Fucking you!’ she screamed. She gripped at my t-shirt. Pulled me down. There was the sound of something ripping. I found her wrists and squeezed them. Pushed her arms over her head. I fell on my knees, sank one into her bare thigh. She bit my hands and arm. I pushed her away and she punched at my chest. She fell back and kicked me away with both her feet. She punched again and I got hold of her wrist. She was kicking the walls and the headboard like she was running somewhere.
I kept my arms from her face. Forced her around. Got her on all fours.
‘You fucking bastard!’ she said, the words turning from a shout to a long scream. ‘You’re a fucking bastard!’
I pressed my knees hard into her calves, pushed my head in her hair.
‘Enough,’ I said. ‘Enough, please.’ She softened a little but still made a noise. I put my weight in my chest. Her head fell on the pillow. Our arms were straight by our sides. I crossed them around her, gripped both her wrists in one of my hands, held the back of her head.
She backed into me and I kept her tight. She did it again. I lifted my legs beneath hers. She was swallowing big breaths, moaning and crying and coughing and then she lay calm.
I let her head rise off the pillow. We were curled side by side in some kind of a hug. I could feel my heart against her back. The sweat on her cheek rubbed on mine. I closed my eyes and waited for someone to knock on the door.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘It’s OK now.’ I gave her a kiss. There were so many things that
nobody knew.
I reached over her head and turned off the lamp.
‘When will this end?’ she said turning her face.
I stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. I rubbed her nose.
‘What’s going to happen to me?’ she said.
I hugged my arm tight under her breast.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘I need your help.’
Her arm started shaking. The bed was shaking. I lay there fully-dressed, reached my free hand for the wall.
if you want to read others you can go
here
here
here
MARKETS ARE UNSTABLE LESS BECAUSE THEY ARE DRIVEN BY EMOTION THAN BECAUSE THE FUTURE IS UNKNOWABLE
this really is worth reading
i tell you these things because i care about you
......
i was introduced to a lot of new people a couple of days ago
it's amazing how the people at the top always tell you what they do
often before they offer their name
......
now noone is talking to me
i tell you these things because i care about you
......
i was introduced to a lot of new people a couple of days ago
it's amazing how the people at the top always tell you what they do
often before they offer their name
......
now noone is talking to me
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
ABSTAIN
some things to think about
not one person can say the past thirty years have succeeded
if they do the chances are they're a twat
so the past thirty years have been a failure
a failed project
which means several things
one
you cannot keep the current party in power
two
you cannot elect the Conservative opposition
three
there is no democracy
four
you have a real choice to destroy the party who began the project
if the Conservatives are not elected next year they must die
that must be the end
five
what does that lead to?
six
all Governments lie and continue to lie to maintain power
people never accept this
it is the hardest thing for people to accept
seven
people do not want change
they do not necessarily want a period of uncertainty
people are very uncomfortable with the idea of uncertainty
eight
if an opposition is to be elected it will often look very much like the ruling party
it will say many similar things
nine
perhaps people will vote for an opposition to prove they have one
to prove there is democracy
ergo there is no democracy
ten
change results from boredom nothing more
eleven
people want to be controlled
they want to be looked after
they need to be secure
in the developed world people are no longer prepared to fight
they are no longer prepared to die
in general they are happy
the only danger to this is boredom
and relativism
twelve
in the developed world people are far more easily controlled and manipulated
than possibly at any point in their history
this is done through democracy
where people have no choice to stop it happening
thirteen
conspiracy theories work for governments
governments like conspiracy theories
they keep people talking
fourteen
the rich are always more important than the poor
fifteen
people no longer really believe in anything
except themselves
and the need not to die
not one person can say the past thirty years have succeeded
if they do the chances are they're a twat
so the past thirty years have been a failure
a failed project
which means several things
one
you cannot keep the current party in power
two
you cannot elect the Conservative opposition
three
there is no democracy
four
you have a real choice to destroy the party who began the project
if the Conservatives are not elected next year they must die
that must be the end
five
what does that lead to?
six
all Governments lie and continue to lie to maintain power
people never accept this
it is the hardest thing for people to accept
seven
people do not want change
they do not necessarily want a period of uncertainty
people are very uncomfortable with the idea of uncertainty
eight
if an opposition is to be elected it will often look very much like the ruling party
it will say many similar things
nine
perhaps people will vote for an opposition to prove they have one
to prove there is democracy
ergo there is no democracy
ten
change results from boredom nothing more
eleven
people want to be controlled
they want to be looked after
they need to be secure
in the developed world people are no longer prepared to fight
they are no longer prepared to die
in general they are happy
the only danger to this is boredom
and relativism
twelve
in the developed world people are far more easily controlled and manipulated
than possibly at any point in their history
this is done through democracy
where people have no choice to stop it happening
thirteen
conspiracy theories work for governments
governments like conspiracy theories
they keep people talking
fourteen
the rich are always more important than the poor
fifteen
people no longer really believe in anything
except themselves
and the need not to die
Monday, December 7, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
I'M THINKING OF BECOMING A PRIEST
i'm memorising Shakespeare sonnets
so far i have two
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
and
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
i want to know how many I can memorise
this is one of the things with Shakespeare
he is nearly instantly memorisable
it is an astonishing thing
if you want to hear my recitation please call me
......
i'm going to put a poem i read recently here
i'm not sure it's the right thing to do
if the poet will feel aggrieved
i can only do what i would expect of others
since that is how i exist in humanity
and humanity exists in me
this is Sartrean
and Kantian
and Biblical
i'm going to write a lot on Sartre soon
so i know where it all is when i forget it in the future
here's a poem
followed by an image
followed by a programme you really should sit down and watch
and try to find the whole series
it really is a quite wonderful programme
......
Skull by David Head
after Saint Francis in Meditation by Zurbarán
Open your mouth, now imagine
you have no jaw, no tongue, no lips,
no palate, so speak; but I forgot,
you have no neck, no airways,
no lungs or diaphragm to push the breath,
so speak; but I forgot, no skin,
just a still skull, a small dome;
let me hear your dry bone voice
Now dress to remind yourself
of your shabbiness, with patches,
and holes, and knots for promises.
Clench someone else's empty head
to the rough wool over your heart.
Feel its two remaining teeth press
your breast, not fangs of remorse,
just the slow snake of death
uncoiling its skeleton into your ribs
Or hood your mind with darkness
so the light catches where you breathe
and where you catch your breath.
Close the inside of your eyes
until blackness comes
like the shadow inside a skull seen
through its eye sockets, then look.
I forgot. There is light.
The holes in your hands are your mouth,
your breath, your eyes on the world.
......
......
so far i have two
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
and
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
i want to know how many I can memorise
this is one of the things with Shakespeare
he is nearly instantly memorisable
it is an astonishing thing
if you want to hear my recitation please call me
......
i'm going to put a poem i read recently here
i'm not sure it's the right thing to do
if the poet will feel aggrieved
i can only do what i would expect of others
since that is how i exist in humanity
and humanity exists in me
this is Sartrean
and Kantian
and Biblical
i'm going to write a lot on Sartre soon
so i know where it all is when i forget it in the future
here's a poem
followed by an image
followed by a programme you really should sit down and watch
and try to find the whole series
it really is a quite wonderful programme
......
Skull by David Head
after Saint Francis in Meditation by Zurbarán
Open your mouth, now imagine
you have no jaw, no tongue, no lips,
no palate, so speak; but I forgot,
you have no neck, no airways,
no lungs or diaphragm to push the breath,
so speak; but I forgot, no skin,
just a still skull, a small dome;
let me hear your dry bone voice
Now dress to remind yourself
of your shabbiness, with patches,
and holes, and knots for promises.
Clench someone else's empty head
to the rough wool over your heart.
Feel its two remaining teeth press
your breast, not fangs of remorse,
just the slow snake of death
uncoiling its skeleton into your ribs
Or hood your mind with darkness
so the light catches where you breathe
and where you catch your breath.
Close the inside of your eyes
until blackness comes
like the shadow inside a skull seen
through its eye sockets, then look.
I forgot. There is light.
The holes in your hands are your mouth,
your breath, your eyes on the world.
......
......
Friday, December 4, 2009
OUR CHRISTMAS STORY - DAY FOUR
Zog threw an acorn at his book in the oak tree. The bird twittered at Zog.
'Not at me, not at me!'
Zog caught his book and started reading. It was about a boy called Zog. Zog yawned. It was a boring story.
'Not at me, not at me!'
Zog caught his book and started reading. It was about a boy called Zog. Zog yawned. It was a boring story.
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