And then the prospect of moving - silence and clever conversation, witty repartees, the desire to be better within oneself. More at peace dare I say it. It could happen.
Friday, 7 November 2008
Peaceful in the throes of a cold afternoon. Bladderfull, piss like Lucozade the last few days, ants in the bladder marching. Heavy chest, an abrupt call to the tax office - life's minutae. The creases in the Malay's trouser legs, he walked like robocop, he smiled at me. I wondered what it would be like to try and talk to the people in the restaurant - wondering if they'd ever smoked like I have, felt the heavy green curtain come across their perception of things. It's not something you want with you forever. It has it's place but that's that and Amen to't. Lost too much time in speculation that has lead, like the ants in my bladder to an insignificant conclusion and the pressing touch of mortality. At least you can be sure it's your lungs filling with tar and liquid; destructive. I am too prone to demolish things in my haste. Sure I killed some airspace last night waving my hands to some swinging soul. Oversized silver coins in my pocket and wine like petrol.