Monday, July 17, 2006
Alright Now
I'm feeling pretty wretched now. The garbage bins have rolled
down the street and the mail's jammed up in the box.
This morning I made an effort: I screwed the lid back on the sugar
before I went out for a run. But I was wobbling by the afternoon.
At three I convinced Sandra to a game of scrabble, but I
gave up as soon as she sat down at the coffee table.
Now I have to clean up the letters she threw across the room.
It's starting to be night time. And I still haven't switched on
the lounge room light. I could probably watch the television
or read a thick book. I've got lots of books: adventure, novels,
popular science. This morning I read about DNA on the toilet.
Despite all this, I got the shopping done. I finally bought a mug
to replace the big chipped one Mum gave me when I left home.
I'll mow the grass tomorrow, and I'll stand here at the same time
smelling the cut-grass. That'll be something. Whenever I hear that,
there's always someone laughing. It's that show on the TV next door.
I wonder what it would look like? To pile up all the shoes
I've ever owned in an empty depot down by the river. I would look
for that brown pair Mum bought me in primary school.
They were non-regulation so I tried to polish them black. Each day,
the brown leather would re-emerge like the shoes' true self.
It's a dream. They've demolished those old warehouses. The whole
wharf area has been re-developed. I thought about buying one
of those new split levels. But it's like a lot of things: you know,
an investment decision. One thing's certain. I'll check the use-by date
before stocking up on smoked mussels. I'll wait a few more minutes ...
I could get Bernie to massage my calves. He could use that new oil
I bought at the church markets. Lavender. That would stop the ache
that's making me nauseous. It's all connected up, I suppose. But it
could be the other way round. I'd better get back inside
and finish the painting. When I find out the true reasons, the causes,
the pattern of the whole, I'll start a fire. Damp or not.
// posted by George Manka @ 10:47 AM 
