words

i rack

2007-06-15T23:29:33+02:00

I’ve paid heed to this stupid war since it started. I’ve even, most of the time, had an active interest in it. But my emotions to date have really only been anger, disappointment, and disgust at our governments’ involvement – and if I'm honest, disbelief and mistrust of the reasons and motives why anyone would want to join a uniformed hate-troop like the army or the police. But today I saw on the news something which grabbed hold of my heart and squeezed it really fucking hard. Two parents, a mum and dad naturally, talking about their son who died in Iraq recently. The looks on their faces, the emotions in their eyes - you could see straight through to their souls. It was hard and harrowing but at the same time totally beautiful. And made me at once feel distraught yet gave me a bit more faith in mankind. They were both calm. Both reasonable. Just talking about how much they had, did, love him – with smiles on their faces. It humbled and crumbled me like nothing in the last 2 years of the war has done. Maybe it made me think of my relationship with my own parents I don’t know, such is the subconscious, but it was without a doubt the most human thing id seen on the news relating to the war. Every negative idea I adhere to about people who join the army in this day and age briefly subsided. This war is destroying lives and yet these people - looking off into the middle distance and smiling, seeing him there I suspect in their minds eye - these people didn’t hate. At all. It touched me. Because too much of this is about governments and military and propaganda and marches and petitions. And we the people forget about the reality. Or maybe I have done. But I shall try to not do in future. Because whether I agree with it or not, I can’t forget the look in that couples eyes. To be honest it wasn’t even the look. Just the air they had about them: loving, calm, accepting - but sad, very, very heartbreakingly sad.

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iii - a man enters.....well?

2007-05-25T11:55:31+02:00

Roses smelt like butter and dandelions wet the bed. Who cared? It seemed there wasn't much to ask of anything. If ever there would be he wasn't yet sure. The chair seemed strangely uneven as he entered the room but so did the walls and doorframe. In an uneven world it's the real things that seem the strangest. He looked around but like always places, things, people they never seemed apparent to him. It was like he was experiencing them as though through a memory of a forgotten film. Confusion had led him here and now it kept him rooted, uncertainty was his master. He sat down. The chair stayed resolute. He'd been here, sat here a million and three times, but it never felt home. He wasn't comfortable. But where could comfort ever come from? The fox will take the rabbit into his hearth for a little while. He played out the familiar rigmarole of actions that happened every Thursday. Here. In this chair. It wasn't like Thursday was a particular cipher in his life. It just always had been a Thursday so there was no reason why he should change that now. He took off his jacket and caught sight of himself in the mirror glass on the far left of the room. He'd acquired the mirror glass long ago from a time he'd rather not think about and true to this the things he saw in it weren't things he wanted to see. Every time the world turns we see a little more of ourselves. So would we stop the world if we could? Possibly he thought. In a second. The room seemed far too quiet. He used to think that a quiet was a friendly calming hand on his soul, but more frequently now it seemed that it was menacing threat to his sanity. He turned on the radio to ease the tension of silence in the room. He was out of range of anything, even in this day and age. He perservered for a few minutes and then left the static snow to dance around. That would do. He found the white noise soothing...for now...

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ii - hello mastodon, i love you

2007-05-25T11:53:41+02:00

The bus seemed busier than usual, a few faces that seemed new. Not new because I hadn't seen them before, although I didn't think I had, but because they seemed more awake, less broken, more wide-eyed to the world. Maybe they'd learn. They would. Everyone these days seemed to have too much baggage, were too weighed down in their own paranoia and ego to connect with others. we can react and get annoyed by it - but it's in us all. We are the children of our age and we act accordingly. Maybe its not nice and maybe its not pretty. But theres been too many late nights and early mornings to convince us otherwise. We continue on like we are the flounders of a new world, an exciting world. But does any of us really believe that, or have any of us even thought enough about it to know whether we believe that or not!? Is contentment our Ally? Is satisfaction our friend? Do we even care? Non, nein, perhaps. Theres a problem in the revelry perhaps. A bug. A virus. It's there in us all if we want to look, if we aren't scared to. That dull ache in out stomachs, not quite sure what it is at first - if ever. A sickness? A sadness? A longing for something better? A regret? Maybe? And maybe the more you come to terms with it it's all those things. A hole. A big, fat, 21st century, existential hole. modern malaise. That thing you thought was hunger? Its not...

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i - resemble the reassembly

2007-05-25T11:51:07+02:00

It seemed like getting up was harder than waking up. And leaving this safe haven another wrench in itself. Outside the world seemed restless. The cracks in the pavement were getting bigger, harder to avoid. But easier to see nevertheless. Thoughts flush through of wanting to run and forget it all but then not sure which way to go. When there are too many exits its hard to decide which one is best. The lesser of 2, 3, 7 evils perhaps. They were all though more appealing than the one dreamed and feared of however. Though thinking now, was it a dream or was it all just a fabrication of a long distant memory - maybe even just a memory of a book or a film, not real thoughts. Seeing the world in this early light made objects seem 2D everything seemed super real as though viewed through a lens. The collections of raindrops that now reflected the crisp, allure of the morning would soon become murky puddles of mud as too many footsteps trampled over them and the day. Still it was better than being in the empty chasm of the flat, where the dull, sometimes soothing, hum of the vent fan had mutated into a brain straining fuck of a noise that could have been used in some sort of aural torture. It needed replacing - age and time were no ones friend

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