In the evening I had a dream in which i died while looking for my car.
Somebody whacked me on the head with a rock I think.
Every channel I tune into either shows a movie I’ve seen before or an episode from a local series so inane that pondering whether it’s a repeat is completely meaningless
My dinner came out of a glossy plastic bag with full-colour prints on it.
The soft drink I had afterwards did not help me forget any of it.
As good a rendering of Hell as any I can think of.
I shouldn’t be here.
In a universe close to this one I left, walking quickly up the road looking at the pavement slabs sliding under my foot.
In this one I stayed because I liked the next song that came along
Now that it has finished I can leave, walking quickly up the road looking at the pavement slabs sliding under my foot.
Τούτη η έρημος χρειάζεται τις οάσεις τις
Το πρόβλημα εν ότι ενεν ούλλες αληθινές
Θυμάμαι το τόπο που άκουσα πρώτη φορά το τραγούδι τούτο
Ενα καφέ που ενόμιζα ότι ήταν να γίνει ένα που τα σημεία αναφοράς μου
Ωσπου επρόσεξα ότι κάθε Σάββατο που επήεννα ο κόσμος που έβλεπα ήταν ολοένα τζιαι πιο αποκρουστικός
Που τες κυρίες που εμιλούσαν για μισή ώρα για τον τάδε επιχειρηματία που άνοιξε το τάδε μαγαζι
Που το κάφρο που εξαπόλυσε το τανκ του μές τη μέση του δρόμου κλείοντας τον τζιαι όταν του είπε κάποιος να το ταράξει γιατί εκαρτερούσε κόσμος να περάσει απλά έμεινε ατάραχος ώσπου να πιάσει το καφέ του.
Που ούλλους τους άλλους στο ενδιάμεσο που εμιλούσαν για ώρες χωρίς να λαλούν τίποτε.
Κρίμα. Ηταν καλός τζιαι ο καφές του.
I wish i could turn my blog into a city
And drag any visitor into it through the gaps in the words
It would be a deserted city full of ruins
Some would be majestic
Some would be little more than mounds of rocks
On most days
The city would be quiet and still
But come the right wind
One may be fortunate enough
To catch a glimpse of what it once was
Etched in the troughs
Of swirling dust
My failures often barge in, like annoying clips on TV
They are the little failures,
ungraceful embarrassments in casual conversation
And the big failures
their magnitude matching that of world wars
To make them go away I imagine all those involved
As heaps of bones
Rapidly turning into dust.
Maybe someone flipped a switch
And the option
Was set to “off”
There are no gentle souls around here
That’s for sure
Desires are shape-shifters,
Last night they slithered past me
Like raindrops on a speeding car
Today they buzzed round me
Eager to feed.
First summer wine
Fragrant like the air around me
I tried to remember what I was doing around this time last year, the year before last year and the year before that
I came up blank
But it does make sense.
My shoes feel so alien to me sometimes.
When I take them off they look like two pieces of rock.
I just sit there looking at them in disbelief, not being able to accept the fact that they were part of me for so many hours
It so happened that this was my first CD
I was convinced that people who could write and sing something as soul-achingly beautiful as this would be rewarded with at least a chance to live a long life
It’s when news like this break out that make me feel like another small piece of me has turned to dust.