Reverse King Midas turns everything he touches to shit.
The backwards alchemist transforms gold into base metals.
Bastard elves crap in shoemakers’ carefully crafted work.
How to believe in goodness
In a world that rewards avarice
And punishes the poor?
How to find faith in progress
When all evolution has done for me
Is supply me with the dexterity to kick myself
In the testicles
Over and over and over?
The world begins and ends this very moment.
The past erects a scaffold,
The present walks me up the stairs,
Puts a stinking bag over my head,
Pulls a lever.
At last the future dies.
At last I care no longer,
Hold no hopeless hopes close to my heartless heart.
I feel like hundreds of giraffes have been running around inside my skull, smashing their heads against my brains and shitting all over the place. It must be Saturday.
What a brilliant surprise. I arrived at my favourite coffee house having forced myself to get up and out, to experience some sunshine and celebrate the murder of a magician by some ancient Romans. Is it possible to do things under duress when you’re the one who has decided you ought to be doing them? If it is then I duressed. A lot.
I arrived at said coffee house and saw a familiar figure standing ahead of me. My dear friend Tony who had a triple heart bypass a month or so ago and has had all manner of complications and been back in hospital much of the time since, was standing there waiting to be served! A very welcome sight indeed, especially as I knew he was having a procedure to drain fluid from the lungs – one of the complications – only yesterday.
Even better news, after we’d had a sit in our usual place and caught up a bit with the various and varying struggles we’ve both been experiencing lately he had to go off to the hospital again. Not for further treatments but to pick up his lovely wife Dawn who has been pretty unwell herself and in the Royal Devon and Exeter for some time too. Hopefully over the weekend we will all be physically and mentally well enough to gather together for caffeines again, along with Darcy the Wonder Dog who must have been very confused by what’s been going on in recent weeks (she has, I believe, been looked at by a friend who owns Darcy’s cousin so at least the port little woofer has had family to whine to).
Another friend came in while Tony was with me so it has been a sociable spell. I am now exhausted but so very pleased things are improving a little for two very dear people. And with my psyche assessment looming and the meds at least stopping me from wanting to plummet from tall buildings things are a wee bit better for me too. Long may such small but significant progress continue.
Now Is Henry Winkler of our discombobulation.
These are words. They are springing from my fingers as I tap at a keyboard. Miraculously they then appear on my computer screen. Eventually I and all the other infinite amount of monkeys will recreate something already written. Perhaps we should write more original material instead?