One morning, a blue sky, just one morning. And that is enough, away from the machine, for an hour or so, going off, sailing in fresh air. Out, and off, off, off! I'm not thinking of my troubles or the world's troubles. A child with a mouthful of dust - red / orange / yellow - crackling, I'm living those holi/days in Selsey. Young again, hopeful again. This is the real life. And looking around! The kite has gone. It's somewhere on the moon, I suppose. Oh, never mind. I can only try to recapture everything. Maybe I shouldn't. At least I have this feeling, this mood. The world may burn next week - and burn me with it. Right now, I couldn't care less. If someone offered me a million pounds to care, just a little bit, I would laugh at them, and feel sorry for them. This, is, a, lot like ... the metamorphosis, later on - I was much older - when my ribcage was white clouds against the blue skin of the sky. I remember that, too. Can live it now, too. Nothing changes. I try to touch eternity with my visions. Will my words last, beyond death? I am stretching myself. My fingernails are reaching for God's face. I will scratch Him, so He never forgets who I am, who I was.
This morning's blue sky is the sky blue I want to hold on to. It reminds me of the earlier sky, that kite; and the dust, with a can of Top Deck. And the dog, and the grass, after the summer-heated car seats, and the window, with the cool air coming in. [Strange bikes.] Then, the nights, those fruit machines, and Hi Ho Silver Lining, and The Hokey Cokey. And the people, and the joy, the sheer joy. And that Womble. I remember the Womble. I still have the photograph, in fact. And the days. And the windmill! How in the name of Christ did I forget the windmill? Oh, I didn't forget it. It's always in my head. It's there when I want it. And I can go back, any time I want, to see it again, in its actual reality.
Or was it the afternoon? It is the afternoon - now, yes, back on the machine, after a break. That's when the kite got away with its miles of string. Perhaps. It was all such a long time ago. Or did I reel in it? I don't know. I'm as confused about the past as I am about the present. Well, I'm writing it down, typing it up, whatever. Basically, I'm chasing a magical happening in my life, regardless of whether or not it actually happened. That shows commitment? No, my words will chase anything. They're wild animals. They're killers! I think I better quit while I'm ahead. This post ends here ... there -
Tonight, I'll go looking for the moon.
This morning's blue sky is the sky blue I want to hold on to. It reminds me of the earlier sky, that kite; and the dust, with a can of Top Deck. And the dog, and the grass, after the summer-heated car seats, and the window, with the cool air coming in. [Strange bikes.] Then, the nights, those fruit machines, and Hi Ho Silver Lining, and The Hokey Cokey. And the people, and the joy, the sheer joy. And that Womble. I remember the Womble. I still have the photograph, in fact. And the days. And the windmill! How in the name of Christ did I forget the windmill? Oh, I didn't forget it. It's always in my head. It's there when I want it. And I can go back, any time I want, to see it again, in its actual reality.
Or was it the afternoon? It is the afternoon - now, yes, back on the machine, after a break. That's when the kite got away with its miles of string. Perhaps. It was all such a long time ago. Or did I reel in it? I don't know. I'm as confused about the past as I am about the present. Well, I'm writing it down, typing it up, whatever. Basically, I'm chasing a magical happening in my life, regardless of whether or not it actually happened. That shows commitment? No, my words will chase anything. They're wild animals. They're killers! I think I better quit while I'm ahead. This post ends here ... there -
Tonight, I'll go looking for the moon.
