anything/everything
stayed in a squat in Deptford, smelt like the past, or maybe I mean one of those museums that recreate the smell of the past - doesn't matter when or where, always the same scent of stale piss, alcohol and rickets.
José scrubs the deck on his hands & knees, barefoot & stripped to the waist - I know where this is going.
Early said he was taking care of me, taking care of me mainly involved pimping me to his dealer. He did take me to casualty one time when I broke my ankle.
"I fell from the rigging, I'll try to be more careful"
tuck & roll
I met S through working - I think we became friends because we looked kind of similar. We'd work together occasionally on account of this obvious resemblance:
"Is that your brother honey?"
but he was radiant somehow and bright, smiled like it was all just some movie with a glamorous ending - like a fucking star. we went to a lot of museums, he liked neanderthals a lot although they made him melancholy. i would sleep on the nightbus with my head in his lap and he would be absolutely still so as not to wake me even if he knew I was just pretending to be asleep.
no-one said anything about this at the funeral.
Oh, this is great. Will be following the blog reverently.
ReplyDeletethank you - i think? reverently? heh - i read some of yr writing too & i liked it plenty
ReplyDeleteJust printed your stuff, so yes, perhaps reverently is too big of a word, but I'll definitely be watching. Fresh writing.
ReplyDeleteThanks, how nice of u to say.
These last lines are a bit too meaningful. I can see why you stopped using them. The squat was too generic. I mean, I know that was part of the point, but in spite of the description of the smells I couldn't really go there. Somehow one individual element, say, the shape of the neg space in a broken window, or some stains on a wall, or a voice heard from some room, unseen, to contrast the generic smells might have summoned me there completely.
ReplyDeleteI always clung to the side of the car, and then look for a smooth embankment where I'd drop down into a crouch, and push myself to roll off over one shoulder and down. Worked fine mostly. Thowing yourself down and land with the entire body seems kinda painful...
And, okay, the bus scene, maybe that's just me, but it is bloody romantic. Again, though, you spook me. Is life really limited to such few patterns?