Monday, September 27

I Am Going

I am going to give up writing poems. There’s so much else to do! Like, Saturday, I had to go to the supermarket and get lots of food. And then, when I got home, there’s end-to-end TV comedy on UK Gold. The “Saturday Stack” they call it. This week it was all-day “Porridge”. Next week it might be “Are You Being Served?” Of course, I don’t need to watch this stuff because I’ve seen it all a hundred times already and know the scripts, so I just alternate between this and the football updates on Sky Sports 1 during the afternoon. But you can do a lot of that, if not all of it, with the sound off, because there’s tons of music to listen to. And books to read. And this last Saturday I had to clean the apartment, because. Because. And other days are the same. They begin and end, and have lots of things to do in the interval. Like, today, there was work. That happens. And then I get home, and what shall I do? I just got the new REM LP and I listened to it one and a half times last night and was kind of bored by it after the first track, which is good. But then today instead of listening to it again, or trying to, a friend at work has given me copies of the new Nick Cave double LP and an LP by The Red House Painters. That’s 3 records to listen to. Four if you count REM. And there’s football on TV tonight. Dull teams, but it’s football, nevertheless. Plus, I promised a review would be done this week, and I have all the ideas for it but don’t seem to have sat down and actually written anything yet. Plus, there’s an ongoing collaborative project with Mark Halliday, and Mark keeps sending me things I have to respond to. One just arrived on e-mail, and I have to reply quick. Like, now! Plus, and plus, don’t forget there’s some eating to be done. And it’s nearly six o’clock and tomorrow morning is steaming toward me like a train going really fast, which is a simile train. And of course there’s this blog thing to write, which I’m doing while Nick Cave is belting it out first class. I should have a “to do” list, but it would be kind of daunting, because I’d have to put a lot of things on it I haven’t even mentioned yet. My mother is 80 in two weeks time, and I should think about that. I don’t know what to think about it, but I should try. Anyway, as I was not saying, I started a poem last night but maybe won’t finish it:

I just went to have a regular bath
and the water was too wide for the tub

That’s how it starts. In fact, that’s all there is. Maybe it’s finished. I think it’s pretty damn fine, just those two lines, but admit to a certain bias. Perhaps it’s a good place to stop. After all, it’s about a bath and a tub, and water. Of course, everything stands for something else.

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