(it says my end 'video unavailable'.. may need fixin)
This week, today, now
was to be the new era all the way.
(and spending MONEY on my digital kingdom of nowt
thats a first! her smile, but in fact one word, "change", leaves me no doubt
i must. there's no other way )
But it seems there may be a gremlin.
Will be fixed, by fifth coffee time
that's mid morning; then no "hydration"
bothers my always constant sublime steady purpose
time, merely for habits, decade long
work just fine.
Whilst every other walker frets:
water bottle, special bag...
Now i know.... the real, atomisation, drag
Is in fact almost the opposite of being purposefully alone
It's back 50 years, all those endless 'friends'
on her - the prototype's, phone.
It is definitely time now to get out of a rather fun rhythmic cage.
Because all words, became clearly quite irrelevant.
Ten years of gibbers.
(a much nicer word than fibbers).
But it really is the dangerous form of 'people pleasing'
(as seen with Ms Nepal) really does lead to the loneliest older age.
Never mind totally destroy "community"
environmental / egalitarian / healthy child psych, 'activism'
And only writing was left.
I'm no cynic, Voltaire, even
Letezia with her fully 'feeling' art
can conceivably create some so needed "change"
(but Mong's bloke seemingly 'traumatised' by his Italy
I hope his tackle still is working!
as all that matters is she starts breeding!
as three years naggin' her i hope SHE's 'listened'!
"yasmin! tick toc body clock"
in YUK of course you would be arrested for 'offendin' the plastic applicator
pasted on on performative 'fragility')
So ... how do we now enter the cannon. Of ... (but does anyone read bittersweet - can anyone see the true sublime arty farty beauty in the mass murderer's face? that makes us ask at least some pertinent questions... such great photo ..'realism' 'journalism'? did influence me.. me as a nipper upon Chambree Hardmans knee... not really, just the greart uncynical art of late 70s
and 80s... but i am only interested in tomorrow. )
So on a beach - not 'on' a beach... just sat taking in the fairly quiet ok scene
One word "change"
Creates the rest of my life.
I thought everyone i mean everyone just too cynical or difficult to say what needs to be said...and i know she meant it
And my radar is tuned as if every atom of space ['cadet'] dust is a potentially lethal prang
from decades of..
so many of those too 'ill' and atomised,
even if " i have so many wonderful...friends.."
i think far more the problem than ...
Anyway "change" i saw in her brightest eyes
wasn't from drugs, vomit buckets of ayahhoooasker, or even worse
Instagram pages of nothing that EVER works...
Maybe she would understand,
ten years i have had the far longer versions of that too short conversation
In fact necessary "change" is in the amount of times
" as Neruda said a conversation doesn't start until we have been speaking for at least an hour"
uttering that quote as i have so many times, i can see the terror in my co communicatrix' eyes..
At the thought just the thought they may have to .. settle down to just one purpose with one ally
over time...
"change"... plus actually REAL bright eyes.
Equals.... it just may be worthwhile, plodding on
But there must be some change even if especially the last three months ... having found the region i stumbled upon the only one who ... i mean, supermodels don't chat me up!
especially as i certainly don't trust one word out of the corner of their smiley mouths
but i do trust the human touch, hand in hand
even if only for five seconds
'T'will forever be the beach of the smile...
Except i know that one word was also worthwhile ..hers "change"
I have so often heard, rote, automaton.
..the compulsory script... of the "i'm on that side of the debate"
entirely conformist one people nation
(merely bourgeois for gods sake De Bovary
perfect blueprint and ALLEGORY
for all of them
especially nowadays the expensive cowboy hatted men
pictures soon i photojournalise in places just as dangerous
as Letizia's Coas Nostra'd , dyin' body strewn places
i do wish i had an assistant...
((to divert their eyes .. as it would be worth capturing theirs... but impossible as one solo soul... they dont like their souls being taken for posterity...or rather REAl art...about TODAY)
THE END
perfectly timed to coincide with a week of rain
As i knew would be the case
Only compute, indoors, when its no fun outdoors
And what a fun few months of vaggabondin..
In, i hate to admit, almost paradise...
If i were to be stuck in this pestilent shopping aisle..now at last i know where i wish to be stuck
As the saudade lanes, even bank hol yesteraft...were perfect, flowerfilled, and even better, as quiet as if fourty years ago past...
