Patience Please
Wait wait wait, I didn’t mean to step there. I intended to talk about methane. Methane doesn’t smell you know, but wait wait wait, it is a greenhouse gas don’t you know, and when it gets into the atmosphere, it sets up a party above the clouds, where it likes to lick sunlight into some purple state of orgasm. Doesn’t want to leave. Stars do sort of the same thing but wait wait wait, I meant to make my grocery list, put it on the front door in case someone wanted to do it for me, and speaking of which, there’s the handsome guy in the London Fog coat down the street who is having a look at what I have pinned up here. But wait. Honestly, just wait, because what I meant to say is that I have a pining for pickles, deep fried variety, which I can get from the local barbeque joint and that’s where I am, fantasizing about what will happen if I stick my hands in the grease and it congeals as it cools, and what I bite into is concentrated fat peppered with pickles, but wait wait wait. That isn’t it at all. There is an amusement I do at the door of the zoo, where I picture animals taking a revolt against us, and there I am, consigned to the starfish tub, stuck under the water, but hold on for a moment because that isn’t right. I want a bigger house and larger eaves to clean, and taller trees to give me shade when I least need it, and leaves most eager to fall when I don’t want them. On the way home, I saw a hedgerow of poplars doing something unscientific, curling their roots about the asphalt of a new road, measuring the smell of tar and the compaction of base coat, but wait wait, there was a house on the escarpment that I wanted to buy, where a man and a woman had raised fourteen kids and I had been one of them, the twelfth, the most undistinguished number of them all, and wait wait wait, that is not really me, that is the other me, the one that buys symphony tickets but never uses them, the one that dresses better than the money I have to support the habit, the one with the creaks and moans with moments of black-out that topple me, abuse me, re-retain me, and then wait with me so that I wait and wait and wait for something that might save me. Here but by tearing out, I erupt from the pages of a book that wait wait wait, doesn’t acknowledge me, doesn’t remember me, doesn’t know that I was there at the beginning, the middle, the stuff that came after that waits waits and sees simple salvos aimed deep at trees… A blossom hurt. Money turned. Wait wait wait. Sample, see and create. Evolution of the creases in the pages that pages once were books, that books were formerly meant to be read and may again, once the hurt corrodes because acid is at it. Leave leave off the waiting and the doddering, wait wait no more or more, or simply a troll under your bridge because no path is holy, no flight is available to us not really. I fly. You fly. We go and wait wait wait, because this isn’t right, this is wrongness and sameness, and reality pays less than documents we find in the trash, those ones that we are glad to steal but in the end we put them there and they are ours and wait wait wait, I was hoping for better days, hoping for hotter years, hoping for happier endings and more clarity because you want it, I want it, we have to have it now, there is no stepping out onto some fog of sea anymore, we are doomed to writing certainty. We are doomed to writing certainty. We are doomed to writing certainty. We are doomed to writing, certainly. I wait. I wait until I fly. I fly until I wait no more.
Jesus, you sound like my mind. It never stops, this monkey mind of mine.
Geez I hope not. I wouldn’t wish that on ya.
Too late I’m afraid.
Madness appreciates company.
It’s always nice to have an empathetic witness. 😉
You’re channeling billy Mays and Molly bloom simultaneously
Interesting reference there Seb. Mostly tired brain fuelled with some scotch.
Metemspychosis? Who’s he when he’s at home?
Dunno. Seb got me thinking on that one. Molly Bloom, yeah maybe the stream of consciousness, which I think he nailed, but the Billy Mays I had to look up. TV hawker of various goods? That might fit even better.
You know, I let the Billy Mays reference pass, but 1) I should have remembered who it was, and 2) I should have looked it up. I think that’s a great and clever comparison. This was a fun snip.
Okay, so I had to look up Billy Mays, I vaguely remember him now. Wiki says he died actually. Molly Bloom I get. I don’t know Seb, I think you have this one pegged just right – I am suitably awed.
wait wait wait….you sleep deprived lewin? i’m guessing this ain’t gonna make it to the children’s bedtime story list. your brain is driving me crazy, but wait…do you drive on the left or the right?
Always sleep deprived these days, I tell you southern sister. And as if it’s my mind driving your crazy, I mean like really. Really really really.
Like ok…maybe not YOUR mind specifically…but the monkey’s got something to do with it! I just know it. Take a nap
I wish. But the little monsters are up and about, and we have some sunshine to enjoy – pumpkin patch time!
Awesome! Love the Fall. Go Daddy
wait wait wait… only in T Lewin’s fiction does methane not smell! :-)… Do you realize life (not fiction) is a waiting game?
Nah it’s true, methane is odourless. You can look it up. I like the line about life and fiction. I dunno. Is it a waiting game or a game made for waiting?
My mistake about Methane! 🙂 About life… I know… It IS a game, you can choose name you give it 🙂
God it’s like being on an out of control careening train, so musical and fast and pounding to read dude. I’m exhausted now haha brilliant craftsmanship!
Check out Knut Hamsun below. Your personality in your writing always brings him to mind. (I don’t mean to take up too much space here dude, but it’s important haha):
I sat looking at her with rapt attention. My heart was thumping, the blood coursing warmly through my veins. What a wonderful pleasure to be sitting in a human dwelling again, hear a clock ticking, and talk with a lively young girl instead of with myself! Why don’t I say something then?”
“Ah, how sweet you are!” I said. “I’m sitting here getting fascinated by you, at this moment I’m thoroughly fascinated. I can’t help it. You are the strangest person that… Sometimes your eyes are so radiant, I’ve never seen anything like it, they look like flowers. Eh? No, no, maybe not like flowers but… I’m madly in love with you, and it won’t do me a bit of good. What’s your name? Really, you must tell me what your name is…”
You know I’ve never head of this Knut Hamsun fellow before but I’ll check him out, think you’ve mentioned him before. I really like this little excerpt, seems to say a lot with not many words. Much appreciated the tip, Pete..
I like sharing it as reading you led me back to him, I’ve been reading him the last couple of days.
I just looked this fellow up, he is old school – crike, he won the nobel prize! I’ll have to see if I can grab some of his stuff.
For some odd reason I only do old school haha Except for Raymond Carver of course. 🙂
Now I see what you mean. Excellent.
In that case, please explain it to me.
pretty blooming excellent!
Thank you, poet.
Looks like your watching both sides. I dig it. Left, right. I’ve got you.
Thanks to you, I have also taken to posting publicly my grocery list. And my wads of laundry. And a bowl of water in case I finally luck upon a person curious enough to do it but can’t because he’s on a walk with his doggie and doggie wants a drink.
None such yet. Will keep posted. Look forward to reading more. Smooth random and biting edge of the sensical.
Glad someone got me, it’s cold here in the great white north. Public grocery lists – hey, I’m not here to get people in trouble, you know. You never know who might steal your grocery inspiration, not to mention clothes. Let me know when someone takes you up on the water dish.
Just trying different things, Brainstorming. Maybe I’ll put an ad in the paper.
I must inform you that I cannot take liability for any consequences resulting therefrom.
Just when I thought my sleeping habits were normal,you make napping a plus in between roaming thoughts(sometimes converted to words). I give this thought process extra time to dissolve,but will exclaim this,awesome.As for Knut Hamsun,one of my favs as well,as is Charles Bukowski.
Oh man, more homework. I will check out this Bukowski fella too. I don’t mean to disrupt sleep habits. If you wish, I can hypnotize away any memory of our interaction. This usually involves a bottle of something strong,only fair to warn you.
“Dream hard, rage hard.” Love it!
http://youtu.be/SGJFWirQ3ks