Stu's Rusty Bucket

Tuesday, June 17, 2003

bloody life

packed tubes to work.
packed tubes back home.
fighting the current of people in oxford street. Everyone is ALWAYS going the opposite way you are going, pushing you two steps back and one left for each forward step you take.
“we cant afford to keep your other programmer on” two months back has turned into “we are making him permanant and giving him a bonus”
someone steals a million pounds worth of new harry potter books.
i watched ‘mannequin’ (old 80s movie with brat packer Andrew McCarthy and Kim Cattral) tonight. I could do with a little of that magic in my life maybe.. I just have to figure out what shop on oxford street sells it!
i’m drinking far far too much vanilla coke lately and need to cutback.
bought a flapjack today. it had sweetner in it. one bite.  alergic. bewm. it made me throw up my lunch. fucking sweetner.
some old shit.. dunno why i dug this out but something triggered its memory tonight
this is circa 1995 or 6. i’m in a bloody shitty mood. .. (the line about the sparrow i associate with a book i remember reading, The King’s Fifth by Scott O Dell.. mmm)…
we wash our hands on the blood of roses,
forgetting what our madness told us to do,
for these people we smile at and claim friendship,
we wrap them in a friendly color,
only to kick them when they turn their backs.
trust is fleeting, friendship is fleeting
but hate filters into the mind.
these are things sparrows feel,
flighty and feerless in the grip of the storm,
but we are human right?
i watch the friendships fade like the page in an old book.
let the heavens move you, through the demntia of
a warm breast.
my friends.
the sun just set.

Drizzle wet and slow, like thinking… For a Short Time…

Sometimes you can say more, in a drunken hour or so
Than some people get across, in a life of lying low.
And sometimes you can feel more, for someone you’ve barley kissed,
but you don’t see it at the time, and the moment that you’ve missed.
For a short time, she was standing there,
and you saw her, she saw you and you recall the colour of her hair.
For a long time, you never thought of her,
Then you heard she was gone for good,
You might have cried then if you could,
Would have looked foolish if you did, somewhere
The tears are falling in your mind,
For a short time.
There’s a photo of your gang, on the night she hung about,
and you’re looking like a wag, you’ve got your fat tongue poking out.
But she’s no-where to be seen, you won’t spot her anywhere.
It was her who took the picture, you were looking straight at her.
For a short time, she was standing there,
and you saw her, she saw you and you recall the colour of her hair.
For a long time, you never thought of her,
Then you heard she was gone for good,
You might have cried then if you could,
Would have looked foolish if you did, somewhere
The tears are falling in your mind,
For a short time.
Tell me how long is a short time, is it longer than two hours,
Or a bit less than a weekend. Is it shorter than a year?
Is it the time it takes to not complete your business with a person,
With a friend you make in transit,
to a daughter held so dear.