Bonjour, greetings, what’s happening?
I am back. Yes, indeed. Had a lovely little week with my wife in Malta, in celebration of my birthday, which is today, happy birthday me. I am @!171& *i!@ years old. Old enough to feel old whilst dancing at a pool-party in Malta to some House and Techno, but young enough to be able to dance at a Pool Party in Malta, to some House and Techno, with the odd bit of hip-hop and jungle and the occasional sit-down for a breather.
Got straight back in the mix this week, continuing my work with Dream Arts – where we’re developing a show with a group of unaccompanied asylum-seekers. We’re on the last leg of the show now and they’re doing great. However, my co-director, Catherine, is away on holiday this week and next. Catherine also runs the project, ie does all the admin, and it’s a lot! – So I stepped in this week and if you’ve been following any of my stories about employment, this is not one of my strong points!
Here's a draft of a piece I started this week, about how easily distracted I am. Once I’ve posted this, it’s Lager Time for real. Plan on putting a few lagers away tonight, with some good mates, eat a curry, then go and have it to some drum and bass in Brixton. Yes
Have a banging weekend
Paul
Fingers On The Buzzer
I like my morning read
don’t like being disturbed
focus is finite
There’s already enough noise inside my head
Don’t need anymore
Missus is away
Dogs are away
Just me, my thoughts, a book and a tea and
whatever peripheral street sounds are
Coming in through the window
Summer’s in, mate
Back door ajar, washing out
Let’s get down to business
I’m tyring to get into this book about employment
So far it’s touched on Marxism and unions and neo-liberalism
Just touches, that punch like blows to my brain
I have to really concentrate
take my time
Re-reading paragraphs
Try to make it make sense
Got the usual internal racquet distracting me with
Nonsense, throwing me off
some fly buzzes in
this thick black one that moves like a pinball on amphetamines
Notoriously hard to catch
They drive my wife round the bend
She zaps them with this barley legal tennis-racket
That produces a small electric shock
Like a whimsical execution amusement ride at 1950’s Butlins
Me, I’m not so bothered
usually
Today
I am though
It’s the final distraction
tipping my focus over the edge
to a place I know oh so well
where faded bits of homework barley-started
funding-forms and unborn projects
have a permeant home
in some sweaty purgatory of
shame and failure
the little prick has my full focus now
I’m willing it towards the window
Go on son, do one
The thing is so erratic it gets to the
Window and just bounces off the glass and
pings straight back in the opposite direction
What’s you’re objective here, mate?
Where are you going?
What are you trying to do?
Lay eggs?
Bite something?
Bang something?
Don’t suppose these flies lie in the pollination game?
Should ask my mate, Leeds
This is his territory
Alas, he’s in Greece
So what is it this prick wants?
Is it a proxy agent working for my wife?
Sending detailed surveillance notes about my activities?
Or lack of
Can’t be
My wife would never fraternise with the enemy
Her principles are titanium
As is her stubbornness
Look at this noisy prick
That’s a lot of sound for a tiny black blob
Just go away, mate
Please
Just
go
To be fair
it is a bit nuts
in an interesting way
This hairy black blob
Nipping through the air like
An Apache helicopter over a busy airbase
Prepping for war
The battlefield of my living-room
Agent-pollen dropping relief sacks onto the floor
It’s quite amazing, actually
Defying gravity like that
Fair-play you annoying fuzzy prick
It heads towards the window again
Makes it this time
Trough the crack and out into freedom
And just like that
peace is restored
I feel good, relief at last
No one was hurt in the airing of this and
I’ve now got something to write about
What was I doing before?
