Bleak expectations!
Ready yourself for the big surprise:
There is no spinach.
Liverpudlians go shopping on the wireless.
The light dims.
Cheer up!
It’s not the end of the world.
Says who?
Am I talking to me?
No, thank Gawd…
just the voices in my head.
We sit and wait and write.
What is there to do?
Exercise, sleep, leisure:
the high life, or what?
Friday afternoon, the excitement of the weekend starts to build,
the thrill of the familiar, a chance of the known unknown.
Minor risk-taking, for me nowadays, is perhaps a late film.
I do not drink at home these days and I never go out at all.
There are some chicken thighs that need something doing to them, and spuds.
Hope there is spinach and rashers. Don’t fancy another Ruby Murray.
Journal & diary:
conversational
Confessional:
Mindblurt!
pain & joy spot,
release and imprisonment,
devotion
and negligence,
memory
and reminder,
history
and bunk.
Mind to word to mind,
here and back again.
Lifeswork.
Chimneysweeps & luminaries.
Matters and matters not.
Ambivalence and catatonia,
worthlessness and worthiness,
stuff and nonsense,
I & I,
having a word,
saying things, finding wings,
more to do, more to do…
Grimbeau 