Taking Tea for a Ride

June 8, 2008

What can I say about this weekend… I threw up in a public toilet for the third time. By that I mean, I’ve spewed in this same one toilet three times. Actually I think it’s probably the third time in total that I’ve spewed in any public toilet, they just happen to have all been in the same toilet. Wait no, that’s not true, I’ve spewed in the Amplifier toilet a number of times. I used to do that to make myself less sick and drunk and more able to continue partying. Now I am less willing to go to even conventional lengths to party even a minimal amount. You have to drag me away from homework to a pub just down the road. That also isn’t true – I gamely accepted such an offer last night without much in the way of protest, but compared to the canon-shot force with which I used to propel myself randomly and anonymously into the night time it almost constitutes an arm-bend. At the moment it seems to me that, unless you have a vested interested in social climbing or simply expansion, or penis and/or vagina hunting, going out is a haphazard, unnecessary violence. Why do you get out of it at the end of the night? If people like you, a drunken ego. If they don’t, a battered one. Is this the kind of thing people write before they go on rampages? Hope not! Anyway, I’m sure I’ll get back into the swing of things eventually. You can take the boy out of the meat market but you can’t take the meat market out of the boy.

Splendour
I have known the post-laugh languor of your eyelids
your crinkled eye corners, your wet eye whites
your cheeks puffy and prone to blushes, your loose boy shirts
cream white and specked with curry, the wrinkles
of your mother’s ankles fringing her Capri pant cuffs
on their quarter-hourly stalk of your doorway,
the familiar sting of your unshaven shins and the
books, blankets and broaches beaching your bed botch.
And I have known the pull of your hairclips
choppy charcoal casting caught on your scalp, clawed
from your big black hair, falling then into curls
as you pushed your laptop closed and I pulled you close
your bedroom’s splendour electric on your lips.

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