somewhere someone softly weeps

not so strange

they play for keeps

are these the words of a song?

or cryptamnesia from hits on the bong

the sounds of the sirens softly rings

much too late I think these things.

I am sure some of these words

are not mine they are of those

New York guys in those sweaters

the one called garfunkel which is to me, a bloody strange name

simply Simon is not the same

I suppose that’s the key to the whole thing

makes us grab it and therefore…

the words trail off there are no more

This is not what I came to do, but then I think screw you

But I take that back of course

I am just being real, as time goes on I hope to heal

and these words are no big deal

I am sure soon enough I’ll have said much worse

My reader would be shocked

if they only understood

and won’t that would

it won’t it won’t it bloody won’t

even if by now it boody should.

and it was good, he looked around

and it was good

surveyed his handiwork, and it was good

Ok, so I have come in as part of the ongoing process. Trying to establish these habits, that are so talked of. Because I am out of time completely now. I have spent some time today talking to people, (four different people plus two text connections) and I have this internal battle, where I can recognise that I feel different, probably better, than I do on the average day where I only connect with one other person. (always the same person, but we are into a vicious cycle of not actually being very good for each other. I know I am not very good for her etc. Since she is the reader in question, well, she knows how I feel about this question.)

So don’t worry babe. It’s just me airing our dirty laundry.

I suppose I shouldn’t.

But it’s not personal.

She is the greatest girl. But she’s not here.

She’s there, a long way away, and that is not working already. It’s only been years. Like heaps.

But at the same time I have the very strong feeling of having not gotten very much done today. That feeling in one sense is false, but in another very real way, it is true. So I certainly didn’t get any writing done towards this new pile of writing that I am to build.

And I suppose I am making it plain, that as I get things under control, I am leaving myself a lot of work going back and editing out all the shit that I never should of said in the first place.

I think the correct English grammar is should have, but fuck English grammar, to the extent that I am going to let it change me from the ignorant country bumpkin that I purport to be.

On that note, the insane, unnatural stillness of the loungeroom/studio/office has to be getting near to the point of being considered a freak of nature.

All I have to do is something that seems like a finishing up action, of any description and the spell will be broken, as it is now well into the time of night that they call theirs.

And once that happens cleaning up and posting will be a real chore.

Be aware of how privileged you are reading my unedited brain regurgitations.

I really feel, from here at least, that that is the only way I could possibly add value.

So, although I reserve the right to change my mind, and change my plan, you will hear from me again

I will try hard to show, a little bit of all I know

what I think would add value.

In the end that’s up to you.

If you are just starting to try and imagine trying to transition as a (¡¿failed?!) artist to being a money making t-shirt designer well so am I. I hope you come along at some point in the future, when there is a bit of value already built up.

Or maybe you will follow along (mum) (only kidding, my mum’s not on the internet)

I am going to try and add value with this blog.

But that ain’t started yet.

Anyway, this is it for this second step in a row.

Non-post, and maybe it won’t be the last.

But I am going to go over it only once and publish. And I am not going to take out that personal stuff. Unless the shit hits the fan, but I doubt that.

It’s the only thing I am continuing to promise, as yesterday.

The truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth, to the extent allowed by law. And common decency, to an extent.

But if your idea of common decency doesn’t include the ability to say

 

many fucks were given

once in a while, maybe you won’t wanna follow along.

Yours truly

el bicho

scotty

scotty.es

One Comment

  • serioussix@gmail.com says:

    and yes, dogs exploded already, they tell when I publish. seems pretty wild

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