Random Unsorted Drafts

Note to self: You know this worry that has been spinning and turning and rumbling around for a while. About being alive but not having a life. Well, tonight I learned that you can actually have a life without being alive! It is all about being an object, and to transition between contexts, just get made, get used, and find a suitable afterlife; you can live forever, without actually needing to be alive. Wicked.

the kiss

It has now been ten years

since I kissed a pair of lips,

They were the only pair

I ever found worth kissing,

I have resigned the thought

of ever kiss such lips again,

Better to stay true to self

and linger; yet dreaming

this time

So, I made the plan that was a requirement this time. The ‘Essay Plan’ that would revolutionise my career and take my writing to new heights. I then turned towards the actual work, the writing. The Conclusion came easy, followed by an Introduction fitting for royalties. With 20% of the essay completed I sighed; where’s the body of this essay suppose to come from? The ‘Essay Plan’ clearly stated from where but […] . So I ended up on the sofa; with a pizza and a bottle of wine… Hemingway never said ‘write drunk; edit sober’, but I think this is going to be one of those nights.

On Average

I am, all things considered, fairly average,

On days of sunshine; a genius I admit,

Under dark clouds; a stupid, stupid git: git,

I am, all things considered, fairly average,

Cut me in half; any point will do,

You will find me in equal parts; of two,

A biped, one glass half-full; one half-empty,

I am, all things considered, fairly average

Icicles on the morrow

A hope once held in steady hand,
Aligning life; present all around,
Simple as a task; like tuning a guitar,
Board a taxi; destination: afar,
Ignoring cost; saving face, and cake.

A dream once presented; black and white,
Be there; defiant in the no-go areas,
Show no fear; show no sorrow,
Birds will sing; and Shostakovich dream,
Is there time left; tick tock says the clock.

A thought once lost; irrelevant alikely,
Catch a bird; in hand has value,
Sparrows or Hummingbirds alike,
Bygones be bygones; be that as it was,
Icicles form without death or sorrow.

On this I will ponder; on the morrow.

The Eight Social Classes in Britain (March 29, 2019)

  1. Eliteย 
  2. Established middle class
  3. Technical middle class
  4. New affluent workers
  5. Traditional working class
  6. Emergent service workers
  7. Precariat
  8. EU Citizen dregs

More about the first seven can be found here:

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/12037247/the-seven-social-classes-of-21st-century-britain-where-do-you-fit-in.html

Number eight will be a mandatory default for many on March 29 2019

winter is coming

Today I woke to a world covered in snow. Once upon a time, that would have made me happy. Not now. In the kitchen the leftovers of yesterday’s dinner, cold. Nothing’s really changed, Domino’s deliver my pizzas cold; running more than an hour late. Without a real effort to apologise, it’s the weather and some shit about a broken down vehicle. I am blacklisting dominos.co.uk in the router. Never again will they enjoy my business. Winter is coming, tell your friends.

I was happy once,

I recall the ache of too much

laughter

.

Where did that all go?

.

All those years ago

.

Did I not deserve more?

.

Was there sin of

karmic proportions?

.

I was unaware then; loitering,

walking down a path

not meant for me

.

Ending up here; alone,

where happy is a word

in a dictionary

I do not own

.

sadly

.

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