Tuesday, 23 August 2011

put im in a boat with the drunken sailor

the little man has finally appeared here upon these pages, he has made the fame or infamy of a post.  A short stitch in time the precedes another nine and then on and on into whatever.  The man was at his most obstrusive and flung his fury around the air like a exploding volcano, bits of molten castellano and english rang around and spurted from his obviously well over swollen cranium.  It was a beautiful day to look outside, i did for some time in the afternoon and was well and at peace.  He is a stranger man than most i would think and someone who is beginning a lurch perhaps into some kind of madness, perhaps not, this to me is not known but simply a mere suspicion that has been building.  It was nice to see the sun and to be able to bathe in its bright and warm glow.  I might have enjoyed today more if i had been less tired so i'm going for a sleep soon as i finish this.

       The girl who organizes the building of the houses thought she could ignore me more today, i think now she will moot over me more than ever.  The little man i think will bathe in the suffering he attempted to throw upon me with such arrogant vigour.  I wonder where the punk is now, the one with the leather boots and black jacket who sat across from me on the train this morning.  I wonder what time i will wake tomorrow.  I make music tomorrow if all goes well.  Perhaps go for a walk and see manny's music and look at a keyboard, then i will drift along brunswick street.  Fitzroy, overrun at present by a screaming upperclass hoard but ever simmering in it's own little vat of filth and inspiration.  Ever a pleasure my dear.

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