.i count alright... taking cerberus for a walk: my shadow, a beer and some music; thank god i don't own a car and i can walk with headphone cushions in my ears - not stuck in some sardine canned heat... headphones and walking until the legs do the walking, the heart does the beating rhythm and the mind... forgets itself with any origins of a prefixed self-, or any other constable lieutenant colonel or a major major - of pop self-help cries-for-a-guru pseuchology...

it really has been a music-lover's gehenna...
imagine:
not having an mp3 - attached to your frame
of body - for four months walking
the street without music -
esp. at night -
four months - until i finally succumbed
and had someone buy me a steal of
a 16GB supereye M3 for 20 quid...
once more... magic returned...
if only those cars made the sound of horse hooves
on cobblestones -
mind you: there are no chirping sounds of
birds come night - sometimes the barking
dog - but that's truly rare on the more frequented
streets...
because i had this routine -
3 beers approx. 1 hour and catching a 2 mile
radius... circa...
something to get me away from the current
soap-opera trash of youtube central...
and again the magic... this unspectacular poo'em
for one...
but a walk down a subway beneath the eastern
avenue...
a crime scene - on my way to the petrol station
for the third beer -
a crime scene... an unopened can of baked beans
in tomato sauce...
and a book... with blood over it...
the miracle on the river kwai -
by ernest gordon - the synopsis still reads...
since 1955 has been dean of the chapel of princeton
university. he is married, with a son and daughter.
- and all it was a life content - a lesson in -
this is hardly venice - this is hardly paris -
this is hardly a place of grand expectations -
which also implies that one can bloom, blossom
and ride a white tiger to the zenith -
and no one will interrupt anyone -
because life is best served as a simple
carbonara... when it needs to be fancy...
hell... it can be...
20 quid... and a former love of mine... missing
for over 4 months...
beer, shadow and music... and the night...
why shadow?
i found myself admiring the shadow whenever
i took a walk at night...
the anti-narcissus focus point -
through beer and music on headphones into
the mix... and a scene like that in the subway...
i'm a terrible tourist...
sometimes i go places and forget to send
postcards... or take photographs...
i'm merely there to absorb a sensation...
the lost: almost art - of having enough patience
for someone to take a photograph
of you without you asking for one -
while in the vicinity of home -
eyes darting from my own shadow -
the moon - less the trees and more when
my shadow passes and fuses itself with
the shadows of these trees -
walking on the pavement while also sliding across
walls - enlarging - shrinking under
the streetlamps -
and there's only the ability to glug,
walk and listen: or rather not listen -
as i almost would have wasted the 30 quid on
an oeuvre of kenneth koch...
that's 20 quid on a new mp3 player...
and 10 quid on a new pair of shoes...
the concept of money:
well... if i ever sink into a state of having to write
cliche rhymes - on thank you notes,
on greeting cards...
on... the dross and drool of where words sometimes
go to: look hippopotamus ugly -
scortched and on holiday - mud dripping -
when words do that: to frighten the pelicans.