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#1967
*And whatever happened To Tuesday and so slow*? Van Morrison’67 ~~~ in the young days and nights of a youthful summer, Van’s Brown EyedGirl played endless on the transistor radio the dry heat was endless just as well, and the slow was just the way the time was counted, when it was counted, which wasn’t too often was 17 years of age with no cares, worries did not exist, ‘cept when I dreamed and conspired inside how I was gonna get that blue eyed blonde devil temptress to kiss me before the new school year commenced at the quarry where we all went swimming, the music asking questions, that nobody knew how to answer, whatever happened to Tuesday, and so slow, so slow, we never knew what the name of the day was, no reason to check the farm implements & hardware store calendar, or to X off any day special, for there was no such thing No, never got to kiss her, left the so slow, me and a buddy. took a rebuilt junker and set out for Cali, where the girls, where the beautiful girls, just surfed and smiled, and the nighttime beach parties went on till the when the last person left so quiet not sure how, ended up, in Seattle & Oregon, where met I my brown eyed girl whose car was over heating, steaming on a coastal highway, on a Tuesday, and it was no longer slow, it was treasured fast and a whirlwind blast, and that was 2025 - 1968, so 57 eons, nowadays, know what the name of every day is, where I’ll be and for how long, but truth be told, in my happy moments if you asked, could not tell the day, the time, when the brown eyed girl and I smile into each other’s eyes, and so slow is the sweetness of our lives,
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Dec 13, 2025
Dec 13, 2025 at 1:26 PM UTC
Summer ‘67: And whatever happened To Tuesday and so slow?
*And whatever happened To Tuesday and so slow*? Van Morrison’67 ~~~ in the young days and nights of a youthful summer, Van’s Brown EyedGirl played endless on the transistor radio the dry heat was endless just as well, and the slow was just the way the time was counted, when it was counted, which wasn’t too often was 17 years of age with no cares, worries did not exist, ‘cept when I dreamed and conspired inside how I was gonna get that blue eyed blonde devil temptress to kiss me before the new school year commenced at the quarry where we all went swimming, the music asking questions, that nobody knew how to answer, whatever happened to Tuesday, and so slow, so slow, we never knew what the name of the day was, no reason to check the farm implements & hardware store calendar, or to X off any day special, for there was no such thing No, never got to kiss her, left the so slow, me and a buddy. took a rebuilt junker and set out for Cali, where the girls, where the beautiful girls, just surfed and smiled, and the nighttime beach parties went on till the when the last person left so quiet not sure how, ended up, in Seattle & Oregon, where met I my brown eyed girl whose car was over heating, steaming on a coastal highway, on a Tuesday, and it was no longer slow, it was treasured fast and a whirlwind blast, and that was 2025 - 1968, so 57 eons, nowadays, know what the name of every day is, where I’ll be and for how long, but truth be told, in my happy moments if you asked, could not tell the day, the time, when the brown eyed girl and I smile into each other’s eyes, and so slow is the sweetness of our lives,
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54
A simple thought Can explain a complex emotion But, silence explains everything Except, the sunflowers
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Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
Your Sunflower Soul
The nurse said you were sitting outside. so I went outside and you were sitting on a bench on the lawn. You were wearing a dressing gown over a nightgown. "How did you find me?" You said patting the place on the bench beside you. "I followed what you said" I replied and sat down next to you. "None of the others who said they'd come ever turned up" you said. "I wanted to see you again" I said. "Why?" You said. "Because I like you and wanted to meet you again and wasn't sure if you'd turn up at the club anymore" I said. "Ah that's sweet" you said gazing at me. We talked a while and other patients came out on the lawn with visitors and sat about on the grass or on the few seats about. "Will you do something for me?" You said. "Sure what is it?" I said. You whispered in my ear. "What here in the hospital?" I whispered back. "Yes but somewhere quiet" you said and told me the place. So you led me inside in the hospital ward and along a passage. It was quiet and no one was about. "In here" you said and pulled me into a cleaner's room with bucket and mop and broom and boxes of toilet rolls. "Here?" I said. "Yes no one comes in here on Sundays" you said. It was dim with only light from a small light on the ceiling. And we did and all the short while I envisioned a nurse opening the door and seeing us in a semi naked state. But none did and we dressed and crept out of the room like naughty children from an orchard scrumping. So unexpected that day out of the blue visiting me and resident you.
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May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
First Visit to Nima 1967
The nurse said you were sitting outside. so I went outside and you were sitting on a bench on the lawn. You were wearing a dressing gown over a nightgown. "How did you find me?" You said patting the place on the bench beside you. "I followed what you said" I replied and sat down next to you. "None of the others who said they'd come ever turned up" you said. "I wanted to see you again" I said. "Why?" You said. "Because I like you and wanted to meet you again and wasn't sure if you'd turn up at the club anymore" I said. "Ah that's sweet" you said gazing at me. We talked a while and other patients came out on the lawn with visitors and sat about on the grass or on the few seats about. "Will you do something for me?" You said. "Sure what is it?" I said. You whispered in my ear. "What here in the hospital?" I whispered back. "Yes but somewhere quiet" you said and told me the place. So you led me inside in the hospital ward and along a passage. It was quiet and no one was about. "In here" you said and pulled me into a cleaner's room with bucket and mop and broom and boxes of toilet rolls. "Here?" I said. "Yes no one comes in here on Sundays" you said. It was dim with only light from a small light on the ceiling. And we did and all the short while I envisioned a nurse opening the door and seeing us in a semi naked state. But none did and we dressed and crept out of the room like naughty children from an orchard scrumping. So unexpected that day out of the blue visiting me and resident you.
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73
Nima was in a mood today at the hospital when I got there. I'd brought her cigarettes and chocolates, which brightened her up a bit. We sat outside on one of the seats out there and we lit up and talked. I'd been to London and had bought a Charles Lloyd jazz LP and I showed her. She gazed at the sleeve and gave it back. I told her about the Summer of Love thing I'd seen in London, lots of young people, guys with beards and long hair and flowery shirts and girls with long hair and beads. I said it seemed God had got His message through. She smiled and said God was a big illusion and the Summer of Love  was just another fashion thing. She was in that type of mood. She talked of *** how she wanted it, but there was no place about. She told me she needed *** so much even the night nurse looked interesting. She opened the box of chocolates and we ate a few. I think she was pleased I'd come, but at the same time seemed bored shitless. She talked about needing a fix, but I didn't answer as I knew nothing of that drug stuff. I said I had to go, so we walked back inside and kissed at the door of the ward, and I walked along the corridor and out of her sight. I dreamt of her a lot that night.
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
Nima in a Mood 1967
Jefferson Airplane performed Let Me In. It worked as a silent call For those, who never heard it From young women - men watching, listening. But their soul did shout it with tremendous joy, in denial of all those sentences of Let Me Go.
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Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 1:41 PM UTC
Summer Of L(Out Of Control)ve
He came today. Visited her at the hospital. She was in a mood, but he brightened the day, bringing her cigarettes and chocolates. He talked of God and the Summer of Love. She was part of that love that summer, but no God for her, least not where she lay in bed, lights out, massaging herself to a sensual joy in the dark. He showed her a jazz LP he'd bought. Boring **** she thought, but didn't say. Her parents didn't come, but he came today. She lay there her passion spent. She ate a chocolate he'd brought. She imagined she'd had *** with him; it was a lonely sport.
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Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
A Lonely Sport 1967.
God, you said, was a myth, no need in this scientific age for such as that. I met you by the Embankment off Charing Cross station. Straight away you attacked the faith. I could see something had upset you either at the hospital or maybe your mother's visit. How long have you got? I said. A day pass, got to be back by 7pm, you said, so let's not waste our time. We walked up to Leicester Square and ordered and ate lunch with cokes not alcohol because of your medication. Your mother had visited you last night and had put you in a bad mood with her talk of God and what the neighbours would say if they found out about the drug taking. After lunch we went and lay in Green Park. You talked of getting better and leaving home and I thought of that weekend we stayed at that cheap hotel off Charing Cross Road and that creaky bed. You talked on, but I couldn't recall what you said.
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Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
Nima in London 1967.
Benedict listened to Thelonious ********* out Round Midnight. That public house off Charing Cross Road, his old man sipping a light ale in a corner seat. Colonel they call me: the old man said; Benedict looked at the clipped moustache and sad dog eyes. All talk of the Desert Rats and Monty and sand and winds and free beer now and then. And that Irish woman in the box office, and him saying: this is my son. The woman all glittering eyes and broad smile. Wonder if he had? Wouldn't put it past. Died years later alone in some home stroke and dead; buried alone; just a few staff members at his funeral and ashes scattered in some numbered plot. What year did he meet? 67, yes that year. That girl in the club above the Regent eyeing him saying: my boyfriend's in the clink for drugs and I am in the hospital drying out come visit me. Benedict did; brought her cigarettes and took her for a drink down at the local pub if the nurse permitted. Thelonious Monk stopped. Silence of the grave; both his old man and Monk gone now. Looking back colours it somehow.
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 7:57 AM UTC
BENEDICT MUSED.
I am listening to Bruckner's 7th and I think back to 1967 and this guy says join the band(I played saxophone) we got gigs in Germany and Denmark next month he wanted me to play toot toot in the pop songs his band played but I said no I wanted to play jazz like Coltrane and Coleman not go toot toot behind some pop stuff sitting back as Bruckner ends I wonder if I got it wrong and should have gone toot toot behind the pop song.
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 3:49 AM UTC
Toot Toot Man.
Benny never heard from Nima again. Weeks past then months. He guessed she either forgot his address or was back on drugs or both. But he looked back at their time together and smiled. The times they made love and met and drank and ate. He remembered his hospital visits to see her but that was it now the show was over the actress had left the stage and the curtains had dropped or closed or whatever curtains do on stage. But he recalled that night in that cheap hotel in West London. That night of *** and bathing in that large bath together and the landlady knocking at the door with extra towels and he Benny there in his underwear and the old girl giving him the stare.
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Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 3:44 AM UTC
NO MORE NIMA 1967.
Nima met me by the fountain in Trafalgar Square. I'd not see her for a few weeks. She looked tired looking and her hair had been cut short. She was wearing a mini skirt and pink top. Wondered if you'd come she said. Once I got your letter I decided I would I said. (She had my address but I didn't have hers not since she moved back home after leaving the hospital.) Where shall we go? she said. I don't mind I said. I wanted for us to have a night out at some cheap hotel but my parents have their eyes on me and want to know where I am going and when I'll be back she said. I guess they are worried about you after the drugs and the hospital stay I said. I'm 19 she said I am old enough to be my own boss they just want me where they can control me. We walked along Charing Cross Road and entered a restaurant and sat down. We ordered drinks and a meal. The waiter went off and she looked at me. So how are you? she said. I'm ok work's still boring as hell I said. I gazed at her how drawn she looked. Are you back on drugs again? I said. No I'm not she said you sound like my parents I'm not eating as I should I don't feel hungry but I'll try to eat this meal. We waited for the order to arrive and talked and drank our drinks. I watched her sitting there her eyes dull and that shortness of her hair.
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Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
NIMA AND BENNY AGAIN 1967.
Every day it was the same the same pressing machine my hand pulling down the lever the two pieces of the secateurs pressed together. Brain numbing eye blinding work. My father up on the right riveting pulling down a lever moment after moment no relief. Radio pushing out pop pulp. Other guys behind each doing their own brain numbing work in sequence. I thinking of other things about jazz about playing my sax once I got home listening to Trane or Miles. My father (unknown to us becoming tired due to cancer). Some jerks behind taking the **** out of my hard of hearing father. I had ago at them I would have punched them but needed to keep the job and keep it cool. My father not hearing or knowing or if he had would have had them and lost his job not a good thing at his age. A year later he died from the cancer. I working some place else felt the deep loss and pain. I'd have punched those jerks if I had my time again.
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Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
EVERY DAY 1967
We lay on the grass in St James' Park Nima and I. Beneath a hot sun and pale blue sky. Wish there was some place we could go she said somewhere we could go and have *** Yes wish there was I said. People passed by on the path kids played on the grass in their childhood world and games. Ducks and drakes swam on the water over the way. Remember that time we had that room over by Charing Cross and the landlady came up and you opened the door in your underpants? Nima said. I can't forget the look on her face I said with a smile. You still off the drugs? I said. She moved her head and stared at me so far she replied. She was back home at her parents' place out of the hospital with the nurses and quacks. Bought that Beatles' LP she said looking back at the sky. I studied her rising and falling ******* beneath her red tee shirt her hands behind her head. Is it any good? I said wishing we were in some bed not here on the grass. It's fabulous she said played it over and over much to my parents' disapproval. I recalled that night in that cheap hotel room and watching her slow taking off clothes removal.
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Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC
*** DRUGS AND ROCK AND ROLL 1967.
I sat at the dining table. I didn’t want to go down from my room but my parents insisted. Don't talk about being in hospital or about your drug addiction Mother said to me before she went down from my room. I sat in between the thin lady who looked like Virginia Woolf and the fat man who had a moustache like Oliver Hardy. I sat mute looking at them as I ate Mother eyeing me in case I sang like a canary about my time in hospital for drug addiction. The talk was above my head mostly medical stuff or politics. My father eyed me now and then in case I broke out and gave the game away. Another guest was an MP who gazed at me and smiled. I didn't catch his name but he eyed me over but never spoke to me. The Virginia Woolf lookalike asked me what I was doing? I said eating dinner. Mother chided me for being rude the lady said not to worry she understood teenage girls. I thought of Benny how he'd be treated amongst this snobbish lot with their airs and graces. I felt like spitting in their food and slapping all their faces.
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Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 4:11 AM UTC
NIMA AT DINNER 1967
I am home from the hospital after months being there over the drug addiction. I am in my parent's care. My room is as it was nothing moved or changed (except tidied up). Downstairs my mother is attending dinner (guests are coming). Be on your best behaviour Nima mother said in the car home none of your nonsense. I told Benny I was leaving hospital and gave him my address I hope he writes. Maybe we can meet in London if my parents allow me out. I go to my window and peer out it's a wonder my mother hasn't put bars at the window. The sky is overcast grey clouds dull sun. If only Benny was here and on my bed. I don't miss the quacks or nurses at the hospital. I go lie on my bed and pretend Benny's here but he isn't so not joy or cheer.
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 4:19 AM UTC
NIMA BACK HOME 1967
I went with Benny to South Bank. We saw the boats and tugs passing by on the Thames. Some people waved and we waved back. Benny said my dad said I could go I hope so. Mum wasn't sure but let me go. Benny bought two ice creams from a vendor along by the River and we sat and ate them watching tennis in the tennis courts along the way. Mum and I wait for Dad to come home from work. I hope he's in a good mood and did say I could go with Benny. Benny wouldn't lie at least not to me. Mum's in the kitchen getting dinner. I sit in the living room waiting for Dad to come. Enid he'll say where and what did you do today? I can't lie he knows it if I try to lie my eyes he says give me away. The front door opens he's home the door closes. Voices from the kitchen Dad's voice is raised Mum's voice replies. An argument of some kind. I look at the floor pretend it's someone else's home another flat over the way. Not me here or if I am on another day.
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Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
ENID ANXIOUS 1957.
Nima said she was ****** off and wanted out of the hospital. I was visiting her outside on the lawn. She was in her nightgown getting some sun. What's up? I said. Everything from the quacks to the food to the **** ants creeping along the floor by my bed she said. Aren't you allowed out into town or up to London? I said. **** them Benny she said just because my mother put a bad word in they don't trust me out in case I go get a fix. A nurse passed by out on to the lawn to attend to a guy who was doing something with his ***** No no Henry not out here she said. Nima shook her head see what I mean I'm a druggie these people are mentally ill why am I with them? The guy was taken back into the ward by the nurse. I looked at Nima I wouldn't get you drugs I could tell them that I said. No use Benny they won't listen. She lit up a cigarette from the pack I brought her and I lit it and lit one for me. A radio played from the open window of the ward a Beatle song. We sat and smoked and talked more. Henry stood flashing by the open ward door.
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Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 1:07 PM UTC
VISITING NIMA 1967
Regrets O those are useless things Nima said have no value to the now of our being. Benny listened but said nothing as they walked along the Embankment by the Thames. What can you do with regrets? nothing they sit on your conscience if you have one and haunt you. They sat on a bench and lit up cigarettes. Do you regret meeting me? she said gazing at Benny. No never said I did he said. So why regret anything? all things happen so that is it she went on puffing out smoke now and then her words smoke engulfed. Had a bad day at the hospital? he asked looking at the Houses of Parliament over the River. Too true I have she said too ****** true had enough of them all the nurses fecking quacks trick-cyclists. She sighed and puffed on her cigarette. What happened? he asked. Said I couldn't have a weekend pass because my mother **** her middle-class morals said I might zap some drugs or sleep with some druggy although she knows I am with you I've told the ***** that. Benny looked at her. She has your best interests at heart he said. Nima gazed at him whose side are you on? No one's side just saying she may have he said. They were silent for a few minutes she musing on the hospital and the enforced stay statemented because of the drugs and mental instability. He wondering if the Ornette Coleman Jazz LP he'd bought earlier on was as good as he had read. Their conversation and dried up like something dead.
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Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
REGRETS 1967.
Your mother had brought the car to the hospital you were going home at last. Benny had rung yesterday and you arranged to meet him on Saturday in Trafalgar Square. The mind doctor had been to see you and you were packed. You said goodbye to the nurses who had been like a family to you while you had been in the hospital. Now it was over all you had to do now was stay off the drugs not get in touch with anyone who had got you into it. Your mother fussed about then went off to talk to the quacks. You wished Benny was there it seemed strange going after the time stuck in here except for weekends out. You stood by the window and looked out on the hospital grounds. You'd sat out there with Benny a few times now you were about to go. Your mother came back stiff faced her eyes on you don't end up here again Nima stay off the drugs next time it won't be just hospital it will be in jail. It seemed odd your mother saying that word like someone had invented a barking bird.
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Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 4:15 AM UTC
NIMA LEAVES HOSPITAL 1967.
I had rung Nima in the week at the hospital (the nurse wasn't happy about it but she brought Nima to the phone) she said she'd meet me in London by the Embankment station so on the Saturday I went to the station and waited for her people passed me on their way up West or back into the tube station going elsewhere then I saw her coming out from the underground she smiled when she saw me and hugged me and we kissed glad to see you she said the quacks weren't going let me out but they did eventually why wasn't they going to let you out? I said my mother had said I was not to go out but as I am over 18 they said she had no rights over me so they reluctantly let me go but I have to be back by dusk that's ok I said where do you want to go? I need a drink she said so we walked up the road and found a bar on Charing Cross Road we sat in a corner with our drinks and we lit up cigarettes I should be leaving the hospital soon she said if I stay off drugs and stay with my parents so should be able to see you easier at weekends that'd be good I said at your parent's place? no way there they'd interrogate you like the Gestapo Nima said we'll meet in London some place ok I said we talked on but I was just glad to watch her bright eyes and happy face.
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Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 3:52 AM UTC
MEETING AT THE EMBANKMENT 1967.
Nima is sitting waiting for you in the corridor of the hospital. You see her there in her dressing gown and her hair tied in a ponytail. She has her arms folded, and a dull look about her. Thought you weren't coming, she says. Train was delayed, you reply. Let's go sit outside in her grounds, she says. So you follow her out through French windows onto the grass and sit on a bench. How comes you're in your dressing gown? You say. They're worried I might try to escape, so I have to wear my dressing gown and nightie, she says. Why might you escape? you ask. Mother told them she told them I might get out for a fix. You nod your head: and would you? Possibly, she says, looking at you: got a smoke? You get out a packet and light one for both of you and you sit there smoking so what's been happening? You ask. Mother came and we had a row and she told them I might escape to London for a fix and they believe her, Nima says moodily; she inhales deeply you? What you been doing? You look past her at other patients walking on the grass: work making tools mainly, listen to jazz, you know usual, you say, too late to come see you here. Guess so, but I miss you Benny; each time I pass that small cupboard I think of us having that quickie there remember? Yes, you say smiling. They keep it locked now, Nima says, typical bad luck; what a life, no you, no ****
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Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC
BENNY'S VISIT 1967.
Standing on Westminster Bridge with Nima I sense she is in a bad mood: her features betray it, her senses send out signals. What sort of week have you had? I ask. Awful without you; I wish you lived nearer so I could see you everyday rather than just weekends; that place is driving me mad, Nima says, turning to look at me. I can't come in the week, I work and by the time I finish work and get a train up here it would be so late, I say. I know, but I just get so frustrated at the hospital; and then Mother came and gave me a lecture and put me in an even worse mood, Nima says, looking back at the Thames below where barges and small boats and the occasional ship pass by. Do you believe in God? She asks me suddenly staring at me again. Yes of course, I say. Why of course, she says, I don't I think its just mumbo-jumbo. Buses and cars pass by us behind on the road; people walk past on the pavement over the Bridge. Then the whole universe has no purpose, I say, it is all one big pointless circus without God, I say, looking at the Thames flowing. How comes it's pointless? She says, I wish you'd tell my mother that and maybe then she'd get off my back. Without God there is no real purpose to anything; it is all chance and a roll of a dice in black space, I say. Can we not talk about God; I feel depressed enough as it is, she says, I want a drink and something to eat and a bunk up, she adds, taking hold of my hand in hers. What here? I say. No, she splutters laughing, in the Leicester Square or somewhere. What *** too? I say. That will be postponed until we can get a room one weekend, she says, becoming serious again. Big Ben tolls and I look at my watch: it is 1pm. All right let's go then you and I and have a bite to eat and a drink to drink, I say. So we walk off the Bridge, walk up Whitehall and she talks of her mother and the doctors and nurses and wanting a fix. I tell her about my week and work and the whole box of tricks.
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Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 4:27 AM UTC
BOX OF TRICKS 1967.
Standing on Westminster Bridge with Nima I sense she is in a bad mood: her features betray it, her senses send out signals. What sort of week have you had? I ask. Awful without you; I wish you lived nearer so I could see you everyday rather than just weekends; that place is driving me mad, Nima says, turning to look at me. I can't come in the week, I work and by the time I finish work and get a train up here it would be so late, I say. I know, but I just get so frustrated at the hospital; and then Mother came and gave me a lecture and put me in an even worse mood, Nima says, looking back at the Thames below where barges and small boats and the occasional ship pass by. Do you believe in God? She asks me suddenly staring at me again. Yes of course, I say. Why of course, she says, I don't I think its just mumbo-jumbo. Buses and cars pass by us behind on the road; people walk past on the pavement over the Bridge. Then the whole universe has no purpose, I say, it is all one big pointless circus without God, I say, looking at the Thames flowing. How comes it's pointless? She says, I wish you'd tell my mother that and maybe then she'd get off my back. Without God there is no real purpose to anything; it is all chance and a roll of a dice in black space, I say. Can we not talk about God; I feel depressed enough as it is, she says, I want a drink and something to eat and a bunk up, she adds, taking hold of my hand in hers. What here? I say. No, she splutters laughing, in the Leicester Square or somewhere. What *** too? I say. That will be postponed until we can get a room one weekend, she says, becoming serious again. Big Ben tolls and I look at my watch: it is 1pm. All right let's go then you and I and have a bite to eat and a drink to drink, I say. So we walk off the Bridge, walk up Whitehall and she talks of her mother and the doctors and nurses and wanting a fix. I tell her about my week and work and the whole box of tricks.
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106
Nima's mother has gone, her nagging tongue gone with her. Nima sits and watches the passing traffic from the hospital window. She wishes Benny was there, wishes he was coming today, but she knows he works in the week, and so won't be able to come. It seems a long week when he doesn't come. She wants to meet him in London if she can get the doctor's permission for a day release. She wishes it could be for a weekend again, but her mother has probably put her spoke in the wheel and the doctor will only allow a day release, her being a recovering drug addict and probable suicide. That last weekend with Benny was a laugh. The landlady coming to the door and Benny just in his underwear, and the *** good . Now nothing, just the nurses and the doctors sniffing around like hounds. She is so *** starved that at night even the plump night nurse seems **** and desirable to a small degree. She feels like a small ship on a wide wild sea.
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Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 3:23 AM UTC
NIMA AT SEA 1967.
Nima's mother came to the side ward where her daughter Nima was sitting by a window in her dressing gown looking at the passing trains. You look no better, her mother said. Better than what? Nima said, turning to eye her mother. Than last time, her mother said, walking into the ward, and sitting in a chair by the bed. You look tired. I am tired, always tired, Nima said, looking away from her mother, focusing on a train going by. Her mother sighed. You need to get better, how is the treatment? Ask the quacks they're in charge not me, Nima said, watching a milk float go by on the road across the way. You are a very spoilt child and rude, her mother said. Have you come to upset me or what? Nima said. Have you seen that boy again? May have, Nima said, turning to gaze at her mother. Have you or not? Her mother said in a firmer voice. What is it to you whom I see? Nima said. He could be a drug pusher and you'd be back in dirt hole again, her mother said. He's not a pusher, he has nothing to do with drugs which is why I like him, Nima said, remembering she and Benny in the cheap hotel bed making out at the weekend. Is he our type? Mother said. Our type? I doubt it very much and am glad, Nima said. Her mother sighed and stood up and walked to where her daughter sat and stood over her. If it wasn't for me you'd be in some cheap ward with the others, Mother said coldly. When did you see him last? At the weekend, Nima said, seeing in her mind's eye she and Benny in the bed stark naked, curtains drawn back taking in the view. What did you do? Mother said. Nothing much, sat and talked, Nima said, remembering the landlady coming to the door with tea that Sunday morning and Benny going to the door in just his underwear and she(Nima) smiling at the landlady's stare.
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Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
WEEKEND AWAY 1967.
Nima's mother came to the side ward where her daughter Nima was sitting by a window in her dressing gown looking at the passing trains. You look no better, her mother said. Better than what? Nima said, turning to eye her mother. Than last time, her mother said, walking into the ward, and sitting in a chair by the bed. You look tired. I am tired, always tired, Nima said, looking away from her mother, focusing on a train going by. Her mother sighed. You need to get better, how is the treatment? Ask the quacks they're in charge not me, Nima said, watching a milk float go by on the road across the way. You are a very spoilt child and rude, her mother said. Have you come to upset me or what? Nima said. Have you seen that boy again? May have, Nima said, turning to gaze at her mother. Have you or not? Her mother said in a firmer voice. What is it to you whom I see? Nima said. He could be a drug pusher and you'd be back in dirt hole again, her mother said. He's not a pusher, he has nothing to do with drugs which is why I like him, Nima said, remembering she and Benny in the cheap hotel bed making out at the weekend. Is he our type? Mother said. Our type? I doubt it very much and am glad, Nima said. Her mother sighed and stood up and walked to where her daughter sat and stood over her. If it wasn't for me you'd be in some cheap ward with the others, Mother said coldly. When did you see him last? At the weekend, Nima said, seeing in her mind's eye she and Benny in the bed stark naked, curtains drawn back taking in the view. What did you do? Mother said. Nothing much, sat and talked, Nima said, remembering the landlady coming to the door with tea that Sunday morning and Benny going to the door in just his underwear and she(Nima) smiling at the landlady's stare.
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I got us a room, I said to Nima, this weekend. She looked at me, then at a passing nurse, a neat arsed girl who caught my eyes. So where is it? Nima said. In town here, not too far, I said. Was it difficult? She said, they're a bit staid here. No problem, I said. Nima nodded her head and crossed one of her legs over the other sitting in a hospital chair, outside in the grounds, and I caught sight of lovely thighs. Got any smokes? She asked. Sure, I said, and got out a packet of cigarettes, and gave them to her, after taking one myself, you keep them, I can buy some more, I said. We lit up and sat there in silence for a few moments. I prefer London, she said, for a cheap hotel and life, but we haven't got time to waste travelling; I need *** and can't wait for Saturday to come, but I'll have to. I studied her: seen your mother since last time? I said. No, not since she found out about me having *** with someone at my aunt's place, Nima said. Shame, I said, it was a nice place. Nice bed too, Nima said, wonder what my cousin'll think if she finds out I ****** you in it. A nurse came to the table and looked at Nima: the doctor is here to talk with you, the nurse said. Now? Nima said. Yes now, the nurse said. All right, look Benny, you best go, I don't know how long I'll be with the quack. Ok see you Saturday, I said. Nima walked off with the nurse: the nurse with a neat **** and I watched them go and quickly pass.
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Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 3:17 PM UTC
NIMA AND A BOOKED ROOM 1967