Thursday. Waste. Reflect.

Here is a shorthand, non-poetic summary of my Thursday evening:

Night off, planned to spend it writing but instead
get a call to do something I don’t really want to,
but hey, it’s for the kids at school, so fine,
I get a ride and go.
It sucks and I’m not needed in the end,
though that was clear as soon as I arrived.
So I’m stuck there, grumbling to myself,
drinking with money I really don’t have,
getting mad at anything and everything,
not least of all myself.
I put $10 bucks on a dog that comes in 5 to 1,
so I’ve got this winning ticket
but it’s too late to cash it.
Get a lift into town, drinking ciders all the while.
Hang out at soul night for a bit,
making an ass of myself.
Heading over to the pub to cash my ticket,
50 bucks quickly becomes none, shouting drinks
for friends and strangers alike.
Walk to someone’s home with some other strangers,
spill some red wine on their floor.
Wake-up early and get a lift home,
tongue parched, headache, self-pity and self-loathing.
Hate the world as well, just for good measure.
Want to spend all day in bed, but drag myself
out of it in time to teach a lesson at 4 PM.
Collect my money and go home, and straight back into bed.
That song remains unwritten.

Besides being not productive, I found some comfort in the following lines, as I am wont to do…

The first comes from T. S. Eliot, in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock:

“I have measured out my life in coffee spoons”

Then my favourite Morrissey line from my favourite Smiths songs, “Half A Person”:

“And if you have 5 seconds to spare
Then I’ll tell you the story of my life”

And lastly, a line from Youth Group’s Toby Martin, from “All This Will Pass”:

“But you’re talking to yourself,
you’re as lonely and as desperate
as a kettle boiling with no-one there to get it.”

I shall not compare T.S. Eliot with Morrissey, or Morrissey with Toby Martin, or any other configuration of some non-existent trivalry.  That would be pointless, besides sheer folly.  All I will say is that I love each of those lines in my dark, brooding hours and look upon them as being very, very spot on.  What they describe, they do so very well.  It almost hurts how perfect they got it.

Cheers to you all.  Better days ahead, I hope.

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