NEEDLING

MARDI FACILE

Back on the same bed at the same computer in front of the same screen listening to the same music. Once again I am drinking cheap blond beer. The only difference from last night is that I am wearing only my boxers, that the sun is out for the first time this year... the hot sun, the sun which promises spring and summer days. The sun of café lounging on terraces, the sun of relaxing time hanging out hours at a time by myself or with some drinking buddy watching all the pretty girls strut their stuff down the sidewalk...

It is 13h36. Insomnia all last night. Wrote some bad poetry. Stuff like:

I want to sleep.
Curdle Cuddle Bundle.
In my sheets buried inside
my two blankets
and my bright red sleeping bag.
Bright Red
like a ridding hood.

Cheap cognac doesn’t help none
maybe…
maybe that’s why
I can’t close my lids
my lids don’t clamp down
no more… no more lids
clamping down.

I wrote more such nonsense last night. Then I left off for work one hour early, wanting to be out of my studio more than not wanting to be at work. No coins to be found anywhere so as to go sit it out within the confines of an early bird café. And at work there was some trouble with a couple of ladies who live in London. They were getting their room paid for and on top of that they wanted all kinds of other services like free drinks, free breakfast, free pain-killers, free this free that… last night’s watchman, a replacement for the regular guy who’s sick, speaks five words of English, and those five words aren’t the same five words of English those two ladies spoke – they not being English in origin. I went to work one hour early to see them off and make sure their suitor paid up properly. I took a shower in room number 18. I took my time underneath all that hot water.

Now I’m home for a quick nap before hitting those beautiful spring streets once more. Got some work to do on my machine…