Takers of the Money, Leavers of the Box,
I should have taken a holiday by now. My brain is faltering, I find it difficult to concentrate but I’m blaming a problem with my sinuses. Physically, I’m fine; I’m playing more football now than I have for a while, unfortunately.
I’m still struggling to sleep and dreaming erratically, a nightmare about The Rezillos’ Top of the Pops was particularly disconcerting.
I’m cranky about football; I could get crankier about that. I’m cranky about radio; I used to love radio but the recent changes have left me disillusioned, perhaps I will become more addicted to Current TV
(apt for someone with a short attention span like me). I’m cranky about music, I’m struggling to bring myself to like things, I don’t want to shut up my CD collection and say that’s enough (it won’t really happen because I have bought 3 new things by myself and managed to hear new things through other people – but the listening tests are growing more stringent). I'm cranky about science; things never work as they should.
If music cannot sooth my brain then I must see the sea. I don’t know what I’d do without the sea. It amazes me to think that there is nothing but water until one of The Bellyaches massive daundering along a Danish shoreline in some of the directions that I might look in. I like the birds. I even managed to understand why people would play links golf. People on the beach are usually better than the people on the streets. I love the beach debris. I love pieces of broken glass that have been eroded in the sea. They are one of the best things to touch. Any rectangular shapes are ground to safe curves. Sharp edges and jagged points, created in anger and recklessness, are rendered harmless. The once brittle material seems to be galvanised after weeks, months and years in the waves; it feels as if it becomes more solid and stronger after weathering the sea’s punishment. I’m confused as to why I collected all these pieces of glass from the beach, I have no use for them and after they’ve finally made their way home, isn’t their removal to a fabricated environment once more a theft of a kind?
I’m still struggling to sleep and dreaming erratically, a nightmare about The Rezillos’ Top of the Pops was particularly disconcerting.
I’m cranky about football; I could get crankier about that. I’m cranky about radio; I used to love radio but the recent changes have left me disillusioned, perhaps I will become more addicted to Current TV
(apt for someone with a short attention span like me). I’m cranky about music, I’m struggling to bring myself to like things, I don’t want to shut up my CD collection and say that’s enough (it won’t really happen because I have bought 3 new things by myself and managed to hear new things through other people – but the listening tests are growing more stringent). I'm cranky about science; things never work as they should.If music cannot sooth my brain then I must see the sea. I don’t know what I’d do without the sea. It amazes me to think that there is nothing but water until one of The Bellyaches massive daundering along a Danish shoreline in some of the directions that I might look in. I like the birds. I even managed to understand why people would play links golf. People on the beach are usually better than the people on the streets. I love the beach debris. I love pieces of broken glass that have been eroded in the sea. They are one of the best things to touch. Any rectangular shapes are ground to safe curves. Sharp edges and jagged points, created in anger and recklessness, are rendered harmless. The once brittle material seems to be galvanised after weeks, months and years in the waves; it feels as if it becomes more solid and stronger after weathering the sea’s punishment. I’m confused as to why I collected all these pieces of glass from the beach, I have no use for them and after they’ve finally made their way home, isn’t their removal to a fabricated environment once more a theft of a kind?
posted by Leif at 10:42 PM
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