Thursday, 20 August 2015

No service Thursday

sleep late, a good rest, a test.
Son is up, sitting on the living room couch. The cat a-purr, begging for food, even though it has plenty on its plate.
Dry biscuit and what it wants is fresh tin. All phoney.
Son has a new fascination, eight millimeter films, their projection. His grandfather gave him an old projector yesterday, and all the eight millimetre family memories, the wife as a very young girl. and so he gets the thing and sets it up in the sitting room and makes noises.
A very loud humming noise.
Outside traffic, building workers, pounding the sand they use to fill the holes dug during the week, pounding it into place with machinery that seems to make all of the surroundings shake, a low vibration.
Bad vibrations.
Bells ring
and the tinnitus howls, left hand side in the head.
And during all of this, just make breakfast coffee.
wait, suffer and bear it all.
Every one does their own thing.

Take the coffee.
more bells
cat complains, it is losing it's kitten voice.
The son turns on the television.
Tinnitus is moving to both ears now,
Madness.
There is no one to talk to nothing to think of do anything it is wrong, run anywhere and it is nowhere, feel hardship, and be reminded that it could be worse, that it is worse for others, a steady impingement on the head and unclarity as to what to do next.

Today is a bad day, destructive and alone.






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