What would the son do without the brother? There’s a tingling numbness down the right side of my throat. Starting just below the ear and extending to my adams apple. Some times my tongue and lips tingle again with the buzzing. It gets worse when I smoke. But now I realise its not so much a buzzing as a hiss, or has it just changed as my mind wandered off. Now the light is closer in fact here it is, lamplight through the window. The back of a house at the end of a long garden so cultivated that the comparison with where I’ve just come from jars for a moment and I cant quite. The window is open letting the white noise of full volume TV static out into the night. Which by now is definitely what surrounds us. Pink noise white noise the sound of stars. Background microwave radiation from the begining of cosmological time. It’s a hiss and a buzz. Cosmological space time. Greater even than geological time which were just not wired correctly to conceptualise in our measurings of lifes mere decades. Now the smell is even stronger. Burnt tin. Over charged flex. Twin and earth dessicated. Seared bakelite. Back electro motive force, out of its cage. I’m tired and cold and wet and hungry and I want to go home. But that’s just my usual state of mind. This is something else, something.
That’s really when the panic attacks started in earnest. Not immediately after the old mans G3 but close enough for me to feel his fear irradiating me. After they moved to Bristol. After the bypass operation and his fear sharpend. Doubtless distressing. But traumatic also for those around him. Not stressfull in a Normandy landing Houston we have a problem kind of way. You and I aren’t trained to kill or build an oxygen release valve out of available components. The only available components we have are our emotions. And , if you don’t know how or when to express those intense feelings of guilt, fear, anger… well, you,re fucked. We’re all fucked. Same old story, ce la vie, que sera sera, plus ca change… nothing new under the sun.
If it is cancer wouldn’t there be other symptoms? Loss of appetite, nausea, bleeding, contutions. Is my tongue feeling funny ‘cos that microwaved chicken chow main… Always trying to read the signs. For best results cook from frozen. Well I’m not very warm so I’ll just get on with it. 850 watts for six minutes. Is this what mobile phones are doing to our heads forming a crust on the grey matter. But nothing ever gets crisp in a microwave exept boild rice. Is that a golden crumb coating you wanted on your left temporal lobe? Ahh, lovely fags!
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What would the son do without the brother? There’s a tingling numbness down the right side of my throat. Starting just below the ear and extending to my adams apple. Some times my tongue and lips tingle again with the buzzing. It gets worse when I smoke. But now I realise its not so much a buzzing as a hiss, or has it just changed as my mind wandered off. Now the light is closer in fact here it is, lamplight through the window.
The back of a house at the end of a long garden so cultivated that the comparison with where I’ve just come from jars for a moment and I cant quite.
The window is open letting the white noise of full volume TV static out into the night. Which by now is definitely what surrounds us. Pink noise white noise the sound of stars. Background microwave radiation from the begining of cosmological time. It’s a hiss and a buzz. Cosmological space time. Greater even than geological time which were just not wired correctly to conceptualise in our measurings of lifes mere decades.
Now the smell is even stronger. Burnt tin. Over charged flex. Twin and earth dessicated.
Seared bakelite. Back electro motive force, out of its cage. I’m tired and cold and wet and hungry and I want to go home. But that’s just my usual state of mind. This is something else, something.
That’s really when the panic attacks started in earnest. Not immediately after the old mans G3 but close enough for me to feel his fear irradiating me. After they moved to Bristol. After the bypass operation and his fear sharpend. Doubtless distressing. But traumatic also for those around him. Not stressfull in a Normandy landing Houston we have a problem kind of way. You and I aren’t trained to kill or build an oxygen release valve out of available components. The only available components we have are our emotions. And , if you don’t know how or when to express those intense feelings of guilt, fear, anger… well, you,re fucked. We’re all fucked. Same old story, ce la vie, que sera sera, plus ca change… nothing new under the sun.
If it is cancer wouldn’t there be other symptoms? Loss of appetite, nausea, bleeding, contutions. Is my tongue feeling funny ‘cos that microwaved chicken chow main…
Always trying to read the signs. For best results cook from frozen. Well I’m not very warm so I’ll just get on with it. 850 watts for six minutes. Is this what mobile phones are doing to our heads forming a crust on the grey matter. But nothing ever gets crisp in a microwave exept boild rice. Is that a golden crumb coating you wanted on your left temporal lobe?
Ahh, lovely fags!
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