I look up into the partially clouded sun...and temporarily blind myself.
I squint and look away.
There’s a slight chill in the air and the nights are slowly starting to draw in. There's most definitely been a taste of autumn approaching recently. You can see it in the trees and feel it underfoot. My summer of fun, experiences, big words and young thoughts has well and truly passed.
I glance down at the holdall which sits on the bench beside me, and then I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
You gotta love life really? The little things and the big words?
Gotta love the good people that life throws against us?
You gotta love the bad people that life throws at us to!
When I say love, I don't mean really love the bad people of course! I don't think that I'll ever be that forgiving! I mean love the fact that we take stuff from having known them, and hopefully make ourselves a better human being?
Naturally though, I'd rather meet good people who can add to me all the time, but life doesn't go like that, does it? I'll start with the little things and take it from there. I just want to be able to appreciate and feel grateful! I just want to be around people who add to me and who inspire me. Is that too much to ask?!
Maybe I'll go home later and call a friend? Talk some shit and earn some cheap laughs? Could rent a out a video, get a pizza, the little things for a little smile? Watch a trashy soap opera, roll a smoke, have no fear, pour a beer.
As long as I can see the sunset and the moonrise above me, there still has to be dreams.
As long as I’ve the love of family and friends I can still live in hope. I’m not bad, not a bad person I don’t think? Everyone’s mixed up a little bit aren't they?
Everyone’s got problems; you don’t know you’re up unless you’ve been so far down, etc etc. As long as I can fill me stomach with chocolate or enjoy a cold beer, my eyes can still shine.
Listening to me friends and stupidly attempting to make them laugh when they're down!
Putting on my favourite music, watching a classic film at Christmas? A simple pleasure as a muffin gets stuck in me hungover gob - licking the warm butter off a corn on the cob?
It’s the little things that have got to come together to form the bigger picture? Don’t get me wrong, life’s a big thing - a quite big deal in fact, but it’s made of little things - little things that make everyday worthwhile? And some of those little things are held within the eyes and words of people everywhere.
If I can smile for twenty minutes out of twenty-four hours, that can’t be bad? Even if it is only at meself, so I'll try so hard to find the enjoyment in the small things!
To hell with the movie stars, the pop stars and the politicians! The real stars are the people who get you through the reality of the day! Your family, your friends? Even your friendly local bar person! And nature and all it's unpredictability is pretty cool to!
You tell me what’s better than having someone look you in the eye who really loves you though - somebody who adds - somebody who inspires - somebody who pulls out the parts in your heart that others just don't have the connection, strength or vision to do?
I’ve had bad months in the past, and have to admit that it has being quite mad lately! But these have just been stories and incidents really, and I guess that they serve further to form me and to shape me?
And, I’ll have more in the future, that’s life, and I’ve just got to get on and deal with it. I'll make my own stories, people like me have to, people like me just do. It’s what makes us stupidly unique; it’s what makes us capable of loving?
I just don't want to become annoying! Like those stupid shits who shout total nonsense outside houses late at night when the pub has closed! Some people speak because their missing something inside? I just want to speak when I've got something to say.
Life begins and ends when I say so. It’s my choice, my heart, my soul, my mind and I see it all through my eyes only. I write the beginning, the middle and the end.
I open my eyes to see Mrs Marr standing in front of me.
"Hello Mrs Marr", I say. "You're looking well love. How’s things?"
"Can't complain Green, can't complain. Gotta say though love, you're still looking shit!"
I can't help but laugh! "Yeah, I know! But things are looking up. Haven't seen you in a while. What you been up to then?"
"Not to much love, I've met a nice fella from down the bingo though. No funny business mind! We watch old films together and drink tea. I let him bring round the custard creams though!"
I'm genuinely happy for her. "That’s really great news Mrs Marr. I'm really happy for you love".
Mrs Marr looks happy. "Yeah, well, the company is good. You know what I mean?"
I nod me head and stare into the weak sun. "I do Mrs Marr....I do. But don't you go forgetting me! If you ever need any help with anything, you know where I am, so just ask, OK?"
"I will of course Green, and thank you. Just thought I'd take a walk through the park to get some air. Then I'm off home to sort my winter clothes out. You can sense it coming can't you?"
"You certainly can".
Mrs Marr then notices the holdall on the bench beside me. "Call me a nosy old bat! But what you got in the bag then Green?"
"Mrs Marr!" I say with sheer extravagance. "You nosey old bat! You do know that I like me privacy!"
And the old lady laughs happily as she walks away. "I know you do love, and good on you!"
It’s a lovely day, the kind of day when you need to stretch your legs, reach out, walk out and kiss the sky.
And so I do.
I take me walk further through the park. I walk for what seems like hours and for the first time in so long, my mind becomes clear. It’s all so simple, so easy and free. I wander and watch nature, walk and wail. Like the greenery, I to await some kind of saturation and closure? Maybe I just want to be reborn as a demented squirrel, swinging in the trees and playing with me nuts all day?!
I often wish I was a superman, heroic and battling the forces of evil to! Yet I’m more a warped peter pan! Stuck in a tree house, a leaf covering my private parts like some disturbed, illiterate caveman trying to reach out to the stars...
I pass by a large triangular and newly dug up space of earth. A large home for flowers within this particular park. The local council gardeners are preparing the winter bedding. Pansy's and viola's are the order of the month. The colour and smell captures me nose and drags me away. The gardeners are standing around, leaning on spades and smoking!
Looks like an easy job. I think.
I then find myself standing beside the canal. I’m looking in whilst looking out. I’ve followed a path that runs alongside this watery haven; it’s overgrown in places with weeds and trees, nettles fighting for dominance whilst brambles strangle the life out of the small pockets of colour. I feel like I need to contemplate the mysteries of the universe, but manage to change me mind, there’s no need for that now, it’s a nice day after all. Passers-by give me a wide birth. I don’t look right, don’t look together.
I wonder if it was possible to change the future, would I do it? Rewrite history and all that? I'm not sure really? We learn so much from sorting out our own clutter and warped experiences, don't we?
Could go back and kiss that girl?
Somebody once said that the grass is always greener on the other side?
Now....what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Seriously? What?
I hear the sounds of crows gathering overhead. I look up to see a swarm of the feathered creatures swooping towards a nearby oak tree. It’s true nature in all its glory, all the beauty and colour of life silhouetted in the blue, September sky above me. I put my holdall down onto the path which runs alongside the canal, and pull back the zip.
My typewriter looks back at me.
49 Rusty nails which have the power to both infect and to heal.
It’s time to let go though. Some words symbolise things, and my words symbolise something which I just don't understand anymore. Everything I go through - every little story - stays in me head, I have no need to write it down anymore? No need to run a commentary on me own life? I'm not a curious tourist or nosey voyeur inside here, I'm bleedin' living it!
I attempt to think of all the words that I've wrote over the past few months since I blew the dust off this thing, and I momentarily wonder if there's any kind of rhyme or reason, within them or around them?
I wonder if they could ever be pieced together. What the hell could the headlines read upon its release to a bewildered public?!
A wondrous journey into a strange world! I didn't understand a word of it, and neither will you!
The Daily Mail.
Greenfingers in sex expose shocker! He gave birth to an alien word!
The Star.
Greenfingers gives us a tour of his home, and it's unbelievably clean!
OK magazine.
I'm expecting to watch the typewriter sink beneath the murky water. Expecting to salute all captain like, as this wordy vessel sinks to the bottom of it's new West London resting place.
But it doesn't!
The typewriter has taken refuge on a small floating island of wood and other assorted floating crap!
I can't get rid of me words! Even when I try! Fuck it!
If I leave it here, it might stay there for years?! Become some sort of shrine to the local pissed-up kids?!
The homeless, whores, junkies and simply fucked-up might gather around it? They might even light candles?! Actually, I'd kinda like that! Hang on! It would become covered in bird-shit and dirty mags as well - I'd see it every time that I walk by here - I can't have that?!
I can clearly see the keys looking at me! Maybe I can force it under the water by way of some positive thought?! Breathe in the negativity and exhale the positivity....and all that bollocks!
I look behind me, inside the undergrowth, and search for a large stick or something. All I find is the remains of a burnt out scooter and some discarded condoms.
Shit!
And then I look up at one of the conifers.
"Sorry mate. This might hurt a bit!"
I snap off a long and skinny branch and then turn back towards the canal.
Maybe this is a sign - a sign from somebody or something - I don't know? I'll bring it back, bring the typewriter back and think about this little act over again shall I? Is attempting to drown words an act of mercy or some sort of verbal, brutal slaying?!
I push the stick further out into the water. I think I've touched a key? I reach further out. I've hooked the branch onto something! I think I've got it!
I pull gently...
It's moving....and then it sticks!
I lean out further and tug again.
I pull at the words and try to draw the keys towards me...
I'm losing me balance!
I feel the earth slide out from beneath me.
I see the blue sky.
I hear the children playing in the distance.
I hear gentle laughter from the walking lovers.
I hit the water and I’m heading under.
Out Into the Colours
Engulfed,
Swept away,
Slipping,
Liquid everywhere, I'm surrounded, filling every smile in my tired eyes.
Cold, cold water lapping at me face, it's like thick, dark chocolate filling me pores.
And then I see it! A light!
A strange, almost unearthly light coming through the water towards me!
It pushes towards me, spinning like a carton star and it’s beautiful!
So what the fuck am I supposed to do now then?!
And as it moves even closer, I realize that it's not a star, but is in fact the hub-cap from a long dead car!
It strikes me full in the face...
I open me eyes almost immediately and I'm looking up at a small white light - literally a small white light in the form of a swinging light-bulb.
I'm sitting on the floor of a toilet!
A bleedin' toilet!
It's cramped and it’s almost a cube....it’s a pub toilet cubicle!
I look down to see green moss clinging to my black shirt. "What the fuck!"
Now........... this is all a bit weird?!
I get up off the floor and then exit the cubicle to find meself near some sinks and a mirror. The toilet mirror has one large crack in the top right hand corner that gives me reflection a kind of broken and almost eerie appearance! I really don't need this right now!
I don't know this toilet at all though. It certainly doesn't look familiar, and I have on so many occasions looked at the bright Armitage Shanks porcelain when spilling out after another empty night! I've gotta get outta here, this can't be right. Where the fuck is the canal....and where the hell is me typewriter?!
There's a door to somewhere else - I open it.
Some bar I haven't seen before awaits me on the other side - old looking and nothing fancy. In fact it completely flies in convention with the new themed sports bars that are popping up all over London right now. This pub has cosy corners and it’s all wood interior carries a musty theme. No chrome and no neon to distract from some serious drinking and proper conversation. Some people are at the bar.
A quite good looking bar lady, dressed in bright leopard skin attire is looking at me. She sees me and smiles then taps the arm of some bloke that is sitting at the bar on a stool.
The bloke turns around and looks at me, he smiles as well. Some old looking geezer? Maybe in his forty's and all dressed in black. I watch as his hand moves towards the raised bar-seat beside him. The bloke in black pats a rather lean looking dog on its smiling head - now I'm no expert in canine companions, but that dog looks like a whippet to me?
I walk towards this man woman and dog!
For some unknown reason, I head towards the dog first. He instantly stands up and licks at me face. Then he jumps up, both paws slapping me wet face cheeks. A stray claw scratches me on the side of the face and I smile. I can't help noticing that the whippet seems to have a ruffled streak of hair on his head. A bit like a mohican. A whippet with a mohican?! You couldn't make these things up, could you?
"He's a lovely dog!" I say.
"Yeah, he's a friendly soul alright. But don't feel to full of yourself, he likes everyone!"
Says the bloke in black.
The bar lady, a quite attractive woman indeed, gives me a smile and a wink.
“And what can I do for you then Greenie?”
Now of course I’m taken back. I just got here, wherever here is, and she knows me name!
“I’ll have a pint of snakebite please love. And how do you know me name anyway?”
“Oh I know everybody’s name love! And I know everybody’s story to! I also knew that you were going to ask for that drink! Buts its always polite to ask.”
The bloke in black lights up a cigarette and holds out his hand. I hold out mine and we shake hands and make contact. I feel a calming numbness spread through me body.
"So how you doing mate?" He asks me quite calmly. "Please, sit down".
I plonk me tired bum onto a stool. "I'm a bit confused to be honest! I throw me typewriter in the canal. Try and get it out, fall in....turn into a fuckin' cartoon....and now I'm in a pub with two people and a dog!"
The bloke in black sups on his beer and laughs. "Ahhh, come on! It’s a story...and you like stories, don't you?"
"Yeah, well yeah...but I like to be in control to!"
"Control is overrated mate! Fuck that! Especially control in writing! That just implies that you give a shit about what other people think? Write for yourself - no barriers and no limits - that way you'll never feel guilty! Life is tough enough as it is - there still has to be some kind of freedom somewhere or what's the point? I don't dumb down to anybody mate. As the future changes, the sad reality is that being stupid will become the norm. Free-thinkers and an opinion that isn't shared by the brainwashed masses will almost be considered the act of a mad person!"
"Sounds weird!" I say.
"It can be," he replies. "You just have to stay real when the world becomes a cartoon!"
I nod me head. He's kind of right, I guess?
The bar lady puts me pint in front of me, and I neck half of it down in one go! All this possible afterlife stuff is thirsty business! I look down onto the bar. The bloke in black has some strange looking typewriter in front of him! "What the hell is that mate?!" I ask.
"It’s what I write on Green, how I tell true stories. Obviously with names changed to protect the innocent, guilty and accused! You see mate. The thing about writing a story, be it fact or fiction, truth or dare, is that you can always alter the ending slightly. Simply because everyone has a different way of seeing things! But don't fret, you ain't no Dorothy and I'm no wizard of Oz! I don't like writing about the past at all, but sometimes I do...when it's a good story that might just mean something to me alone!"
Fuck this! I'm confused! "So, I'm not dead then?"
The bloke laughs. "Noooo, you're not dead! I just brought you here to say hello. It's nice to be nice".
I exhale deeply. "Can I have a cigarette please?"
"Sure".
This bloke gives me a cigarette; I light it quickly and drag on it. Now, I've being through quite a lot over the past few months, you should know?! So whatever this, wherever I am.........well I can't be that startled can I?
"So are you always in here then?" I ask.
The bloke then scratches his dog - that part of a dogs body, just at the base of it's back whereby they quickly lick the air uncontrollably in delight (and this whippet does!) then he winks and smiles at the bar lady.
"Yeah, sort of - it's me, my dog and this lovely bar lady! It’s just us, writing and listening to music.”
“Sounds a bit lonely?" I say.
"We'll you'd know all about that wouldn't you?" Says this bloke, looking kind of serious. "Besides, with words, you're never really alone are you? I think you might have wrote that yourself?!"
I think I did? Did I?!
"So you're quite a bit like me then aren't you?" I ask.
The bloke shakes his head and then looks over at the barmaid; they both share some kind of secret smile! And then the dog starts barking! A whippets howl fills the air. What the fuck! And then the bloke leans towards me and speaks directly into me eyes -
"Listen mate. I’m not like you; I'm not even on the same page, although I am still full of thoughts and a little bit of rage. If you just want what's on the surface when there's nothing underneath? You sometimes have to take all that pain, and to yourself be some kind of emotional thief? You see, I’m not like you and I’m not a cartoon or a clone, you make your own way forward and you find your own way home".
And then he leans back on his stool, all casual like. I don't know what to say. But I think I get it.
"Will I see you again?" I finally ask.
"Most definitely. But you won't know me! You won't even remember this!"
"Fuckin' hell mate! That's a bit cryptic!"
The geezer in black laughs. "It's all about knowing what we've come through mate? Learning from our experiences and ever-changing state of mind! We should never forget some of the stories that form or shape us. We change, everyone can and everyone does! Everyone has got a story and you're always with me and inside me".
I nod me head, I'm sure I've met this bloke before somewhere?
"So how’s this story gonna end then?" I ask.
The bloke drags on his cigarette then pats his dog on the head.
"Well.....I'll put something on the jukebox, finish up my drink and I'll see!"
"And what about you then? What are you up to?"
"My dog and I have a long road ahead of us. Just the two of us with the help of my lovely barmaid, of course! This is my last story for a while, the one that I'm working on right now that is. And while not every story deserves a happy ending, writing gives you the power to change things. Sometimes, even the past - you know that?"
I nod me head in some kind of agreement as the bar lady places her quite exquisite breasts down onto the bar in front of me!
“I might see you again Greenie", she says. "But please let somebody else do the worrying for a while. Just take care of yourself and keep your eye on the moon and you'll be alright...OK?!”
Shit! There's a tear in me eye!
I watch as this bloke’s finger hovers over some key on his elaborate typewriter!
"What are you gonna press now?" I ask.
"Just this little one called return". He answers.
I smile at him and he smiles at me. The bar lady smiles at me.... and the whippet barks.....
The hub-cap seems to have hit me full in the face then swam on by.
And there's a hand!
There's a hand reaching down through the water! I reach up and grab then lift meself up through the water. Sunlight glares into me eyes as the shadow of a figure looks down on me. I shake myself from the blindness of the sun.
And the face in the shadow becomes clear...
Those eyes...
That smile...
She's shouting something at me!
"Stand up!"
"Stand up?!" I shout back.
"Yes! Stand up!"
I stretch me legs out beneath me and realize that me feet hit the ground straight away!
"I think you can get out of there now don't you!"
I then realize that from a fully standing position, the water only reaches the height of me nipples!
"What the hell is your typewriter doing out there?! Grab it!" Shouts a laughing Christine!
I turn around and lift me typewriter from its temporary island before moving through the water and placing it on the path. Unlike meself, it's as dry as an extremely dry bone!
"Don't let go of my hand though!" I shout back.
"I won't!" Says Christine, trying vainly to hold back some kind of mad hysteria!
I hold onto Christine's hand until I'm up over the edge of the canal wall. I don't want to let go, but no that if I don't, I'll probably pull her in with me!
Once in a standing position, I look down at me soaked body and can't help but join Christine in some full belly laughs! "So you saw me fall in then?" I finally ask.
"Sure did", Says Christine. "Was walking down the path and I saw you go straight in!"
"How long was I in the water for?"
"No more than ten seconds! Until I stuck my hand in". She says.
"Really?" Reply I, surprised. "Felt like longer! Think I had a weird dream to? I'm sure I was a cartoon!"
Christine starts laughing again. “Believe me Green. You're real!"
I pull some slime from me hair. I feel like such an idiot! Look at the state of me! How can I hold any kind of conversation together when I look like this?! I try to compose meself and to say something vaguely normal! "So what were you doing down this way then? Didn't know that you came to this park?"
Christine looks only momentarily thoughtful as she holds back some laughs. The sight of me right now would be enough to make anybody laugh!
"I was out walking with Darren. Just over there near the bottom of the hill. We had a bit of a row and I was on my way home. Then I saw you fall in! The perfect antidote!"
"You had a row?" I say in my most concerned voice. "Everything OK now then?"
Christine flicks some green looking goo from off of me chest. "Totally! Me and him are over! It was coming really. We didn't have much in common anyway. Watching soap operas and a bit of company, but that's that. Total idiot with nothing to say when I got to know him! You might sometimes make no sense, but I should have listened to you a few weeks ago Mr Green!"
I want to look smug but know that I shouldn't. Besides, I can't really - not looking like this!
"That's too bad Christine. You deserve so much". Is all I manage?
She looks touched, she looks happy! "We'll see! Anyway, how come you didn't reply to any of my messages that I left on your phone?"
"I've being writing a lot lately Christine. But that's it for a while now. I've had enough!"
"Really?"
"Oh yeah! I'll leave the writing to somebody else for a change!"
This girl clad in black looks down at me typewriter. "Something strange and symbolic taking place here was there?!"
Shit! I'm embarrassed! I don't really know what to say....tell the truth mate....do it!
"Yeah pet, that's exactly what it was!"
Christine laughs again. "Let’s get you home eh? You've just got to get some dry clothes on! We'll stick on some music and we'll have something to eat, yeah?"
"And a nice little drink?! I reply.
"Of course!" Says Christine.
"I want to bring you somewhere first though, it's not to far, just a couple of minutes away?"
"Sure, as long as it's got nothing to do with water!"
I place me typewriter into my holdall and look up at Christine. "Noooo! It's got nothing to do with water! It's just nice, that's all. I just want to remember all this because you rarely get second chances to make a good first impression!"
"OK Green, are you sure you can make though?" Says Christine, slightly laughing!
"Of course I can! But take me hand though OK? I'm a little bit wet pet and I don't want to slip again!"
Christine smiles, puts out her hand and I take it. We then start to walk up the path towards the top of the hill that takes prime position within this West London park.
"It’s a lovely view". Says Christine.
"It’s even better if you stand on this bench?"
I step up onto the bench and Christine follows me. We look out over West London and my heart and soul disappear as I feel Christine once more lock her hand around mine.
Us lapsed catholic surely have a flair for the dramatic don't we?!
But we all need a little bit of magic in our life's at times though don't we?
We all need some unexplainable story and some unexplainable intervention to step in and take us down an unfamiliar path? Maybe life is all about first chances, second chances and third chances? Maybe it’s just about making up for the bad times?
I dunno! Perhaps some of the biggest characters are covered in the biggest scars? Not scars that are still sensitive to a touch or the heat or the cold, but scars, that when a finger runs across them, bring a smile to the owners face?
You see, I don’t want to spend a life wrapped up in trivial pursuits! There really is just a few really important things in life isn’t there, and I hope so much that I've wrote them somewhere within here!
And yet, I know I’ve got a lot to learn, and maybe one day…I’ll write about that to?
I make mistakes and I'm still learning! I might often become someone that I don't like and have to change at times?!
I might say things that I regret?
A hard lesson to learn is that sometimes you can only really appreciate something, when you live a life without it? And whilst I may often feel like drowned trash - I hope to fuck that I realise pretty quickly when I'm walking on the wrong path? Something's just have to feel right and just have to lift your spirits don't they. Like people who listen and like words can, yeah?
To cut a long story short (kind of!) there’s no short-cuts on this path is there? You can't try and avoid the inevitable for too long?
Sometimes we might think that we're happy and right - when we're obviously not! Simply because we might not expect anything more from ourselves? And to be honest, I'm not a serious man and I don't ever want to be! Some people make everything so complicated and have to draw it all out?! Be it with their own use of clichéd words, the broken look in their tired eyes or the stance in their stubborn pose.
I just don't want that to be me - silly laughs, a dash of passion and maybe a silly face will often be the dish of the day to pull me through... I hope?!
Faith? Belief? I don't know? But imagination....yeah! That'll do for now!
I certainly don’t have all the answers and certainly don’t know all the questions!
I suppose that when it all comes down to it, I’m like this massive shattered jigsaw?!
There’s pieces of me scattered to the four corners of the earth and I’ll never be complete until I get up, get in tune, start looking and find them? I’m sure that love is within one of those pieces, love for meself is one and love for others is another one?
It can never be to much too love and learn with the ones that I'm with...
And those pieces are out there, inside the colours and outside my mind.
Thing is, I don’t know if I can start travelling to find any new pieces in the near future, at least not this year anyway; there’s no way that I can afford the fare after all the money I’ve spent over the past few months!
And now I've hopefully written something real and raw?
Thankfully, my expanding trail of wordy thought is broken by Christine tugging on me hand and pointing out over the park with her free one. "Hey Green. Do you know that bloke down there?"
"Who? Where?" I say.
"Over there", says Christine still pointing. "There's some bloke over there with a dog waving at you".
I follow Christine's gaze, and she's right! Over to the side of the park, where a large section of trees form the shape of a green circle, some bloke is indeed looking up the hill towards me and waving.
A dog is spinning at speed in the grass beside him.
"Oh yeah! I don't know him or his dog though!"
"Maybe you do?" Says Christine. "Wave back anyway Green! Go on! If it was you down there, wouldn't you like it?"
She's right!
I wave back at the man and his dog, and the second I do so, the man in black stops waving and gives me a thumbs up!
I can then hear the barking of his spinning dog carry across the breeze towards me. The dog then charges off into the trees and the man follows behind him, throwing me one last glance before he to disappears into the undergrowth.
"Weird!" I say out loud.
I then notice that Christine isn't holding me hand. She's stepped down off the bench and is looking down towards the trees.
"Maybe?" Says Christine, "But some things don't have to be explained do they?"
"I guess not". I say, looking down from the bench at her and smiling. I step off from the bench and stand beside her. She laughs again. "You are almost green you know?!"
"I know! I know!"
She's got something in one of her hands.
"What's in your hand?" I ask.
Christine looks me in the eyes and beams brightly. "It was the only one left in the grass - maybe the last one before autumn - before the frost sets in?"
She holds up her hand and opens it; and in her palm is a wild daisy.
Just words, eh?!
I squint and look away.
There’s a slight chill in the air and the nights are slowly starting to draw in. There's most definitely been a taste of autumn approaching recently. You can see it in the trees and feel it underfoot. My summer of fun, experiences, big words and young thoughts has well and truly passed.
I glance down at the holdall which sits on the bench beside me, and then I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
You gotta love life really? The little things and the big words?
Gotta love the good people that life throws against us?
You gotta love the bad people that life throws at us to!
When I say love, I don't mean really love the bad people of course! I don't think that I'll ever be that forgiving! I mean love the fact that we take stuff from having known them, and hopefully make ourselves a better human being?
Naturally though, I'd rather meet good people who can add to me all the time, but life doesn't go like that, does it? I'll start with the little things and take it from there. I just want to be able to appreciate and feel grateful! I just want to be around people who add to me and who inspire me. Is that too much to ask?!
Maybe I'll go home later and call a friend? Talk some shit and earn some cheap laughs? Could rent a out a video, get a pizza, the little things for a little smile? Watch a trashy soap opera, roll a smoke, have no fear, pour a beer.
As long as I can see the sunset and the moonrise above me, there still has to be dreams.
As long as I’ve the love of family and friends I can still live in hope. I’m not bad, not a bad person I don’t think? Everyone’s mixed up a little bit aren't they?
Everyone’s got problems; you don’t know you’re up unless you’ve been so far down, etc etc. As long as I can fill me stomach with chocolate or enjoy a cold beer, my eyes can still shine.
Listening to me friends and stupidly attempting to make them laugh when they're down!
Putting on my favourite music, watching a classic film at Christmas? A simple pleasure as a muffin gets stuck in me hungover gob - licking the warm butter off a corn on the cob?
It’s the little things that have got to come together to form the bigger picture? Don’t get me wrong, life’s a big thing - a quite big deal in fact, but it’s made of little things - little things that make everyday worthwhile? And some of those little things are held within the eyes and words of people everywhere.
If I can smile for twenty minutes out of twenty-four hours, that can’t be bad? Even if it is only at meself, so I'll try so hard to find the enjoyment in the small things!
To hell with the movie stars, the pop stars and the politicians! The real stars are the people who get you through the reality of the day! Your family, your friends? Even your friendly local bar person! And nature and all it's unpredictability is pretty cool to!
You tell me what’s better than having someone look you in the eye who really loves you though - somebody who adds - somebody who inspires - somebody who pulls out the parts in your heart that others just don't have the connection, strength or vision to do?
I’ve had bad months in the past, and have to admit that it has being quite mad lately! But these have just been stories and incidents really, and I guess that they serve further to form me and to shape me?
And, I’ll have more in the future, that’s life, and I’ve just got to get on and deal with it. I'll make my own stories, people like me have to, people like me just do. It’s what makes us stupidly unique; it’s what makes us capable of loving?
I just don't want to become annoying! Like those stupid shits who shout total nonsense outside houses late at night when the pub has closed! Some people speak because their missing something inside? I just want to speak when I've got something to say.
Life begins and ends when I say so. It’s my choice, my heart, my soul, my mind and I see it all through my eyes only. I write the beginning, the middle and the end.
And as the years float by and as I look back through the haze,
I'll take a minute out to grab a smile, and to refocus my gaze.
There are good days and there are bad,
Days when you want to pull out your own hair and days when you feel desperate and sad?
Maybe days when you want to throw up into the lap of indecision,
Take it on the chin, roll with it and dust yourself down for some harsh revisions?
But am I a work in progress?
An unfinished essay or a join of the dots?
A tangled rope fraying at the knots?
But I know I’m not a flight of fancy,
And I'm not a lid that doesn’t fit,
And I’m not the kind of man who’ll take your lies or your fake bullshit.
And you’d be so wrong for thinking that I’m complicated and that I'm deep,
Don't go mixing up passion with someone who doesn't want to be a painted sheep.
Because I’m just an average guy, who doesn't like the pomp or the pretence,
The going with the flow or sitting on the fence.
But I can be in your face or inside your heart,
And I can be by your side, at the end or from the start?
I've got a part-time pornographic soul,
And I've got sheer optimism splashing from my breakfast bowl.
I'm a born again cynic who can't be caught up in a brainwashed herd,
Dressed from head to toe in the remains of my own dirty and misspelt big words.
I might spend time trying to bury some new hatchets,
Spend some time trying to grow old with grace,
But I never want to be the man who has no heart,
No soul,
No words,
No face.
"Green! Green! Are you dead love?!"
"Hello Mrs Marr", I say. "You're looking well love. How’s things?"
"Can't complain Green, can't complain. Gotta say though love, you're still looking shit!"
I can't help but laugh! "Yeah, I know! But things are looking up. Haven't seen you in a while. What you been up to then?"
"Not to much love, I've met a nice fella from down the bingo though. No funny business mind! We watch old films together and drink tea. I let him bring round the custard creams though!"
I'm genuinely happy for her. "That’s really great news Mrs Marr. I'm really happy for you love".
Mrs Marr looks happy. "Yeah, well, the company is good. You know what I mean?"
I nod me head and stare into the weak sun. "I do Mrs Marr....I do. But don't you go forgetting me! If you ever need any help with anything, you know where I am, so just ask, OK?"
"I will of course Green, and thank you. Just thought I'd take a walk through the park to get some air. Then I'm off home to sort my winter clothes out. You can sense it coming can't you?"
"You certainly can".
Mrs Marr then notices the holdall on the bench beside me. "Call me a nosy old bat! But what you got in the bag then Green?"
"Mrs Marr!" I say with sheer extravagance. "You nosey old bat! You do know that I like me privacy!"
And the old lady laughs happily as she walks away. "I know you do love, and good on you!"
~
It’s a lovely day, the kind of day when you need to stretch your legs, reach out, walk out and kiss the sky.
And so I do.
I take me walk further through the park. I walk for what seems like hours and for the first time in so long, my mind becomes clear. It’s all so simple, so easy and free. I wander and watch nature, walk and wail. Like the greenery, I to await some kind of saturation and closure? Maybe I just want to be reborn as a demented squirrel, swinging in the trees and playing with me nuts all day?!
I often wish I was a superman, heroic and battling the forces of evil to! Yet I’m more a warped peter pan! Stuck in a tree house, a leaf covering my private parts like some disturbed, illiterate caveman trying to reach out to the stars...
I pass by a large triangular and newly dug up space of earth. A large home for flowers within this particular park. The local council gardeners are preparing the winter bedding. Pansy's and viola's are the order of the month. The colour and smell captures me nose and drags me away. The gardeners are standing around, leaning on spades and smoking!
Looks like an easy job. I think.
I then find myself standing beside the canal. I’m looking in whilst looking out. I’ve followed a path that runs alongside this watery haven; it’s overgrown in places with weeds and trees, nettles fighting for dominance whilst brambles strangle the life out of the small pockets of colour. I feel like I need to contemplate the mysteries of the universe, but manage to change me mind, there’s no need for that now, it’s a nice day after all. Passers-by give me a wide birth. I don’t look right, don’t look together.
I wonder if it was possible to change the future, would I do it? Rewrite history and all that? I'm not sure really? We learn so much from sorting out our own clutter and warped experiences, don't we?
Could go back and kill Hitler?
Live like a king?
Take piano lessons at School?
Maybe learn how to sing?
Could go back and kiss that girl?
Change my story and change my world?
Say that I was sorry, say that I could change?
Say fuck off to the unbelievers and take pride in being called strange?Somebody once said that the grass is always greener on the other side?
Now....what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Seriously? What?
I hear the sounds of crows gathering overhead. I look up to see a swarm of the feathered creatures swooping towards a nearby oak tree. It’s true nature in all its glory, all the beauty and colour of life silhouetted in the blue, September sky above me. I put my holdall down onto the path which runs alongside the canal, and pull back the zip.
My typewriter looks back at me.
49 Rusty nails which have the power to both infect and to heal.
It’s time to let go though. Some words symbolise things, and my words symbolise something which I just don't understand anymore. Everything I go through - every little story - stays in me head, I have no need to write it down anymore? No need to run a commentary on me own life? I'm not a curious tourist or nosey voyeur inside here, I'm bleedin' living it!
I attempt to think of all the words that I've wrote over the past few months since I blew the dust off this thing, and I momentarily wonder if there's any kind of rhyme or reason, within them or around them?
I wonder if they could ever be pieced together. What the hell could the headlines read upon its release to a bewildered public?!
A wondrous journey into a strange world! I didn't understand a word of it, and neither will you!
The Daily Mail.
Just three words to describe all this: What the fuck!
The Chicago Tribune.
Greenfingers in sex expose shocker! He gave birth to an alien word!
The Star.
Greenfingers bites off more green rock than he can chew. Can he still be hungry?
The Daily Planet.
Greenfingers gives us a tour of his home, and it's unbelievably clean!
OK magazine.
Local illiterate boy name drops and falls over the edge.
The Ealing Gazette.
Thankfully... Greenfingers has got great tits! Phwoar!
The Sun.
I throw my arms back, and then throw the typewriter towards the centre of the canal. My eyes momentarily closed as me brain fills with words -I don't fake it,
Sometimes, can barely make it.
A generation shot down but some hearts out there that shine?
A generation shot down but some hearts out there that shine?
Having a revolution in your soul can never be a crime?
I'd like to think that I'm full of substance, but maybe I'm not here at all?
I'm never gonna write empty words to feed some ego or some desperate call.
I don't give a fuck if nobody gets me,
Don't give a fuck if nobody cares.
So you can put away those brainwashed points and those dagger stares.
Something new to turn me on?
Something worth the effort that won't go wrong?
Two sides to every story?
Just don't be a fake and please don't bore me.
Aborted sequences take flight you see?
And not everyone is climbing the same tree?
And I don't need any more of my own honest propaganda,
Pre-paid words in tokens to fuel my own wordy agenda.
Something new to turn me on?
Something worth the effort that won't go wrong?
Two sides to every story?
Just don't be a fake and please don't bore me.
Aborted sequences take flight you see?
And not everyone is climbing the same tree?
And I don't need any more of my own honest propaganda,
Pre-paid words in tokens to fuel my own wordy agenda.
Relieve some pent-up tension, ease out some loose soul-stripping suspension?
But I confess, I digress, there comes a time when you gotta say no more,
I'm not gonna be some half-baked couch potato,
Not gonna be some writing, stone-faced bore.
Not gonna be some writing, stone-faced bore.
I'm not in yours or anybody's debt,
You gotta love reality; maybe I ain't seen nothing yet?
And if I grow up a little rough and bruised,
At least I’ve experienced and at least I choose.
And I know that I won’t always come up smelling of roses,
Even with all the right smiles and with all the right poses?
I need to detox, relax, undress and wash away the formalities,
I'm not going to be filled with no imagination or with obvious predictability.
And if I grow up a little rough and bruised,
At least I’ve experienced and at least I choose.
And I know that I won’t always come up smelling of roses,
Even with all the right smiles and with all the right poses?
I need to detox, relax, undress and wash away the formalities,
I'm not going to be filled with no imagination or with obvious predictability.
So I can write in metaphors and I can sense a change?
So what!
Because everyone has the ability to slip away quietly or to rearrange?
So what!
Because everyone has the ability to slip away quietly or to rearrange?
Thud!....
little splash!
little splash!
I'm expecting to watch the typewriter sink beneath the murky water. Expecting to salute all captain like, as this wordy vessel sinks to the bottom of it's new West London resting place.
But it doesn't!
The typewriter has taken refuge on a small floating island of wood and other assorted floating crap!
I can't get rid of me words! Even when I try! Fuck it!
If I leave it here, it might stay there for years?! Become some sort of shrine to the local pissed-up kids?!
The homeless, whores, junkies and simply fucked-up might gather around it? They might even light candles?! Actually, I'd kinda like that! Hang on! It would become covered in bird-shit and dirty mags as well - I'd see it every time that I walk by here - I can't have that?!
I can clearly see the keys looking at me! Maybe I can force it under the water by way of some positive thought?! Breathe in the negativity and exhale the positivity....and all that bollocks!
A is for attitude...
C is for complicity....
B is for........bollocks!
SHIT! I can't do this: I'd be here all day?!I look behind me, inside the undergrowth, and search for a large stick or something. All I find is the remains of a burnt out scooter and some discarded condoms.
Shit!
And then I look up at one of the conifers.
"Sorry mate. This might hurt a bit!"
I snap off a long and skinny branch and then turn back towards the canal.
Maybe this is a sign - a sign from somebody or something - I don't know? I'll bring it back, bring the typewriter back and think about this little act over again shall I? Is attempting to drown words an act of mercy or some sort of verbal, brutal slaying?!
I push the stick further out into the water. I think I've touched a key? I reach further out. I've hooked the branch onto something! I think I've got it!
I pull gently...
It's moving....and then it sticks!
I lean out further and tug again.
I pull at the words and try to draw the keys towards me...
I'm losing me balance!
I feel the earth slide out from beneath me.
I see the blue sky.
I hear the children playing in the distance.
I hear gentle laughter from the walking lovers.
I hit the water and I’m heading under.
Out Into the Colours
Engulfed,
Swept away,
Slipping,
Liquid everywhere, I'm surrounded, filling every smile in my tired eyes.
Cold, cold water lapping at me face, it's like thick, dark chocolate filling me pores.
falling
back
in
falling
back
down
falling
back
in
falling
back
out
And then I see it! A light!
A strange, almost unearthly light coming through the water towards me!
It pushes towards me, spinning like a carton star and it’s beautiful!
So what the fuck am I supposed to do now then?!
And as it moves even closer, I realize that it's not a star, but is in fact the hub-cap from a long dead car!
It strikes me full in the face...
falling
back
in
falling
back
down
I open me eyes almost immediately and I'm looking up at a small white light - literally a small white light in the form of a swinging light-bulb.
I'm sitting on the floor of a toilet!
A bleedin' toilet!
It's cramped and it’s almost a cube....it’s a pub toilet cubicle!
I look down to see green moss clinging to my black shirt. "What the fuck!"
Now........... this is all a bit weird?!
I get up off the floor and then exit the cubicle to find meself near some sinks and a mirror. The toilet mirror has one large crack in the top right hand corner that gives me reflection a kind of broken and almost eerie appearance! I really don't need this right now!
I don't know this toilet at all though. It certainly doesn't look familiar, and I have on so many occasions looked at the bright Armitage Shanks porcelain when spilling out after another empty night! I've gotta get outta here, this can't be right. Where the fuck is the canal....and where the hell is me typewriter?!
There's a door to somewhere else - I open it.
Some bar I haven't seen before awaits me on the other side - old looking and nothing fancy. In fact it completely flies in convention with the new themed sports bars that are popping up all over London right now. This pub has cosy corners and it’s all wood interior carries a musty theme. No chrome and no neon to distract from some serious drinking and proper conversation. Some people are at the bar.
A quite good looking bar lady, dressed in bright leopard skin attire is looking at me. She sees me and smiles then taps the arm of some bloke that is sitting at the bar on a stool.
The bloke turns around and looks at me, he smiles as well. Some old looking geezer? Maybe in his forty's and all dressed in black. I watch as his hand moves towards the raised bar-seat beside him. The bloke in black pats a rather lean looking dog on its smiling head - now I'm no expert in canine companions, but that dog looks like a whippet to me?
~
I walk towards this man woman and dog!
For some unknown reason, I head towards the dog first. He instantly stands up and licks at me face. Then he jumps up, both paws slapping me wet face cheeks. A stray claw scratches me on the side of the face and I smile. I can't help noticing that the whippet seems to have a ruffled streak of hair on his head. A bit like a mohican. A whippet with a mohican?! You couldn't make these things up, could you?
"He's a lovely dog!" I say.
"Yeah, he's a friendly soul alright. But don't feel to full of yourself, he likes everyone!"
Says the bloke in black.
The bar lady, a quite attractive woman indeed, gives me a smile and a wink.
“And what can I do for you then Greenie?”
Now of course I’m taken back. I just got here, wherever here is, and she knows me name!
“I’ll have a pint of snakebite please love. And how do you know me name anyway?”
“Oh I know everybody’s name love! And I know everybody’s story to! I also knew that you were going to ask for that drink! Buts its always polite to ask.”
The bloke in black lights up a cigarette and holds out his hand. I hold out mine and we shake hands and make contact. I feel a calming numbness spread through me body.
"So how you doing mate?" He asks me quite calmly. "Please, sit down".
I plonk me tired bum onto a stool. "I'm a bit confused to be honest! I throw me typewriter in the canal. Try and get it out, fall in....turn into a fuckin' cartoon....and now I'm in a pub with two people and a dog!"
The bloke in black sups on his beer and laughs. "Ahhh, come on! It’s a story...and you like stories, don't you?"
"Yeah, well yeah...but I like to be in control to!"
"Control is overrated mate! Fuck that! Especially control in writing! That just implies that you give a shit about what other people think? Write for yourself - no barriers and no limits - that way you'll never feel guilty! Life is tough enough as it is - there still has to be some kind of freedom somewhere or what's the point? I don't dumb down to anybody mate. As the future changes, the sad reality is that being stupid will become the norm. Free-thinkers and an opinion that isn't shared by the brainwashed masses will almost be considered the act of a mad person!"
"Sounds weird!" I say.
"It can be," he replies. "You just have to stay real when the world becomes a cartoon!"
I nod me head. He's kind of right, I guess?
The bar lady puts me pint in front of me, and I neck half of it down in one go! All this possible afterlife stuff is thirsty business! I look down onto the bar. The bloke in black has some strange looking typewriter in front of him! "What the hell is that mate?!" I ask.
"It’s what I write on Green, how I tell true stories. Obviously with names changed to protect the innocent, guilty and accused! You see mate. The thing about writing a story, be it fact or fiction, truth or dare, is that you can always alter the ending slightly. Simply because everyone has a different way of seeing things! But don't fret, you ain't no Dorothy and I'm no wizard of Oz! I don't like writing about the past at all, but sometimes I do...when it's a good story that might just mean something to me alone!"
Fuck this! I'm confused! "So, I'm not dead then?"
The bloke laughs. "Noooo, you're not dead! I just brought you here to say hello. It's nice to be nice".
I exhale deeply. "Can I have a cigarette please?"
"Sure".
This bloke gives me a cigarette; I light it quickly and drag on it. Now, I've being through quite a lot over the past few months, you should know?! So whatever this, wherever I am.........well I can't be that startled can I?
"So are you always in here then?" I ask.
The bloke then scratches his dog - that part of a dogs body, just at the base of it's back whereby they quickly lick the air uncontrollably in delight (and this whippet does!) then he winks and smiles at the bar lady.
"Yeah, sort of - it's me, my dog and this lovely bar lady! It’s just us, writing and listening to music.”
“Sounds a bit lonely?" I say.
"We'll you'd know all about that wouldn't you?" Says this bloke, looking kind of serious. "Besides, with words, you're never really alone are you? I think you might have wrote that yourself?!"
I think I did? Did I?!
"So you're quite a bit like me then aren't you?" I ask.
The bloke shakes his head and then looks over at the barmaid; they both share some kind of secret smile! And then the dog starts barking! A whippets howl fills the air. What the fuck! And then the bloke leans towards me and speaks directly into me eyes -
"Listen mate. I’m not like you; I'm not even on the same page, although I am still full of thoughts and a little bit of rage. If you just want what's on the surface when there's nothing underneath? You sometimes have to take all that pain, and to yourself be some kind of emotional thief? You see, I’m not like you and I’m not a cartoon or a clone, you make your own way forward and you find your own way home".
And then he leans back on his stool, all casual like. I don't know what to say. But I think I get it.
"Will I see you again?" I finally ask.
"Most definitely. But you won't know me! You won't even remember this!"
"Fuckin' hell mate! That's a bit cryptic!"
The geezer in black laughs. "It's all about knowing what we've come through mate? Learning from our experiences and ever-changing state of mind! We should never forget some of the stories that form or shape us. We change, everyone can and everyone does! Everyone has got a story and you're always with me and inside me".
I nod me head, I'm sure I've met this bloke before somewhere?
"So how’s this story gonna end then?" I ask.
The bloke drags on his cigarette then pats his dog on the head.
"Well.....I'll put something on the jukebox, finish up my drink and I'll see!"
"And what about you then? What are you up to?"
"My dog and I have a long road ahead of us. Just the two of us with the help of my lovely barmaid, of course! This is my last story for a while, the one that I'm working on right now that is. And while not every story deserves a happy ending, writing gives you the power to change things. Sometimes, even the past - you know that?"
I nod me head in some kind of agreement as the bar lady places her quite exquisite breasts down onto the bar in front of me!
“I might see you again Greenie", she says. "But please let somebody else do the worrying for a while. Just take care of yourself and keep your eye on the moon and you'll be alright...OK?!”
Shit! There's a tear in me eye!
I watch as this bloke’s finger hovers over some key on his elaborate typewriter!
"What are you gonna press now?" I ask.
"Just this little one called return". He answers.
I smile at him and he smiles at me. The bar lady smiles at me.... and the whippet barks.....
Falling
back in
falling
back
down
The hub-cap seems to have hit me full in the face then swam on by.
And there's a hand!
There's a hand reaching down through the water! I reach up and grab then lift meself up through the water. Sunlight glares into me eyes as the shadow of a figure looks down on me. I shake myself from the blindness of the sun.
And the face in the shadow becomes clear...
Those eyes...
That smile...
It’s Christine!
She's shouting something at me!
"Stand up!"
"Stand up?!" I shout back.
"Yes! Stand up!"
I stretch me legs out beneath me and realize that me feet hit the ground straight away!
"I think you can get out of there now don't you!"
I then realize that from a fully standing position, the water only reaches the height of me nipples!
"What the hell is your typewriter doing out there?! Grab it!" Shouts a laughing Christine!
I turn around and lift me typewriter from its temporary island before moving through the water and placing it on the path. Unlike meself, it's as dry as an extremely dry bone!
"Don't let go of my hand though!" I shout back.
"I won't!" Says Christine, trying vainly to hold back some kind of mad hysteria!
I hold onto Christine's hand until I'm up over the edge of the canal wall. I don't want to let go, but no that if I don't, I'll probably pull her in with me!
Once in a standing position, I look down at me soaked body and can't help but join Christine in some full belly laughs! "So you saw me fall in then?" I finally ask.
"Sure did", Says Christine. "Was walking down the path and I saw you go straight in!"
"How long was I in the water for?"
"No more than ten seconds! Until I stuck my hand in". She says.
"Really?" Reply I, surprised. "Felt like longer! Think I had a weird dream to? I'm sure I was a cartoon!"
Christine starts laughing again. “Believe me Green. You're real!"
I pull some slime from me hair. I feel like such an idiot! Look at the state of me! How can I hold any kind of conversation together when I look like this?! I try to compose meself and to say something vaguely normal! "So what were you doing down this way then? Didn't know that you came to this park?"
Christine looks only momentarily thoughtful as she holds back some laughs. The sight of me right now would be enough to make anybody laugh!
"I was out walking with Darren. Just over there near the bottom of the hill. We had a bit of a row and I was on my way home. Then I saw you fall in! The perfect antidote!"
"You had a row?" I say in my most concerned voice. "Everything OK now then?"
Christine flicks some green looking goo from off of me chest. "Totally! Me and him are over! It was coming really. We didn't have much in common anyway. Watching soap operas and a bit of company, but that's that. Total idiot with nothing to say when I got to know him! You might sometimes make no sense, but I should have listened to you a few weeks ago Mr Green!"
I want to look smug but know that I shouldn't. Besides, I can't really - not looking like this!
"That's too bad Christine. You deserve so much". Is all I manage?
She looks touched, she looks happy! "We'll see! Anyway, how come you didn't reply to any of my messages that I left on your phone?"
"I've being writing a lot lately Christine. But that's it for a while now. I've had enough!"
"Really?"
"Oh yeah! I'll leave the writing to somebody else for a change!"
This girl clad in black looks down at me typewriter. "Something strange and symbolic taking place here was there?!"
Shit! I'm embarrassed! I don't really know what to say....tell the truth mate....do it!
"Yeah pet, that's exactly what it was!"
Christine laughs again. "Let’s get you home eh? You've just got to get some dry clothes on! We'll stick on some music and we'll have something to eat, yeah?"
"And a nice little drink?! I reply.
"Of course!" Says Christine.
"I want to bring you somewhere first though, it's not to far, just a couple of minutes away?"
"Sure, as long as it's got nothing to do with water!"
I place me typewriter into my holdall and look up at Christine. "Noooo! It's got nothing to do with water! It's just nice, that's all. I just want to remember all this because you rarely get second chances to make a good first impression!"
"OK Green, are you sure you can make though?" Says Christine, slightly laughing!
"Of course I can! But take me hand though OK? I'm a little bit wet pet and I don't want to slip again!"
Christine smiles, puts out her hand and I take it. We then start to walk up the path towards the top of the hill that takes prime position within this West London park.
~
"It’s a lovely view". Says Christine.
"It’s even better if you stand on this bench?"
I step up onto the bench and Christine follows me. We look out over West London and my heart and soul disappear as I feel Christine once more lock her hand around mine.
Us lapsed catholic surely have a flair for the dramatic don't we?!
But we all need a little bit of magic in our life's at times though don't we?
We all need some unexplainable story and some unexplainable intervention to step in and take us down an unfamiliar path? Maybe life is all about first chances, second chances and third chances? Maybe it’s just about making up for the bad times?
I dunno! Perhaps some of the biggest characters are covered in the biggest scars? Not scars that are still sensitive to a touch or the heat or the cold, but scars, that when a finger runs across them, bring a smile to the owners face?
You see, I don’t want to spend a life wrapped up in trivial pursuits! There really is just a few really important things in life isn’t there, and I hope so much that I've wrote them somewhere within here!
And yet, I know I’ve got a lot to learn, and maybe one day…I’ll write about that to?
I make mistakes and I'm still learning! I might often become someone that I don't like and have to change at times?!
I might say things that I regret?
A hard lesson to learn is that sometimes you can only really appreciate something, when you live a life without it? And whilst I may often feel like drowned trash - I hope to fuck that I realise pretty quickly when I'm walking on the wrong path? Something's just have to feel right and just have to lift your spirits don't they. Like people who listen and like words can, yeah?
To cut a long story short (kind of!) there’s no short-cuts on this path is there? You can't try and avoid the inevitable for too long?
Sometimes we might think that we're happy and right - when we're obviously not! Simply because we might not expect anything more from ourselves? And to be honest, I'm not a serious man and I don't ever want to be! Some people make everything so complicated and have to draw it all out?! Be it with their own use of clichéd words, the broken look in their tired eyes or the stance in their stubborn pose.
I just don't want that to be me - silly laughs, a dash of passion and maybe a silly face will often be the dish of the day to pull me through... I hope?!
Faith? Belief? I don't know? But imagination....yeah! That'll do for now!
I certainly don’t have all the answers and certainly don’t know all the questions!
I suppose that when it all comes down to it, I’m like this massive shattered jigsaw?!
There’s pieces of me scattered to the four corners of the earth and I’ll never be complete until I get up, get in tune, start looking and find them? I’m sure that love is within one of those pieces, love for meself is one and love for others is another one?
It can never be to much too love and learn with the ones that I'm with...
And those pieces are out there, inside the colours and outside my mind.
Thing is, I don’t know if I can start travelling to find any new pieces in the near future, at least not this year anyway; there’s no way that I can afford the fare after all the money I’ve spent over the past few months!
I'll walk beside you until the end of time,
Maybe write your new story and write your rhymes?
We'll rub each other's scars,
We'll cross arms in the dead of night,
Sense the pain and whisper 'It will be OK, It's alright'.
I'll feel a sense of loss when you're not there,
We'll lift each other up from the dirt when we're lost somewhere.
My head in the clouds but my feet on the ground.
Close your tired eyes and raise a glass to me,
Memories frozen in time to hug this hollow tree.
History, the past and the present, we'll see,
After the opening performance and choice words;
We'll rub each other's scars,
We'll cross arms in the dead of night,
Sense the pain and whisper 'It will be OK, It's alright'.
I'll feel a sense of loss when you're not there,
We'll lift each other up from the dirt when we're lost somewhere.
My love?
Some fucked-up chemistry between you and me?
Word-bound and tongue tided,
Open spaces and I'm open wide.
Some fucked-up chemistry between you and me?
Word-bound and tongue tided,
Open spaces and I'm open wide.
My hub-cap star,
You have become real to me,My head in the clouds but my feet on the ground.
Close your tired eyes and raise a glass to me,
Memories frozen in time to hug this hollow tree.
History, the past and the present, we'll see,
After the opening performance and choice words;
My gravity?
And now I've hopefully written something real and raw?
Thankfully, my expanding trail of wordy thought is broken by Christine tugging on me hand and pointing out over the park with her free one. "Hey Green. Do you know that bloke down there?"
"Who? Where?" I say.
"Over there", says Christine still pointing. "There's some bloke over there with a dog waving at you".
I follow Christine's gaze, and she's right! Over to the side of the park, where a large section of trees form the shape of a green circle, some bloke is indeed looking up the hill towards me and waving.
A dog is spinning at speed in the grass beside him.
"Oh yeah! I don't know him or his dog though!"
"Maybe you do?" Says Christine. "Wave back anyway Green! Go on! If it was you down there, wouldn't you like it?"
She's right!
I wave back at the man and his dog, and the second I do so, the man in black stops waving and gives me a thumbs up!
I can then hear the barking of his spinning dog carry across the breeze towards me. The dog then charges off into the trees and the man follows behind him, throwing me one last glance before he to disappears into the undergrowth.
"Weird!" I say out loud.
I then notice that Christine isn't holding me hand. She's stepped down off the bench and is looking down towards the trees.
"Maybe?" Says Christine, "But some things don't have to be explained do they?"
"I guess not". I say, looking down from the bench at her and smiling. I step off from the bench and stand beside her. She laughs again. "You are almost green you know?!"
"I know! I know!"
She's got something in one of her hands.
"What's in your hand?" I ask.
Christine looks me in the eyes and beams brightly. "It was the only one left in the grass - maybe the last one before autumn - before the frost sets in?"
She holds up her hand and opens it; and in her palm is a wild daisy.
Just words, eh?!
And that (finally)....writes someone from far away....is that.
The
End
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