Late night recovery session #1

February 11, 2008 at 10:02 pm | Posted in Distractions | Leave a comment

I reckon Simon Armitage had it nailed when he wrote this:

Where does the hand become the wrist?
Where does the neck become the shoulder? The watershed
and then the weight, whatever turns up and tips us over that
razor’s edge
between something and nothing, between one and the other
Gooseberry Season, from Kid (1992)

At no point did it feel like I was having a bad day: the workload was manageable, the weather was unseasonably kind and (crucially) I’d succeeded in making a pretty girl laugh. But then someone at work began a long soliloquy about Britain’s terminal decline. Then train was so packed with holidaying kids that I spent half the journey wedged between the door and some fat man’s sweat-soaked armpit. Then on the way to collect Mum from work, Dad pointed to houses on the council estate we drove through and wondered whether they were occupied by drug dealers or mere drug addicts. As a setting sun painted a solemn hue over the skyline, he gleefully recited the news stories he’d heard that day: kids who attack fire crews responding to emergencies, justice for the familes of 9/11 victims that may be sullied by accusations that the suspects were tortured, and a group of schoolkids who chased, beat and stabbed another schoolkid to death somewhere in Hammersmith. By the time I got home, demoralised by the sustained beating my spirits had taken, I resolved to cure myself with wine.

The reason I didn’t was partly so I could write this blog, but mostly because I found a better drug. This very nearly made all the bad news disappear:

Joyous, life-affirming, barmy brilliance

The Flaming Lips

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