And after I've eaten three frankfurters from a jar, that I've no idea how reached my kitchen, the intercom buzzes, and I watch my reflection in the glossy paint of the door as I pull it open, and then I catch my eye in the window of the buildings opposite, and I'm handed a T-shirt. And this is the first time I notice that its dusk, and the orange glow of the street lamps fuse the air with a hum. And the shirt reads DC 10 and has a picture of a tree, and I take it, and god I wish tomorrow would be over. And I start making plans for two years time, and I'm listening to Dizzy by Jimmy Eat World, and that's when I realise what is missing.You. You're not here. At least, not in this city.
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
So it's Wednesday. And I'm thinking about London, and what might have happened if I hadn't have left. And I feel like I'm over this city. There's nothing here that really interest me any more, not the blossoming streets, the cider boats, the vodka bars, the neighbourhoods. Nothing. And I'm quite honestly stuck in a fucking rut.
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1 comment:
Jesus, Toughie, go to London, New York, Los Angeles. There's a whole world waiting for a bright, talented young man of "boyish good looks" and you're withering in Bristol. It makes no sense... except maybe from a literary pov.
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