This took my fancy. Paul Henry as the subject of Banksy-styled street art, Lambton Quay.
Notoriety is a curious thing. Being of a meek and shuffly disposition myself, ever-fearful of causing offence or bringing any kind of hurt whatsoever to bear on a fragile world, I sort of marvel at human trainwreck situations (figuratively, I mean). They are so utterly foreign to me, these cat-and-pigeon pyrotechnics. But of course, for whatever reason (and let’s call it love) I went and shacked up with the china-shop bull yin to my apologetically china-evading yang, because sometimes that’s just how it happens when pairs are formed.
Speaking of pyrotechnics, tomorrow there will be fireworks. Even sparklers make me startle a bit, although I do like the way they leave a retina-scarring trail behind them, even after they’re well gone.
I started writing something for my little china-shop boy the other day. I write it on the bus, on my way home, when I remember, and when I have writing utensils on my person, and when no one is sitting too near me. I have set rules. Each individual section has to be written and finished within a single bus zone, and then put away and not looked at until one day I figure I’m done. And then I’ll piece them all together. It will probably be fucking terrible. That’s okay, though. I kind of hope it is a bit fucking terrible. I don’t know why I do. It’s maybe the self-saboteur in me (while I’m incapable of wilfully bringing strife or conflict to those around me, I seem to be pretty good at inflicting it on myself).
So far the bus poem starts: you and your amphibian eyelids. That’s all I remember. I’m not actually sure where I’ve put any of the scraps of paper, either. Maybe they’re lying on the floor of a bus somewhere. Doesn’t matter though — I have the opening line, and that’s further than I usually get.
Filed under: daytoday, family, found stuff, poetry, things I like | 2 Comments
Tags: poetry, things I like