Sunday, 3 April 2011

Solipsism

Blurry images. Blowing past like cornflakes. It all covered the minutes. Foster's in hand. Lots of Foster's. Heavy. Blush past people in queue. Embarrassing. Back to walking. The usual. Short walks.

Few minutes. Knock on the door. No answer. See a doorbell. Diminutive, inadequate. Lift finger to press it. Presses once. Wait. No answer. Two minutes. Press again. Answer.

Hug. Presence unbecoming, hormonal instability increase by the minute. Rush, not late, but still. Familiar sight of location guaranteed. There he was, a brother in spirit. No acknowledgement or hello. Yet. Lift feet and mustered enough courage. Don't let fail warrant success now. Acknowledgement and hello.

Familiar woman. Good lord woman. Sweet bejesus, almighty, heavenly woman. Recalling past memories.  Know now. Just fucking wow.

Smell of flesh burning. Glance left. There it is. Meat, sweet meat. Not too much, can't help it. Social interaction taking longer than usual. High time for establishment of acquaintances. Try harder. Distraction. Her hair. His hair. Meat and beer and everything in between. Fun while it lasted. Music be bygones. Not for long. Say hello to months. Hours brush by in haste. Vibe of music overwhelms. Echo of violin in the air, savvy.

Amazing. Talent when it looks in the eye. Suppression of pride, anxiety, unbecoming, behooving. Enter piano, guitar. Throw night away. There it is. Camaraderie.

Woman. Good god, woman. Good bad, woman. Trail blazer up and coming. Sense of departure building up. No, not now. Woman.

On with the music. Music is life, maybe not mine, but still. Understanding underflow.

Say hello. Say goodbye. Time is wasting. Defiant in scope.

Women.

Search and destroy