teardrop tattoo

May 23, 2008 at 6:47 pm | Posted in writing | 13 Comments
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Suddenly he realised that the idea had been creeping up on him for a long time and leapt fully formed into his front brain like a lakota springing from behind a sofa accompanied by circus music dada diddle diddle dum dum dada, roll up roll up and then it was gone and he was sitting alone in a tatty one bedroom apartment not far from the city, Friday night, drinking whisky with Tex Perkins playing in the background gazing absentmindedly out the open door into the yard where young lovers where giggling under the same moon. There is only one. He had always known there is just one moon but that mundane fact had become imbued with some fundamental wisdom which he could not explain. It is the same moon looked at, mooned over, by everyone each night. And as the moment fades so does his confidence in the thought, in its clarity or depth. The tiger tattoo on the back of his forearm is fading and needs a touch up. He would do it himself but these days he doesn’t trust his hands. They are good enough still for drunken schoolboys wanting skulls and daggers or a breast butterfly for somebody’s girlfriend he could still knock out in fifteen minutes but his days of aspiring to Shanghai are long gone. Kevin used to have a shotgun under his bed, he remembers but is unable to connect that thought to any other. These days he felt less and less in control of his thoughts. Impressions sprang up and dissolved. Dada diddle diddle he thought and my short term memory is becoming embarrassing. Friends forgive of course but it is starting to effect my ability to end my thoughts in a way that completes the idea he began with. The glass is empty but the bottle is not. Haha, that could be a fine song he thinks, and I shall add a line about the moon being the same moon for everyone. Perhaps they will believe I am quoting country music again he says to the empty room. I told you about the first two times I got arrested but not about the third if I remember right. Did you know that trusted longtimers get limited internet access now? Being trusted is easy. It’s all about disinterest, selective deafness, short term memory loss and honesty. All of which can be faked. The lights blinked. “Squires“, he said jangling the keys, “Cell time.”

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