All this had been coming… I climbed out a window on the ground floor of the staff digs with all I could carry lapping at my sides and I was gone. Another catering job was in the rear view along with my mouldy work boots and a half eaten pasta bake. Escape. I cared neither for the destination nor the journey, I just had to get around that first corner, out of the sight of the guard tower, the breakfast triple shift, passed the village sign, the sun cautiously rising….
Country roads, like almost everything, can be romantically revered and bluntly ignored, just like women, families, poets, jobs…money…
Since my earliest days, revelry and contempt have been present in each moment of my reflections. What chance did I stand? Each experience pregnant with indifferent deference and half-arsed sorrow. Holy Fucking Shit, Oh Christ No! Then followed by, or rather overlaid with, oh well….
Why the ups and downs? Why not the mechanical, flat-lined drudgery of the ant? Envy the ant! He prospers without art! Without question marks!
If only Lenin had studied ants rather than Marx….