Sinister: torra fy ngwallt yn hir

[chris perriman]

crunching through leaves where i crunched through snow, it only seems like a 
few months ago but the snow is on its way back [from russia? who knows].
it is a while since i have walked back from phil's place, the half-hour walk 
usually punctuated by primal scream, new order, belle & sebastian, 
spiritualized, super furry animals on my minidisc player.
today i am accompanied home by at the drive-in; sacrifice on railroad 
tracks, freight freight train coming freight freight train coming.
i can scream at the top of my voice in the park, if the inclination took me, 
tonight i shuffle past the drunks pissing in bushes.
they would only make comments if i screamed at them so i dont, my army parka 
collar pulled round my headfones round my ears.
i smell of woodsmoke.
our bonfire burned quickly but brightly.
the one next door, in the carpark, burned long but with matresses and 
wardrobes, how uncouth, we had a christmas tree on ours, where the hell 
*that* came from i'll never know.
phill [whose house we were at] has just been laid off. with only two months 
to go until his apprenticeship is finished. he's fighting them all the way.
until then he joins me on the pile of unemployed.
at least he has four years of training as an engineer behind him. i carnt 
even get a christmas job.
sorry if i'm depressing anybody but that's just the mood i'm in

last night i listened to the sigur ros album again.
i lay on my bed face down 'till it was dark.
i watched the sodium lamp outside my window flick on and then change from a 
deep red to the orange glow we all know and love.
the clouds changed from huge stratospheric to thin straggling horizontal.
like great expectations, but the only uprights in the scene were telegraph 
poles, not jibbets.
i watched the magpies that have nested in my street. i've named them belle 
and sebastian.
how twee.
except there were three of them, is one the chick? a bit too late in the 
year; i'll name the newcomer judy.

the wind is heading out to sea. i only live a few hundred metres away so the 
fog often rolls up my street and you can smell the salt in the air.
not tonight. the smell of black powder hangs heavy.

last night it felt late at six o'clock, now it feels early at 12.
at least i know what day it is.


i must leave you, you don't need to read this drivel.
but who else can i talk to?
please take care in all that you do and of those around you
Pez*

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