2 minute warning. Sketch outline for short.

At table. Radio and TV on. Reading paper.

spread out.

Dipping soldiers into an egg, that spills across the news.

Pan to headline.

He ignores spillage, turns page.

Attention to radio. Warning of something immanent.

Radio is turned off / goes off.

TV. View of 2 anchor people. Male and female.

Final warning. 2 minutes. Man at table opens a bill for electricity. presenters speak rhetorical questions of what to do. Male answers. Wants female. Tries to atack / rape when no response. Man at the table pours out a cup of tea. Takes another bite of soldiers. Looks at a picture on the fridge. A family. He is not in the picture. TV shows pictures of army movements etc. Back to presenters. Male is being hit back by the female.

The okay sounds. False alarm. Announced by the female.

Ends.

Hmm. If only I was paid on three grades above my current salary. Then I’d be able to afford to hire a Caterham 7 for a day or few from this company which is even not too far away. Oh well.

A long time ago, I used to collect and keep all of the tickets to films, bands, and anything else that I used to go to. I used to put them on the wall, or in a drawer, and look at them to remind me of the things that I had done.

I don’t do that any more.

I don’t need to. The person who collected and had the need to collect is gone. I am not who I was. Collection was needed then as a method of controlling what was done, to give it meaning after the event through the physical form, rather than relying on the memories alone.

But, the collection carried an emotional weight. It becomes too easy to place over emphasis on the past, to look through and cherish the tickets and the memories that they give, whilst limiting the experience of the present.

So I don’t keep the tickets. Instead, I keep memories, and the view ahead.

[Subliminal messaging mode]Chuck out the stuff in the garage, you dont need it, release the money from the house, sod paying off the mortgage early that’s boring, get a Caterham 7. You know it makes sense.[/subliminal messaging mode]

When I wake up, every muscle aches from the severe beating of the night before. I can’t easily open my eyes. They are glued shut with congealed blood, and it proves hard to wipe it away with both hands still tied behind my back.

If you think hard enough,
you can apply anything to your own life

Last night
when you were sleeping
I was awake
and bored
and so
I strayed to your
diary, with
your thoughts
and notes
about him
you and
me

I read it twice
the second time whilst
pinching myself
to check
I wasn’t dreaming

Afterwards
I drank some water
came back to bed
and looked at you
face down
on the pillow
snoring

I couldn’t sleep
knew what you’d said
about him
you and
me
so I opened the window
stood
looked out
at the quiet
city streets

The air made me tired
eventually
and back inside
to bed
so I lay
with you
each on either side
facing opposite ways
and I dreamt
of the time when we
first met

In the morning
the day breaks like your
first smile
warms the world
yet
somehow I’m not touched
remain as the night
cold and
frozen in time

Woo. I’ve had nearly 300 hits. Or 30, if you discount my own. If anyone could explain why on earth they read this I would be delighted to learn. Use the comments. They took minutes to set up, and are still mostly empty.

Glastonbury tickets are totally screwed this year.

Aloud have really messed up. Unprecedented demand, they claim. Uh – it happens every year. Try learning.

Also, as I wasn’t sure if I would be able to go if I did get a ticket, I was intrigued by the refund details. On one page you are told that you can get a refund to 20 May. On another, it says no refunds. Ludicrous.