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Tuesday, February 06, 2007

From One Untenable Position to Another

Hey, I ask myself, I’m downstairs, where are you?

In search of the lost art of concentration.

I coin a word, ‘hypotenusate’, meaning to cross the road in a diagonal manner. Example: ‘Saw you hypotenusating that zebra crossing the other day, you lazy so-and-so.’

I start with the first hapless passer-by in the street (they’re all good) or some shop or café I’ve walked into (they’re all good too), pretend to get very worked up about something or other, nothing really, then lose interest all of a sudden, by which time the moment has passed, and I’m safe, safe, safe.

Hey, I’m upstairs, where are you?

I live in the bread bin, I hide in your pocket, I drink only rainwater from the saucepan that I hold out the catflap.

The film costs – I know how much the film costs, but how much to sit here between films, to watch the curtain, to sit with the lights up and wait?

On the news I learn of a man who has spent two days trapped in a gorse bush. A man trapped in gorse bushes for two days has spoken of his ordeal. First it was funny, then it wasn’t. ‘At first it was funny, but before I knew it I was stuck.’ One minute he was in his bush, then the next he wasn’t. When he was finally rescued by a helicopter crew he was numb from the waist down. This is the news. A man was in a gorse bush and then he got out.

Hey, I’m upstairs, where are you? I’m downstairs, where are you? But I just came from downstairs, how come I missed you? But I just came from upstairs, I must have missed you! So where are you now? I just went upstairs again! But I just went downstairs! We must have passed on the stairs! We must have done! What the fuck? What the fuck???

The flowers on the underpass are rotten now, they were rotten then, they were always rotten.

Hey, I’m upstairs, where are you?

Can you come here for a minute?

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