As days go…
Today began with an umbrella and ended with the very same umbrella, except a damn sight more windswept. Its fragile spine broken. Feels like an analogy.
No this was not a vintage day by any stretch of the imagination. No no.
I often say “what’s the worst that could happen?”. For once I don’t want to know the answer.
There were lost keys, a ropey ladder and forgotten purposes.
There was frustration, much frustration.
There was a plan to share some love that quickly became an opportunity lost. Lost but in no way gone forever. I’ll make up for it I promise.
There were people being nice. Many of. And me being grateful only in hindsight. I’ll make up for it I promise.
There was a bus that left early. And in so doing leaving me behind.
There was, and is, a sense of trepidation. That ever-ominous “what if…?”.
There was rain. Real rain.
There was a frisky young couple at the bus stop. Heavy petting in a shelter that smelt of piss.
There was the choice of standing in the rain or feeling part of an unwanted threesome. I stood under the shelter. I felt, and still feel, the need to have a shower.
No as days go this was not a vintage one by any stretch of the imagination. No no. And not even the best efforts of Florence and the Machine could make it any better.
But there are promises to keep.
And there will be brighter, finer days.
Soon, real soon. Of that I am certain.
An open door…
There’s something quite subliminal about doors, especially those which we don’t know what lies behind. A certain mystery, a sense of wonder. Not like in the Bosco sense. More in the real life what the fuck is behind that open door and why the fuck is it open sense.
Last night I got home from work just after midnight. I live in an old style, suburban apartment block. And sadly I don’t know any of my neighbours. A few faces to say hello to but no-one’s name. Such is modern living I guess.
At the moment the lift is broken and the lights in the hall are on in the daytime and off at night. A sensor problem I’m told. Anyway the place is quite eery at night.
When I got to my floor last night I noticed the door of the apartment across from mine was open. There were no lights on behind the door. Slightly ajar I suppose but enough to pique my curiousity.
I don’t know who lives in that apartment but I wondered why the fuck is the door open at this time of night? People usually know better and in this day and age you just never know.
I walked to the door, heart beating a little faster, darkness abound, and just listened.
Silence. No sign of anything going on behind the open door.
I thought what to do, what to do? I’d no reason to intrude, no real reason to call the Gardaí.
So I left it, opened my own door and went home. But it didn’t leave me. I lay in bed wondering why that door was open. A gangland killing? A burglary? Was there a Buffalo Bill type behind that door? Would I have to go all Rorschach on it? I choose my friends, I make my enemies, but have no say in who lives across the hall. I couldn’t sleep.
So I got back up out of bed, opened my door and walked out into the hall.
And lo and behold… the door was still open. I walked over and slowly put my hand on the handle.
“Hello….”.
Are we dancer you ask?
There is a very fine line between being cool and aloof and being an ignorant dickhead. And Lord knows we’ve all straddled that line. I sure have.
But all we crave is just a little of that human touch. So Mr Flowers to answer your question, yes, we are merely human. In a world without pity. Yes, we may be pretenders, and although we do like to dance from time to time, that does not necessarily make us dancers. Or denser.
If you should have any more questions I suggest you talk to Uncle Bruce. He can fill you in in ways I never will. He may well charge you €96 for the privilege but, believe me, it’ll be worth it. He might even point you in the direction of his friends with the Neon Bible.
The world is broken…
Mad Max & Dog
This morning I read a post by Darren over at the Mighty Pound. It’s a bit doom and gloom, which is fine, but it certainly provides food for thought. As does a particular comment by Jo which goes a little something like this….
We continue to work on ourselves and mastermind our own evolution…. I don’t think we’ve got much time left.
All of this set me thinking. About humanity. And, of all things, about our existence . You see I also just finished The Road by Cormac McCarthy which hasn’t helped. It’s a profoundly affecting yet miserable aul read. Stunningly savage and beautiful. It describes a journey taken by a father and his young son over a period of several months, across a post-apocalyptic landscape. Civilization has been wiped out and, apparently, most life on earth.The attention to detail and imagery evoked are remarkable. It sets you thinking. As does Darren’s post and Jo’s comment.
Plus yesterday I saw on the news that a Saudi oil tanker had been seized by Somali pirates off the coast of Kenya. Madness. “The world has never seen anything like this,” Andrew Mwangura, co-ordinator of the East African Seafarers’ Association, told Reuters. And according to FoxNews, Admiral Michael Mullen, the U.S.’ top military officer in the region said he was “stunned” by the reach of the Somali pirates. “I’m stunned by the range of it, less so than I am the size,” said Admiral Mullen. The pirates are “very good at what they do. They’re very well armed. Tactically, they are very good,” he said.
I wonder are we going to hell in a hand cart? I have visions of a Waterworld / Mad Max-type post-apocalyptic dystopia.
But I’m reminded of an Après Match sketch. The one with U2. “The world is broken. Bono make it better”. Have a look. To lighten the mood. Forget about post-apocalyptic dystopias and Somali pirates for a moment.
Last Night…
Over at OutsideIn recently, in a post entitled Charlie and the Good Samaritans, Bryan recounted his experiences on the M4 motorway when a number of people went out of their way to offer assistance after his car had broken down. In the comments section I was sceptical about humanity, having encountered the opposite experience when I had suffered a fall from grace my bike near the Point Depot (I just can’t call it the O2!). And that was despite my spectacular Chuck Norris / Van Damme style dismount! You had to be there.
Anyway I am delighted to announce that that very scepticism was washed away last night. I was cycling home at about 9pm. I had left my hi-visibility jacket at home (it’s a long story) and only had one light working (the rear red one). As I cycled along a quiet Clontarf street an oncoming motorist flashed his headlights in my direction. As he pulled into his driveway he rolled down his window and said “will you get some lights, I could hardly see you”. Now I fully agree with him re: lights. Especially now the evenings creep in and darkness reigns a lot earlier. But it’s not what he said, it’s how he said it. It was in no way patronising. In fact there was a great deal of compassion in his voice, he genuinely cared for my safety. So I cycled the rest of the way home delighted that a stranger had such concern for this unknown cyclist on an Autumn evening. And I made a vow to make myself more visible at night on the road. We all should.
