I read the news today, oh boy …. . And the world keeps on turning. If I could I would like to write a song about that, that’s a perfect title for one to me with my twisted perspective. Randomly, I like to change around the words of some popular tunes to make them my own. Purely for self-gratification purposes, I might sing the odd line to a work college, or even put pen to paper if I think the rhyme might be going somewhere, but rarely is that the case.
I don’t need no eggs and bacon
I don’t need no cholesterol
no dark dead matter for my sandwich ….
Hey! Butcher leave that pig alone.
The original didn’t need changing, I know; The whole song I was thinking about making was a vegan tribute, I don’t remember it all now, I jotted it down on some bog roll, appropriately and that was as far as it got. Flushed away! Giant shits are what you take, crapping on the throne. Sting deserves it! A lot of songs are too crude to recall if I am honest as they did involve mostly toilet activities as such. That’s all I know.
I suppose it is reassuring that the BBC chooses sometimes to convey good news stories along with the bad, so I shouldn’t condone it right? However, the balance is a bit jaded. Just so you know, I didn’t follow up on the story, the headline was enough of the visual metaphor, it might be the unfortunate chap is in a terrible way, and following in the footsteps of the family trait bestowed upon them by the evil media, who as you know, took Diana from us. Though somehow I doubt that is the case, or people would be stopping me in the streets and singing that beetles song to me for real. So, I hope this lucky man who made the grade is ok? Is he? Please don’t tell me though, as I have a life to lead (and a book to read). If it was a donkey he fell off though I think I might have finished reading the rest of it, a seasonal wish perhaps, a festive coincidence. Was it like Humpty Dumpty?
And though this news was rather sad, yeah you know, you get the picture! This is of course, by now, is old news. At the time it was current. It’s so nice to be away from “The Bad news.” It seems as if all “news” is just that. When I look out my bedroom window it’s not Jihadi terrorists I see, they might be there. Hiding? I’m just blind to it I guess. When I did have a TV I remember I used to like to watch” The Big Breakfast”, cos they skipped all that, the bodies, the sickness, the desperation, the sadness, the carnage. Instead, they concentrated on the absurd, the ridiculous, the silly, the funny, the clever side of humanity, but the show ran out of money, as the masses would rather dwell in the dumps, sniff the shit and not want the transformation to a different level. Why are we so controlled? It’s good to be aware, sure! But is this reported awareness the reality of the norm, is it what we really want to see and hear constantly? I reckon it might not be good for us. I’m not parading around with blinkers on either, the shit is there, but so are fireflies 😉
Fireflies dance in an estuary near the Mangroves. These winged beetles, gleaming green glow worms of night are soliciting themselves in a serendipitous tango. Miniature mechanisms navigate their airspace in a show that is both mesmerizing and spellbinding. Away from the city lights and people lights where they would seem invisible, their existence here is one of intelligence it appears. They choose to hold their private parties elsewhere than in the neon and florescent spotlights, certainly not to confuse their partners, or prey, possibly because they are darkness fanatics too. All I know as I view is that this existence is like them, tiny, insignificant to the context to our life span … that their reason to be has nothing to do with mine.
It rains here every day now, almost. It’s not an English rain though, accompanying grey leaden skies, which persists and malingers, when you see no end. It’s fleeting, passing by, and when it has gone it has done just that. Leaving behind in its precipitation a vapour that is quite magical, especially of an evening, after the gods have left the sky for the night. It seems to add another dimension to my senses resembling the fireflies, something Mr Nikon cannot see or feel.
Swimming in the aquatic water when it rains is something one might never do back home, as it may already feel too cold to be in there in the first place. The ocean here is warmer and the onset of the rain is a pleasant head massage as far as I can make out. Why then, do people run from the sea? They are already wet? There is a great deception about how fast the rain moves in and carries on its way. I think I am watching it in real time; it gives the impression to transfer at the same pace of a brisk run perhaps. But I am on the ground, and the clouds are above me at a distance. Cirrus clouds in the jet stream can move at 100mph plus, migratory birds utilize it when they, as I do, escape the cold, decide to move on to catch a few sun rays and get some decent food. (In general, maybe not here)
I discovered a bar for a beer called Helmuts, its run by a German guy with lots of … Germans with their big, imported 1000 cc Hardly any brain cells (Harley-Davidsons) parked outside. The mocking bird is mocking himself too, its ok! I love to turn you off.