I was going to bed

                        

I was tired

I had given drink a slight edge on my evening   and now

I was calling it a night

turning in

to sleep

but no sooner had my head hit the pillow

hardwood 

           blazed across my mind

fuckin marvelous

hardwood

engaged by hardwood 

                        I reeled hung up snagged on this slender rogue spur

my brain besotted caught a raw edge

a cleaved splinter

threatening to blow out  maximise its spike   drive itself deep inside me

too deep

       to be relieved by a matchscorched needle

or pray the carpenter Exacto knife I kept 

                                           a miserable excuse for a scalpel  

otherwise Id have to wait on it 

                                 let it grow uncomfortable warm and red  swelling

until my body had had enough and pushed it out

at least enough to grasp its skull with a tweezer

yank

      be alleviated of its irritation

                             

Im thinking bodies would make excellent landlords  

utterly  graphically Impartial

not turned in any direction

no argument  Reason

begging or cajoling

Keen

recognising either what benefits it or Not

and if Not 

            Adios moo moo chachu (he didnt speak Spanish or the steadfast Mexican 

his father erred)

Twentythree skidoo  baby

Ya dig

hardwood

 

there would be other names other nights that he summonsed on the glass vapor of vodka

another drink to-night

                       anmaybe nothing would have come

the quiet slap of linen at the back of my head

then senseless

no ruminating

no catches

or hooks

a congenital abyss

and perhaps others prefer

                            to slip into an abyss when going to bed  to sleep

not the sharp crackles and dull redden throbs that mill like networked lines and shafts
against the coalblack silvering  as those peering back at me 

                                                                and me at me

going to sleep was an adventure  and taking something into it

upped the ante

hardwood

ironwood

petrified 

                                       

wood

to fashion a shiv or club

theres nothing at the door to check you in pat you down  or ID you

you kick in the gate 

                      and it absorbs you

a greenviolet buzz plays in your ears

  

2307,  Saturday,  29  11. 14

"Read books are far less valuable than unread ones," quoted Nassim Nicholas Taleb of

Umberto Ecos antilibrary:

                                         “You will accumulate more knowledge and more books as you

grow older,

and the growing number of unread books on the shelves will look at you menacingly.

Indeed, the more you know, the larger the rows of unread books. Let us call this 

collection of unread books an antilibrary.”

"Father” wrote Faulkner in The Sound and the Fury “said it used to be a gentleman was

known by his books; nowadays he is known by the ones he hasn’t returned."

A passing reference to Samuel Smiles, Scottish author and reformer, who in Self-Help 

(1859) wrote "A man may usually be known by the books he reads as well as by the 

company he keeps; for there is a companionship of books as well as of men; and one 

should always live in the best company, whether it be of books or men."

So where in these jugglings am I supposed to find the makings of the man I want to be

A Read  or Unread man

his voice trailed off as he turned the page
then

--   Time for bed son

--   Really

Youre really gonna leave me with those soundbites rattling around in my head

when Im supposed to be going to sleep

hed laid the book down  spreadeagle  letting gravity holds its place for them

he enjoyed getting something for nothing  betraying the old adage 

                                                                          There aint no such thing as a free lunch

and unless an earthshake quakes it free

itd be laying there tomorrow evening so they could pick up where they left off

exactly where he intended to leave his son this evening 

                                                                                           exactly when he left his daughters

after horrifying bouts with Stephen Kings short stories

then leaving their closet door swung wide open

like an unsatisfied maw

Really  they said

--   Yeah really son

Itll keep till tomorrow

--   Gee dad

Im wired

--   Cut the wires  or dance in them for a bit before the puppetmaster comes and cuts yours

Silent percolating is good for the antisoul

his old man couldnt help himself  whatever was pitched at him he tossed back its anti

Too many people  he argued  glommed onto the uPside of things without paying a little attention  or none  to its Downside

                                          the fine fine print in font too small to read  fashioned 

instigated to cause eyestrain  exhaustion  just by thinking about reading it through glass

and therein lay its Truth  and Promise

so he ran the opposite tact  an immediate  lavish  and indecently vulgar skepticism  which he argued was also the closest thing to religion any adult should genuflect before

but no bowing ones head

it left the neck too exposed to a concealed headsman

Cut the wires or dance in them for a bit before the puppetmaster comes and cuts your strings

Wait for it

--   Good night son 

I love you

--   Gnight dad

I love you too

he supposed there was a lesson in there somewhere for him to ferret out and tuck away

for later in his life when he “blew this popstand!” 

his dad was always blowing it

he was rarely rash

rarely did anything kneejerk

when he asked him what kneejerk meant his dad told him to sit down on a kitchen chair

and hed be right back

--   Where ya going dad

--   Im going to fetch my ball and peen hammer

--   For what

at a distance  his voice receding pedaling downstairs into the basement

--   To slam your knee with

my knee

--   My knee!

he heard something replied   an inchoate mumble

--   MY KNEE!!!

--   GOT IT!!

--   MY KNEE!!!

--   GOT IT!!  YEAH!!   

YOUR KNEE!

--   WHAT ABOUT MY KNEE!!!

--   What are you yelling about

What about your knee

--   Are you gonna hit my knee with a ball and peen hammer

--   Yup

I think youll learn better if I show you

entering the kitchen

Whered you go

all that remained in the kitchen chair was a slight tremble

Hes got it

Thats a kneejerk reaction

1555,  Friday,  28  11. 14