Better Living Through Cleanliness

Mon Ami, Pierrot

Over the last few days I've been experiencing a great deal of rage for no apparent reason. I've been trying to set people on fire with my mind. It's warm and dusty today. It's frustrating to feel that my brain is 'going off', like a yoghurt that's been left in the sun. A pile of useless mush that's really of no use to anyone. My mental powers don't seem to work on small cats either. There is a silence that is soft and grey, and gentle and soothing.

I've left the previous post up, despite my better judgement, as proof of my mental degradation. Words come bad. Despite Catherine Murphy's objections, I actually like the idea of Maynooth being a dormitory town. I remember being small. And leaning how to sing O Clair de la lune. Or the whole 'Slumberland' idea from the Simpsons. Maynooth is where people come to rest. Like those drifting beacons. We've got neatly ordered suburban gardens, soft breezes, dust and streetlights.

I've never listened to lyrics. I remember 'Penny Lane' being the first pop song that I can remember hearing. It was on the kitchen radio, and I asked my mother what the words: 'Penny Lane is in my eyes and in my ears' actually mean. She told me the song didn't mean anything. I've never felt the need to decipher songs since. It's perfectly acceptable to me that songs and poems can mean absolutely nothing, which is probably why I was never any good at English in school. I got a D in Jr. Cert. English, y'see.

posted by Adrian @ 5:01 PM