Monday, 31 July 2017

GUEST POST, TROUBLE BY HEIDI JAMES


Trouble by Heidi James






‘We’re just here to take your statement,’ he says, ‘nothing to worry about at the moment.’ He takes out his notebook and pen and turns the volume down on his radio. He sits opposite me on the armchair, his stab vest and heavy boots at odds with the soft furnishings. I want to rearrange the cushion behind his back. He will crease the covers slouching like that. I nod and tuck my hands under my thighs.

It’s hard not to think of your life as a maths problem, where this event added to this crisis, added to this choice, subtracted by that choice, multiplied by this situation divided by sleepless nights and God knows how many bad habits equals this. If I were the religious type I’d consider it the most efficient way of deciding who to let into heaven. But I’m not. The religious type I mean. But I was never very good at maths, among other things.

I don’t often take the initiative, it’s not that I’m unimaginative I just don’t like to cause trouble. I’m used to sitting back and letting things happen, letting people make their own choices, do what they have to do. It’s better that way. My sister calls me a pushover, she’d be surprised now if she could see all this; but a girl is missing, and I could be doing the right thing.

I’d phoned them, that time before she disappeared. And I had every right to, listening to them fighting, screaming night after night. The walls are thin, and I need my sleep, I need my peace. I have every right, as much as the next person to have a little peace at home. And I gave them chances. It wasn’t like it was the first time, I wasn’t sticking my nose into their business. They made it my business by being so loud. Anyway, I wish someone had called the police for me, when my trouble started, I probably don’t actually, come to think of it. God only knows what I want.

The trouble didn’t start the drinking, that came later so I can’t really blame him or the situation, but it didn’t help. It creeps up on you, slowly. You go from enjoying a drink at lunch with friends, to watching the clock and keeping busy till the time you can have one glass and still drive and do the school run. But then you drink a bit more and a bit more and you end up in an incident where you’re having a fight with another driver while your kid is screaming in the car for you to stop. Or where you’re so drunk at work that you can barely stand, so you lie and say you were hit by a car on the way in and have concussion.

Maybe life is more like a chemical reaction, you add this element to that, and heat it and shake it, and add another solution and watch the reaction and then maybe add something else until it explodes, or solidifies or evaporates. Perhaps that's it.

The policeman is writing everything down, only occasionally stopping to listen. I’m not sure I’m speaking, so I can’t guess what his notes say. Perhaps he’s written, ‘she smells of misery, fags and cheap coconut shampoo’, that’s what my ex said, before he left the second time. I haven’t had many dealings with the police or the law, not really; except when I was a kid and went with my boyfriend to court for his sentencing. I’d had to bunk off history, and was still in my school uniform so it should’ve been no surprise that it was reported to my social worker. My boyfriend sent me a visiting order to see him in prison, but I didn’t know what it was for so it went to waste and he called me a cunt while he cried from loneliness during his weekly phone call. I didn’t even get into trouble when I stabbed him, in self-defence obviously, because it hadn’t rained for a week and the threats he’d chalked on the pavement I walked on to school hadn’t washed away. But that was all so long ago that now I’m not really sure how to act. I’m not sure what to expect. I want to ask the policeman if it’s my fault she’s gone missing, but I don’t want to raise his suspicion, it can’t be my fault anyway, not really, that's just a habit of mine, to feel guilty.

I had a friend once who could read your fortune. She had narrow brown eyes and hips twice as wide as her shoulders, childbearing. ‘Your trouble,’ she said, when I threw the I Ching coins one more time, ‘is you want something for nothing.’
‘What does that mean?’ I said, showing her the symbols on the coins.
‘No idea,’ she shrugged, picking at the spots on her arms, ‘I wouldn’t trust them even if I did. Gemma nicked them from the hippy shop.’ Later I heard she moved to Middlesex and worked in a café. She wasn’t a very good fortune-teller. She said I’d have children, but she didn’t say anything about them being taken away. Or this.

He stands up, is putting away his notepad. I stand too, to be polite and walk him to the door. ‘We’ll be in touch,’ he says. I wave goodbye but he doesn’t turn back to look. Above him the sky is filling with clouds, bumpy and the same grey-purple as brains.  







Home





Best NovellaWounding   Image result



Friday, 28 July 2017

THE WRISTWATCHES




 ' . . . also i realised since i been ill i been getting into watches, nothing expensive, i'm poor as the proverbial.  i not bothered wearing one regularly for many years but i was thinking this renewed interest might be because of being ill, my relationship with time has changed, lots of it but too ill to make use of it.  don't mean to be morbid about it but wearing a watch again seems like  an acknowledgement of this, am i making sense ? . . . and wind up ones, i like the tactile feel, we're loosing the tactile feel in this touch screen age . . .  also i like old dial telephones, you remember old dial telephones . . . ' 




 from the tapes of Farley Monroe Jr 
 in therapy with Dr Luke Rhinehart III 




pic by mango-tango monkey-pyjamas 



           i not worn a watch
            for yeers

              now i got a drawerful

           ebays wunderful

             time caught
              ina machine

           genius&arrogance
             strapped
              onto
          our flesh&bone

             and 
           like a dreemcatcher
          is more about acknowledging
                 the
              
                p o w e r

             of dreems
           than catching them
           
                 
           watch is a nod
                  to
                the

         e n d l e s s m a r c h

              that we feel
               islikea
            plastic ruler
                when its
              morelikea
            ball of wool

         and i like the way
              theres a second hand

           jerkingspasticrelentless

            forever onward & scare-reminding

                  strapped onto
                   my
               flesh&bone






pic by mango-tango monkey-pyjamas


Thursday, 27 July 2017

ENJOYING IT ON PURPOSE



industry assassinated a cow
and emptied him out
for me to sit on

and
i
make SURE
to
enjoy
it

tranquilised 
watching netflix
frappucino in my hand

and
smiling on purpose
i
work 
HARD 
at being entertained 

so i dont let down
those that suffer 
with 
their
hopeless endless 

dreams of here



Related image

fight club from free.gqmagazine.fr

Wednesday, 26 July 2017

GARDEN COUNTING




theres a gazillion birds
in the garden airspace

at least a gazillion
i counted them

and one big black cloud
whos
guilty
of
withholding
the rain i need

there two dozen contrails
made 
from
sterility conspiracy
and
unnatural vapour

and there two white feet
mine

theyre hobbit like & hoof like
changing & morphing before my gaze
and
i
look
away

( wide eyed & worried )

to
the black cat
sitting
just
right

the way they do
in
impossible perfect construction & peace

and
theres
a
moody
wasp

he looks like hes going insane

fly here fly there
and
repeat

its uncomfortable to see

hes deep in an indecision breakdown

and
i
wonder

if i should twat him
into an oozing squash

on
the
pebble
filled
patio
cement



Image result for dead wasp

pic by tegmin on imgur.com


Tuesday, 25 July 2017

SOON



ambulances
arent chased 
by 
lawyers anymore

like in
low rent
tv
cop shows

sleazing it up in the ER
and
sleeping in their used car

the lawyers 
are
in
the driving seat now

wearing
the slimy skin
privilege mask
and
funeral dark suits
of
a
rt hon mp
running all the red lights
straight
to
your
bank
and
deeds

and ditching regulation
out
the
drivers side window

like 
we'd
chuck
a
fag 
butt



Image result for ambulance chaser

from iamit.org

Monday, 24 July 2017

EVERYTHING IS PERMITTED



we 
are 
grounded monkeys
in homegrown polyester

proud of our cutlery thumbs
hot as heaven & cold as hell

mad 
with 
the
thinking virus

the others 
in the universe 
are laughing at us

but
jealous
too

at the ease 
of our 
hypocrisy

& how we wear our morality
like disposable
latex gloves



Image result for IMAGES patrick bateman

patrick bateman from lynncinnamon.com

Friday, 21 July 2017

DEATHS EMPTY YAWN



and
after
it
all
there is space made

like an empty yawn

for another
wet sacks
plastic kipple

~

this empty yawn
gasps into the cosmos

this empty yawn
is
stuffed with hamburger
and 
strange rubbery cheese
made 
in 
a
factory sized
chemistry set
somewhere
up
north

~

this empty yawn
is
flooded
with 
instinct & new blood

a mystery use by date

and
dna betrayal 

patched over
by times

new day
same day

relentless & assassinating

updates

~

this empty yawn

makes you
yawn too

and you see
those gone remain

for a time

in the nebulous hallway scent 
of
dateless
deja vu

~

this empty yawn
dries
stops
dies

the
moment
you leave
the wake

you sit in the car
and its too normal

youre in confusion
feeling
unresolved
and
full of carbs

~

this empty yawn
leaves old codes
in unconscious crafty placement

and surprise
bursts in your heart

at
old coins & stopped watches
in
kitchen drawers

at
bus tickets & jotted notes 
of
1950s mileage
used
as
markers
in
dusty
unthrown 
hardbacks

but
only for
the 
first time around



Image result for cosmos

from onedio.co

Thursday, 20 July 2017

JUNIOR SCHOOL PM



at the end of the day
we put our chairs 
upside down on the tables
for the cleaners easy access

it made the room
instantly alien 
like it was
full of steel porcupines

and there was a brief buzz
of clique free
childish camaraderie
that
it
was
over
at last
again

goodnight to teacher
we said
goodnight to cleaner

and then a slow walk home
down the soft back alleys
where someone had laid
carpet cut-offs
over
the
dirtway
slipthrus

lurid indoor patterns now trodden in
and
disappearing

or maybe to the pool

loose my self in motion
and chlorine

big blue locker key
pinned to my trunks
with
their
three
sewn on stripes
of competence 

i seem to remember it all
so clearly
everything except
the kind of bag i had

( what kind of bag did i have ? )

i was by myself
i wasnt good in company
it seemed to subtract me
somehow

so i walked home alone
or to the pool
looking at the roofs
and the tv spikes there

wondering
all
the
wonders
i wondered



Image result for arthur bugler junior school

from dailymail.co.uk

Wednesday, 19 July 2017

PARAPHRASING WARREN ZEVON



i was a metaphor waiting to happen
most metaphors happen at home

or do i mean accidents ?

either way
i
want
to
save
your
life

at the end of the world

and
there
is
no more love than that



Image result for END OF THE WORLD

from laymansbible.wordpress.com

Tuesday, 18 July 2017

HYMNS & PRAYERS


1. HYMNS

we sang hymns at school in morning assembly
or show tunes
stuff from musicals
joseph and his coat

like i could tell the difference
like i even used my voice

the words handwritten in blue marker
on a big paper pad
winched up on a pulley
in
the
corner of the hall

i was interested 
in the handwriting
in the crossings out
in the cramped corrections

i did vague mouthings
my
back
sore
sat
on the hard wooden floor

i found out 
some music made me want to cry

i found out 
thats mostly ok

and i found out 
i needed glasses

school taught me 
those two lessons
at
least

before i was ten years old




2. PRAYERS

we prayed at school
heads down

i was uncomfortable lying like that

thank you space daddy 
for everything ?

i mean come on !

i never shut my eyes
all the way

gullible adults
i would have thought
if i knew that word then

but i did think
how can you ?

god seemed 
no more likely
than santa
to
me

before i was ten years old




Image result for god santa

from secularchaplain.wordpress.com