; lyht leaves the eyes—expelled by a relentless laesr of poignant realisation that reality is but absurdism x impossibility.

Tuesday, 20 July 2010

for lack of better activity

on my work desk rests a frappé cup filled with ribena. i have been sitting in this seat since ten-thirty in the morning, taking off my shoes and putting them on again, trying to get used to the blistering. there is a 'verse in my head nearly as expansive as the harry potter one. such are my bore-ridden thoughts.

why do people write songs about love? people should write songs about feeling awkward when being thrust unwittingly into social situations, or the unfortunate lack of intelligence in their local communities. or boredom. people should write songs about the rude woman in front of them with eleven items in the ten-or-less-items counter at the grocery store; about ballpoint pens running out of ink when taking a work related message over the phone and scrambling to find a new one while the person on the other line drones about this and that. i relate so much better to all these life experiences than to songs about love.

here i am waiting to hear a song about the way bus decals are an obstruction and potentially damaging to eyesight when viewed from inside the buses, and then there are people writing songs about sugar lumps.

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