‘Dominion/Mother Russia’ – Sisters of Mercy
My ‘parents’ are fucking me off. What I’m against is being manipulated and ordered about; having to do things against my will and being ultimately unable to do anything about it.
‘Naked In The Rain’ – Blue Pearl
Jack’s just had some blokes visit him from a computer software company to discuss a programme they would like him to design. I hope they give him a job.
I hope I get that Museum job.
I hope the DHSS finally backdate my money tomorrow!
I love the ‘culture’ I’m, ‘part’ of at the moment. God knows what it is, but it seems to respect a hippy ‘60s thing, along with acid, drugs, punk, House music and comics. It’s exemplified by the likes of Pop Will Eat Itself, Revolver/Crisis/2000AD, pop music from the likes of Snap and behind all that the Rave scene too. In my daily life it’s baseball caps, trainers, hooded tops, tie-dye, psychedelia, and painted Doc Martens. Just a shame that the bubble is pretty much bursting though. Sadly, ‘Madchester’ fashion is getting crapper and the House music ‘scene’ is fucking up. Soon I’ll be part of a sub-culture again…
‘The End’ – The Doors
Sitting alone on the windowsill, carried away on sunset’s inferno, I’m drifting on islands of darkening blue on a boiling crimson sea. Curling wisps of smoke-like cloud weave a flimsy web over the horizon’s volcanic conflagration. There is a passion and a fury, and yet there’s also a sedate passivity to it all; but always a steady ooze of new wonder.
I weep inside for lost days in a different air, in stranger lands.
My stare penetrates the whirling pools of fire, my soul pencilled, my mind painted, my emotions emblazoned with this sun-blessed gold.
I wish for tirades of beauty still to come, knowing I have spent my youth wisely. I hope I have much more of it to spend. I don’t want to label these new and tearful days as ‘misspent adulthood’. This fiery sky blazes about my heart; a small testament to the wonder without/within. This fire tells me the things I need to know, and in that telling it promises more. I must be patient and I must be strong.
And now the sky opens and the rain pours forth.
I thank the mother for this orgasm of beauty; this small, but oh so great pleasure.
A year ago today was the last time Ritcherd J Winterfood spent with Miranda Wasp. Good god!
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Next time: ‘Going Down…’