Saturday, 21 February 2015

Another Week 61 - Yoga Pants, People and Stuff

You know how it is

The ground seems permanently damp, the air., 'biting'.. The cracks in the pavement have been repaired so many times that I'm not really sure what part is original stock., baby..; nothing is smooth. The new creative center of the nation, the one where artists are apparently flocking to in their droves crumbles around the graffiti painted walls.; the empty high street units and the now faded and sad facade prop up the chipped framework of a once glorious painting .. 

The gutters are filled with several seasons (and more) of debris., rusty padlocks keep the rotten., leaning and once proud huts safe.. Chipped., broken and daubed concrete tenaciously hold onto a history long gone.. Pier posters grasp a 'comedic' past with the firmest of grips.. Teeth gritted., rounded shoulders braced and white waters crashing against stories of yesteryear.. Grey..

Music stands remain derelict looking and empty while fountains splutter out of a green murkiness.; streams wash cans, bottles and deflated balls to where tattered blue flags fly proudly above battalions of blue bins.. Amusements, well penny slots, play a soundtrack reminding us of teddy-boys, mods and winkle pickers lamely attempting to seduce those who brave the elements looking for that all important shelter.. Scaffolding abounds., metal fence panels too, signs not to do this, not to go there feed our hearts with reminders of how to live (or not) our days.

From where nature caresses man..; south of the boardwalk there is an horizon where magically the sky meets the ocean., north is where paint peels.; south of the lights there is the sound of nature, north the sound of anger.. To the south, nature's air., to the north, fries and vinegar.., pies and second-hand smoke.. - you can leave your footprints in either..

Navigate the path., avoid the beaten up traffic cones., the crunched up cigarette packs., the empty crisp bags.; narrowly missing the chewing gum and shrug at the cider can.. Tesco receipts and dog faeces.; a pair of shoes looking as though someone just stepped out of them and walked away remain neatly hugging the kerb.. The odd well worn wet glove, a child's sock and the striped beanie.. The flapping caution tape., the conifer cones., the broken steps, broken glass., broken hearts..

Moss growing out of the sides of buildings., branches growing out of the side of buildings., dank alleyways and running rust.. A red bread tray hanging over West Cliff's, or should that be East Cliff's cliff (?).; it's one of them there 'st's cliff..; how did it get there.! I can get into London's Tate and the National Gallery for free., I can see an original Picasso., an original Matisse., and the original brush strokes laid down by Van Gogh., one of Russell's artists after I've paid., and I'm lost.. The cost of parochial culture..

Missing letters where huge investments are made .. and not a primary color in sight.. Billy Fury's 'Halfway to Paradise' proves to be the very odd 'hip' musical choice for the tuneless merry-go-round. From red sunrises to puddles in an hour.. and my left Salomon GTX Mid is full of blood (?).. 19 miles can do that..

From creative to square., from digital to 'traditional'.  Stairs from here to stairs for there.. The sun shone today and the caps were out in force., carefully placed on the ground infront of the crossed legs.. Am I supposed to walk on the left., or the right.., stand still in the middle., or... find someone to follow..  Max's old house, Bob's old house., Greensleeves and Mantovani's old house... Mary Shelley's old house..  Skerryvore (old)., Gazza's care home.. and hiviz jackets..

Broken branches., flashing lights and caution.; benches., windowless shelters and ferret walking. Cigarette butts and carved out messages.. Union Jacks, candy rock and toilets.. Fixation, routine and Primark..  - ''Now it's a mighty long way down the dusty trail and the sun burns hot on the cold steel rails.''

Man of Steel -  There's something about cobbles and holding onto something to let go of.., but man o man., Tarot Card Reading is on at 10.00 am tomorrow if you're local and interested..; it's in the listing., but be quick, this is why the creatives are flocking.. Finance a heavy gold frame and use it to mount your faded Woolworth's greeting card in...  '' Mr Blue Sky.''

Big brown eyes.., incessant...; phone boxes., remember them (?)., in all forms of order, occupy pavement space. The town's got gates man., barriers and grates too., bus shelters., CCTV's., broken clocks and if you look high enough., barbed wire..; am I wrong.?

''l love the sound of breaking glass
Especially when I'm lonely
l need the noises of destruction
When there's nothing new

Oh, nothing new, sound of breaking glass''
Nick Lowe 

Walking by the aftermath of a recent car crash doesn't help, although the company did.. Climbing concrete stairs in the rain's way more fun that coffee shop cubicles..- Local Organisation.. , soap operas, drama and
'back off  boogaloo'




Thanks this week go/goes to - A whole bunch of people.. and stuff

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