“Sunrise Impro” by Naked Hairy ManAugust 25, 2008 at 6:58 pm | Posted in writing | 20 Comments
Tags: sheer selfindulgence, writing, writing for fun
“When a culture is faced with an end it disregards it,” mutters Carl Jung. Huh, Mamu looks down at the pianoplayer, passed out on the beach again. He wonders why he takes it so hard, folds like waves into seaweed sandwiched between the small boat and the sand. Seagulls are somewhere on a balcony handrail where the old man sips his whiskey and turns, “Well my love, another satisfactory sunrise,
Squires! Are you staring out that window naked again, gambolling like some Pan in a verdant garden. “T’was not of his own creation, this verdant garden” recites Sir Ian in the cafe whilst dull American tourists pass by unnoticing, hurrying back to the safety of surburbia from their night in the valley.
“I do not believe,” says Carl Jung. “I can only say that I know what I know. It is not a question of belief.” And ducks as the crowd hurled fruit which woke the piano player draped over Mamu’s shoulder. He blinks into the dawn and opens his eyes to see Brighton, 2010, bobbing past like a faded poster peeling from some crazed rickshaw.