29 April 2012
Good Morning!
A very happy if wet Sunday to you wherever you are.
Last night was a relatively docile affair - Wayne's World and a couple of beers - but today promises to be bloody action packed!
We've somehow lucked into free tickets for the London Eye so the plan is a boozy breakfast followed by cavorting tipsily above the glorious (albeit sodden) city in a big, clear bubble before Sunday lunch in the suburbs. I guess you could call that action packed. If you were a monk. Which I might be:
First:
Two relatively straight up lyric pieces; one about the weapons with which we arm ourselves as we grow older - all the better to return to and cope with certain situations in the light of experience; the other about tomboys/lesbians.
Then I have a newnew poem about the rug on my living room floor. A rug that older than I am which was in fact present for my first steps. And, very possibly, my first everything. What can I say. For I am nostalgia boy.
Before all that, here's a poem that has nothing to do with the inclement weather.
Take it easy, love much,
Jon. x
29.04.12 • Opuss № I