Friday: Leaving for Ieper and being thoughtful

-

There's are so many late arrivals and early departures when backpacking that I should wonder how often relaxation is found or even whether it is sought.

Belgian fast food snacks? No more. A stern reminder for the remainder of this exposition. The short term lust is nothing next longer dedication to self preservation.

Had a dream of having to awake for work at five forty five even though my contract had ceased. Now as I relieve my self I discover it was some phantom playing hand card tricks within those ebony corridors that are my thoughts.

Eblutions and a dry bath now I've hopped over to catch a train to Ieper(Ypres) apparently it is worth seeing. The girl on the counter was large with child yet pale white to be suckled and devoured. European beer rarely gives me headaches with a hangover. 9:31 to Kortkijk blue skies from horizon to horizon. Similar blank faced commuters with iPod, iPad, Metro, Macbook unable to escape to work or college. Four days until the brat was born whom hoped to save us all by himself - really? Nice tie inspector. €11.80 one way.

Blue morning sparkling on fields once shelled into oblivion. The collective ego is a dangerously noisy, violent selfish entity.

Am I alone in ignoring metro newspapers on the train or bus. Not just news but stripped bare short columns to get your gore up before nine.

Time to kill a coffee(€4.40 dopio) before my connection to visit fields of dead in rows too deep to fill with ancient stones. Apricot lattice breakfasting. Last carriage on this leg with the sun coming up strong and bearing news but I am not sure I can look that way at all.

Passing the first stop a light flyer comes in with the azure blue and brilliant golden silhouette. Spectacular day so far.

Wevelgem tarnished sign and a youth highlights some course notes in perfectly justified ledger. What once was peaceful, unique and clean will dissolve once Menen is passed. It is a long way to Tipperary.

Irony in spades: I walk towards Menen Gate with Merry Xmas (war is over) playing on loudspeakers along the straat. No words can impress on me why this had ever to happen. Killing for land so sodden by blood and boots that pigs would have suffered to eat anything but flesh in bite sized notions of corps. You'd need to travel beyond infinity to embrace the fallen. Tears for an end to war? The power hungry should be ashamedly sorry to need to treat the many so funereally - surreal? I know where that change came from. Not sure 'like a virgin' wasn't the condition of many a fine fellow.

Catching the 13:39 away to the Netherlands.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

An Essay.

-
Introduction. My name is Pilgrim. I walk through this life much as I walk through my allotment – a space I often describe as disorganized, yet to me, it feels profoundly holistic. I don't fear wasp stings; I stride through nettles and thistles and brambles, finding a curious interest in the cut skin, a quiet control over the bleeding. I have no fear of the dark or the unseen. What truly disturbs me is the chatter, the small talk that ripples through existence, obscuring the profound truths unfolding before our very eyes. I prefer chaos to order, perhaps because the imposed order I witness around me feels so deeply, fundamentally false. I literally eat things along the path, unbothered by what others might deem unsafe, for my perceptions lie far beyond the superficial. I’ve come to see this world as a grand, unsettling performance, a "game" played at the highest echelons, designed to "manage the populace from cradle to grave." It's not a conspiracy in the nea...
Read more

France is ... a powerful antidepressant

-
I have to resuscitate a dying sense of spirit and enthusiasm into my present as I have become detached from the real joys of my life. No reading, no writing; no contemplation. Even now I am tempted to throw down the device and forget it, but why - because it's a dead end... Surely I can stay here a little longer until something infinite moves within and without? *** As I sit on Ruby's sofa/bed and listen to the sounds of spring, with the gentle murmuring of the pond at the bottom of the garden and the distant hum of the A1(M) I am aware of the distance growing between what I truly love and what I am become; in despair. Oh the alcohol fuelled me. The forgetful me. The desperately lonely me. The one I've cordoned off for the world to see. Ruby is happy with me, Lola is happy with me but I am unhappy with me simple as I am - Mother Nature's son: tranquil and unimpeded by mental noise... Knowing the truth will set me free, but being forever unable to accept it entirely. It...
Read more

You and I.

-
Are we joined, you and I? When I sit squished up, alongside thee, It seems we are: Dog and boy Man and mutt. A symbiosis between homo and canid, A combination of smells, swells and warmth, which is rarely malignant. What a lucky man I've been, knowing  She's going to rest assured and easy, These last many years, as we both Age gracefully and greying towards separation; where the winds blow us  Disparate, sometimes warm and often Cold, back to the single I; alas! No more the we. She of a gray face, And I an ashen shadow, But always brighter  Than a swarm of photons, Alighting a while, Out of their cosmic array...
Read more