This is my dream. I am sitting in the garage at 1am, the candle glowing. A small moth is crawling round the computer screen. I am writing this very line now, wondering where all this is going.

And where is it going? Surely not to somewhere else. Is there a destination at all at all? Given the direction we’re on? Do we need a destination? If we get there will loose ends tie up? Are they worth tying up? And what’s wrong with loose ends?

It doesn’t matter. Jimi Hendrix has stolen the recipe, smuggled it aboard the mother-ship and sold it to the Martians for an unlimited amount of money.

It has always intrigued me why moths are attracted to light, seeing as how they only come out at night. You’d think they’d just cut the crap and come out at day. Would they then start circling around the sun?

Mum never comes into the garage. As for my bedroom, she sometimes sends the maid in. She’s too old to be cleaning up after me. But I have outlawed both Mum and the maid from the garage. Especially the writing room.

The garage is old, archaic even, and my little writing room a throw-back to the depression. Hooks for long gone tools silhouetted to the wall. Shelves, drawers and cubicles everywhere (the people of the depression may have been poor but they were organised). The garage wiring though is in need of a rethink (I refuse to let anyone touch it) which is why I require a candle or simply the light of the computer screen to accompany my presence here. It’s not the place for a maid. I prefer the cobwebs, the filthy keyboard, the clutter. It seems cleaner.

This entry was posted in Terry Two Fingers. Bookmark the permalink.