Friday, January 25, 2008

Bathtub Gin and Denim Slacks

(Jan 25/08)

This evening I attended the ballet at the red-very-red NAC: Carmen without the banana-boat-hat and mambo beat. Stolidly stiff, mechanical and un-swarthy, kind of like The Nut Cracker on downers and bathtub gin, minus the plumed hats and jingle-jingly jodhpurs. I general (as a rule and pogrom) enjoy the ballet, however this evening’s fare was incalculably boring. From my eavestroughing perch above the orchestra pit (I had a rare good time watching the percussionists, as there were three, patiently awaiting they’re tidbit entrée) I sat in a crumpled-slump trying valiantly not to nod-off and carom willy-nilly into the good-seats below. I’d much rather have spent the evening sweeping the toenail clippings from my ecru-grayish rug than sit one more minute watching the gaggle gob agog. Perhaps the opera next, or a minuet with oboe, flute and fugal-horn, and a piccolo played from the bottom up.

(Jan 24/08)

This morning I had to sidestep a bevy’s-worth of crescent-shaped toenail clippings; one should be more careful, tidy at least, when clipping one’s toes.

(Jan 23/08)

This morning at 10 o’clock, or there-about, I am being awarded a bursary-cum-scholarship. My school has seen fit to laud me with a monetary prize, God love them and they’re brethren all. I must now cloth and shod myself, perhaps in a cable-knit fishermonger’s sweater and jazzy denim slacks. I have showered, laving betwixt nook and cranny, elbow and ankle-strop, coiffed my hair and applied a mild lotion to my freshly razored face. One more Parliament (filter-tipped, white) and swill of espresso and off I go, by bus and fleet-of-foot.

2 comments:

Pearl said...

fact or fiction bursary. If fact and act, hurrah.

and "I sat in a crumpled-slump trying valiantly not to nod-off and carom willy-nilly into the good-seats below. " what lovely sounds.

Stephen Rowntree said...

Yes...and from Imperial Tobacco, too. Thanks Pearl, its always so nice to read your comments; they help bring sunshine to my day.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
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