i dream of a worm in my mind, eating up all my memories. I hear Kmart’s going to start that product line; you will, one day in the near future, be able to pick up a worm in a size and appetite of your choice, to regain that eternal sunshine of your spotless mind.

I’ve been reading Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads 2 (must get my hands on Talking Heads 1) and it fills me with nostalgia. It shouldn’t of course, given the deeds that are described in dark and lurid detail (nothing to shock a priest in a confession chamber, of course.) but just a musty, familiar vibe, like when you go poring through worn, yellow photo albums in your attic. So many memories, so much oldness comes flooding back to you. I remember when I first read The History Boys, I didn’t understand what exactly the lollipop lady saw. it made no sense at all, I wasn’t one who got innuendo. And that was just three years ago. Dear Zheng Yi obligingly explained it all to me at a pe chalet. Now when I read Alan Bennett I just assume extremes of depravity in all his characters (in other words, extremely realistic/honest story-telling) and everything becomes clear. I understand how Talking Heads 2 somehow emerged more sad (in a very mellow, knowing way) than funny, like Talking Heads 1. Of course it is still funny, but in a more disillusioned manner. He’s truly a master of wry observation. I can’t believe i got it for 3 bucks.

The More & The Less You Mean To Me

Wilting. Wilting. I have lost all feeling.
I sit in the shadows; the shadows become me
The night rain kisses the world; the rain becomes me
I awake to a red dawn; I have lost all feeling.
I write his name at the top of a letter; the ink is running
It etches dark rivulets down the paper- the stain of gangrene.
Gangrene becomes me. I am wilting.

I pick up the phone and I put it down again- the phone is mocking.
I write a letter and then I tear it up- the words are balking
down the back of my throat, to join all the other unwhispered “I love you”s
Black with gangrene
They are wilting
Into words I don’t mean.
Wilting. I have lost all feeling.
I have lost everything.