Fingers On The Buzzer

Bonjour, greetings, what’s happening? I am back. Yes, indeed. Had a lovely little week with my wife in Malta, in celebration of my birthday, which is today, happy birthday me. I am @!171& *i!@ years old. Old enough to feel old whilst dancing at a pool-party in Malta to some House and Techno, but young enough to be able to dance at a Pool Party in Malta, to some House and Techno, with the odd bit of hip-hop and jungle and the occasional sit-down for a breather. Got straight back in the mix this week, continuing my work with Dream Arts – where we’re developing a show with a group of unaccompanied asylum-seekers. We’re on the last leg of the show now and they’re doing great. However, my co-director, Catherine, is away on holiday this week and next. Catherine also runs the project, ie does all the admin, and it’s a lot! – So I stepped in this week and if you’ve been following any of my stories about employment, this is not one of my strong points! Here's a draft of a piece I started this week, about how easily distracted I am. Once I’ve posted this, it’s Lager Time for real. Plan on putting a few lagers away tonight, with some good mates, eat a curry, then go and have it to some drum and bass in Brixton. Yes Have a banging weekend Paul Fingers On The Buzzer I like my morning read don’t like being disturbed focus is finite There’s already enough noise inside my head Don’t need anymore Missus is away Dogs are away Just me, my thoughts, a book and a tea and whatever peripheral street sounds are Coming in through the window Summer’s in, mate Back door ajar, washing out Let’s get down to business I’m tyring to get into this book about employment So far it’s touched on Marxism and unions and neo-liberalism Just touches, that punch like blows to my brain I have to really concentrate take my time Re-reading paragraphs Try to make it make sense Got the usual internal racquet distracting me with Nonsense, throwing me off some fly buzzes in this thick black one that moves like a pinball on amphetamines Notoriously hard to catch They drive my wife round the bend She zaps them with this barley legal tennis-racket That produces a small electric shock Like a whimsical execution amusement ride at 1950’s Butlins Me, I’m not so bothered usually Today I am though It’s the final distraction tipping my focus over the edge to a place I know oh so well where faded bits of homework barley-started funding-forms and unborn projects have a permeant home in some sweaty purgatory of shame and failure the little prick has my full focus now I’m willing it towards the window Go on son, do one The thing is so erratic it gets to the Window and just bounces off the glass and pings straight back in the opposite direction What’s you’re objective here, mate? Where are you going? What are you trying to do? Lay eggs? Bite something? Bang something? Don’t suppose these flies lie in the pollination game? Should ask my mate, Leeds This is his territory Alas, he’s in Greece So what is it this prick wants? Is it a proxy agent working for my wife? Sending detailed surveillance notes about my activities? Or lack of Can’t be My wife would never fraternise with the enemy Her principles are titanium As is her stubbornness Look at this noisy prick That’s a lot of sound for a tiny black blob Just go away, mate Please Just go To be fair it is a bit nuts in an interesting way This hairy black blob Nipping through the air like An Apache helicopter over a busy airbase Prepping for war The battlefield of my living-room Agent-pollen dropping relief sacks onto the floor It’s quite amazing, actually Defying gravity like that Fair-play you annoying fuzzy prick It heads towards the window again Makes it this time Trough the crack and out into freedom And just like that peace is restored I feel good, relief at last No one was hurt in the airing of this and I’ve now got something to write about What was I doing before? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cree.substack.com