Sodium hydroxide, also known as lye and caustic soda, with the molecular formula NaOH is a caustic metallic base which is a white solid available in pellets, flakes, granules, and as a 50% saturated solution.
It is soluble in water, ethanol and methanol. This alkali is deliquescent and readily absorbs moisture and carbon dioxide in air.
Sodium hydroxide is used in many industries, mostly as a strong chemical base in the manufacture of pulp and paper, textiles, drinking water, soaps and detergents and as a drain cleaner. Worldwide production in 2004 was approximately 60 million tonnes, while demand was 51 million tonnes. Although molten sodium hydroxide also possesses similar properties, the high temperature required limits applications.
Pure sodium hydroxide is usually a white solid which may be pellets, flakes or granules, though sometimes it is in form of a 50% saturated solution. It is very soluble in water with a lower solubility in ethanol and methanol but it is insoluble in ether and other non-polar solvents.
"I've been trying to find you."
I've been here all along.
lease don't think that I
haven't been
listening
out for you.
I've been home.
I've been right here but the stereo has been on . . .
too loud for too long.
Because everybody's been getting me down.
And this is what I do to drown out their incessant
drone.
And I am waiting for an apparition to appear.
Bright and unforgiving.
Just like so many that have come before.
Just like so mant that will come again.
Let me play the prophet.
I know exactly what to say.
God knows I've watched you often enough!
But I'm more fed up now than sad, actually.
Because it's the same sentence in a different throat -
a tape recording in a loop and it goes round and
around.
Pass around the crown.
We'll all get to wear it for a little while . . . and
says, "Well I've been trying to find you." Please.
DOn't think that i Haven't been listening out for you.
It's just that the stereo has been on too loud for too
long.
(And every word that you hold dear - it's just a
photocopied letter sent out to everyone, every year.
And what you heard and held sincere - you'll hear a
I arrived underdressed and unprepared. It seemed so
disrespectful even though they didn't care. And of course
they didn't there is real love here. It didn't matter how
black my eyes looked or how rough my shirt or face. There
was no excuse. Now i'll there be any made. Im sorry that
I left the party. It had nothing to do with anything. It
was just bad timing. It seems that I've been made to feel
cruel and overgrown. Like untrodden paths. Whats to guide
me? A couple of stars? Persistent is that sad, cinematic
glow inside. A flickering reminder. They used to say,
What other child would smile wider? But now I dont even
listen to my own replies. Im not interested in anything
thats to be said. Memory is shortening. I know it has
always been shocking. Oh, mum I . . . I dont like what Im
growing up to be. Yeah, theres a reason being. The reason
being . . . and Ive been left hanging. You hang
precariously from the edge of what youve got. Each finger
holding on. Each, a sobering thought. No Im terrified.
What have I got to fall back on? What have you got to
fall back onto you? She would say, Think of it as a
hallways. Doors to the left and right. Dont you wonder
what you will find? Maybe Im not looking hard enough.
Maybe theres nothing else. Maybe its just a lack of light
. . . Dont even bother trying to figure it out. Youre
just going to end up damaging something and thats
something you could do without. I didnt leave because Id
have more fun in front of the TV. I just couldnt very
well front up reeking of my anxieties.
Two little shining people. Huddled close in their Carlton
cave. Magazines fall on the floor and university calls
but they couldn't care either way. And they smile when
they say, "Do you feel like drinking? Do you feel like
going out?" But they do that for a living. The sun may
greet the world but it seems them off to sleep. After
standing straight for several hours, serving brainless
wonders - not dwelling on necessity. Take comfort in each
other. That's all you really need. And their days are
filled with dreamless sleep. But they've got everything
to look forward to. They might've thumbed their nose at
so-called good judgement, at not doing what they're
supposed to. What are they supposed to do? They don't
dwell on anything. And everyone who meets them falls in
love with them instantly. Yeah, I know it happens.
Someone should warn him. You might've kissed her lips.
You might know her name. You might know where she live
but you'll wonder about the next time and if you're ever
going to see her again.
You dont want a part of me. And i dont want a part of
you. That is of course, unless you losethat unbecoming
attitude. Maybe then ill change my point of view. Maybe I
just dont now you?... Now i want to be a (big) part of
you: You still dont want to be a part of me. And that
figures - completely.
Pick up on the minor details? Are you kidding? Is there
really belief in what he's thinking or feeling? Now that
the wind has been sucked from those sails, he'll be
drifting again . . . saving the soul is never part of the
plan. Justify every mistake made. Falling like a klutz,
breaking a few hearts along the way. "There might be a
fewties that I'll have to sever. But what will it matter?
It won't be anything that will cause me too much pain.
"THERE"S NOTHING MORE WE CAN DO FOR YOU". There's a
psychological factor lurking somewhere deep, dark and
foreboding . . . somewhere beneath it all. A dark
relentless force. How can this relationship withstand it?
We're spiralling faster than we've ever gone before. You
were there for what seemed like a second. Please. Don't
give it a second thought. I'm sorry. Theres nothing more
we can do for you. You're in a sad, old story, a quest
for glory where casualties don't mean anything at all.
It's almost a shock, this lint I keep dusting off,
I am here, I might as well be covered up
And after being ripped out from what little wall space
I had found.
Small charm that I have for her, I suppose I had to
wear off
See our errands slide through traffic crawl.
There hers more than mine if they are ever mine at all
A few things I wouldn't do. No trouble ever too much.
I'm as happy as a slave, as I can be in a bed apart.
That's why I am here, you understand?
Hold me, disenchanted as I am.
What loyalty won't give me
I'm going to take whatever there is in hell I can
You just watch me
Moralise, by all means philosophis
[?]
A small indiscretion that have some break in
concentration
I guess there's no nice way to need to say that it ever
happened.
I can be in this bed apart, was never here, you
understand?
And hold me, bastard that I am.
The loyalty won't me
I'm going to get whatever there is in heaven she's not
giving me.
Look where loyalty has got me.
Should any appearance of this kind be worth keeping
No call this morning, no sleep at all.
Not getting any answers searching through telephones.
Oh absence, take form. Half cold in a king size dawn.
Breaking still despite the holding on.
Someone tell me, what am I doing wrong?
Clothes I can throw away,
hair I can cut, strip or stain.
Moods I promise to turn like corners
and get out of my own way
but on what chance can this stand?
With that, half a heart in some desperate plan
I don't know who it is I'm up against.
Someone tell me, where am I going wrong?
You're keeping me close and against and I think to a
fault.
Each blazing morning, burns a little slow.
Is there something needs telling?
Some good that I'm not doing?
Provide some helpful point upon which I could fall
or don't suggest anything.
It's probably nothing,
it's nothing if no one can see that there's anything
wrong.
Someone tell me, what am I doing wrong?
Someone tell me, what am I doing wrong?
Someone tell me, what am I doing wrong?
I look around this smoke filled enclosure I don't see
much. A few pretty faces, a glass of Victorias finest, a
masquerade party (theres a girl here in red pyjamas) and
theres one or two that either look confusing to me.
Trying not to look like they dont belong to anyone or
anything. They don't belong to anyone. One big pot of
steaming sameness. One gets the feeling that the air
hasnt moved here in years. Forget you. Forget me. She
thinks that this is really boring. I feel like that most
of the time but theres something deeper that drives me to
keep trying. One day youll hate it and then another
you'll turn around and try and make it seem more
satisfying than it was before. Something to rise you up
and out of it.
"There is always somebody ready to be lured to ruin by
hope of gain" - Sophocles
Face to face with the s-bend, head to head with every
near end. Ill swap an error for an inch. Surely your
forcefield has an off-switch. I keep my flags at half
mast, but that doesent mean i think that time has passed.
Because history repeats. Dint you recieve the call? It
appears the gravel broke my fall. The engine burns and
tyre marks tattooed your name across my heart. They tried
to tell you of the crash in the hope that you might bring
me back. But you went home and the machine would only
beep one continuous tone. So the message never reached
your ear. I guess I picked the wrong day, wrong week,
wrong month, wrong year to try it on. You didnt kill me
you cannot kill me. Because you cannot kill whats already
dead. Remember that day? We shared my eulogy; Too close
to seprate. And in ten years time our friends will still
word associate our names. But you made it clear that I
picked the wrong day, wrong week, wrong month, wrong year
to try it on. And until you lift that lid and pull me
from my grave, wrong day, wrong week, wrong month, wrong
year. And I feel short changed.
Lathered up and weepy,
the informant told me,
and none too sympathetic
that our run would turn.
And standing sent to burn
in decisions, hard print and whatever.
Here they come to register,
you might have to get in line and take a number.
Yeah, we aim to please!
Missing the mark,
fall over ourselves to bother.
Put out and steely,
annoyed and chaining daises,
another quick sentence
in passing another judge and jury.
It's been our misfortune investing,
Hasn't return been steady,
Complaints have been far and few between.
The idiotic, close and many.
Please hold the line or try another number.
Yeah, we may seem cold but it's just because
we've been a little snowed under.
You can't be serious!
Oh lord, and if you are please don't ask the same of us.
You've got a a nerve breaking everyone to feed a selfish
urge. Politically supported, morally aborted. Growing not
in a stature but just plain dumb, in your quest for No.
1. Self-infatuated, this beast that you've created is
spreading like a plague. Won't let me see what I want to
see, cover the screen of my TV. Everything, take
everything. Just call it a way of getting through your
day. Smash it up, tear it down, kick in the walls, invad
my town. Nothing has worth unless there is something in
it for you. My instant reaction is of hate at the others
who just can't stand to let you go. I've seen your love
letters. They're all addressed at me and a million other
potential suckers. Multiple kisses, smiling faces, bands
playing my tune. Calling me up on the phone, do you think
that I'd want to talk to you in the state you're in? But
I will resist. I don't think i can take much more of
this. A rule of thumb: I stick of gum should see me
through this one: - my bleak young kid disknowledge (TM)
- bouts of anger/ignorance - this stupid song.
I ask a question cause the situations bad. Should I find
a new direction from the one I had and exercise some self
control before I lose my grip and fall flat on my face
and succumb to the wrath of the robotic race? Take a step
back, cause you dont realise that your load is your
burden. Try changing your track and find out what lurks
behind the other two curtains. I wouldnt recognise my
failures if they came up and poke me in the eye. I should
live be the truth and not by this lie. I heard a shot,
somebody feel. They dont think twice about remorse in
this hell. My mind came screeching to a halt. I looked
around, the faces that surround are those of the kind Im
inclined to put down and then I realise that I am one of
them too . . . And that scares the shit out of me.
Dont worry about me if I'm not making sense or you can't
hear me. Its hard to speak through shaking teeth and I
fucked up beyond belief. Its my fear, I paralyse at the
sight of your face. You kissed me on the cheek and now
I'm confined to staring at ceilings week after week. But
youre attached not to myself and getting drunk just
doesn't help me whisk you away and blabber my insides to
you. Ive lost the plot over you. Last night we talked for
awhile and I was on the verge of pouring my heart out.
But a cowards all Ill ever be and I punched myself to
sleep. I hope that I can grab another opportunity next
week. The scene where we first kiss has played one
thousand times over in my head. I'd kill to make it true
cause I would wait a whole lifetime for you. Yeah I would
wait a whole lifetime or two.
Thousands of people question their lives everyday and
they come up with different answers based on what is
important them. If they cant reach the goals that they
have set, lack of drive or means, or just dont know yet
it becomes harder to find a reason to sow the next seed.
Some turn to God. Some turn to substance abuse. Some turn
on the TV and soak up the useless information, which
washes over them endlessly. Theres a lot of us drowning
in it. What about me well, I'm OK. I can stand up here
chanting to you all day (I'll always stupidly think that
I have something worthwhile to say!). But what those who
jus't cant stand it, not because they're weak but they
just dont understand the life dictated to them by
society. Knock, knock. Gods not here. And their beer
can't blur things forever so they just endeavour to be .
. . But when exactly did we get told to live our lives
accordingly? We just got thrown in the deep end. Its sink
or swim. Young and alone in the swell with no direction.
Where the hell is that pearly white angel when you need
him? Checked my shoulder, just traces of where his claws
had been. 65 year old woman hoarding cans from a garbage
bin. Plastered to the asphalt, a sad, wet feather fallen
from his wing. 25 year old executive at a pay phone got
his wife to ring and the girl right next to him . . . has
got her frail white hand stuck down a drain, grasping for
a twenty cent piece that she desperately needs to get
home on the last train. We pretend not to see it. Im so
scared to believe it a parents death away from living the
same way and I dont want any part of it. Middle class
ignorance deliver me from it.
Talking to you is like talking to a mirror. The only
difference is that I listen to the advice thats given.
You can drop your guard around me. I could drop my guard.
Thank you man. That means a lot to me. Tell your school
counsellor, Peer pressure saved me. Only because I was
lucky and I knew the stupid things Id get into. Drowning
cares on a Wednesday night. Leaving later, unsatisfied.
Words of encouragement that were much appreciated. Talk
into more that just the night. Straining a black
trampoline sky for satellites. Its everything that ever
mattered at the time. Singing like drunken angels to an
anthem of our own thoughts. Laughing at others
misfortune, then laughing at our own. Trying our damndest
to be ourselves. Trying not to be pushed down. Sifting
through the shit. Celebrating what weve found. Sitting in
the background. Crying, but quick to laugh and say, Youre
lost man but we love you anyway. All the times that I
didnt have to say anything I could read you. All the
times you forgive when I forgot. All the times it was the
right thing to do by you and it hurt. All the times it
was the wrong thing to do. You know it killed me later
on. The sad thing is, this may never last. But you'll
learn more from your friends in their absence.
4:30 she comes on the screen, disabled and dribbling Im
brought to my knees. The Fox was OK but the cat has
conquered. How often my mind decides to wonder. To pass
the time while the story goes on, like a loveless fool I
write this song: Catriona, Catriona, pick up the phone,
I'm all alone. A few million tapes of Catriona retakes
AND IM IN HEAVEN! With crazy ol' Nick and hairy Dave, who
cares about Sonia's story on Rave. It's the Cat we want
on the screen. Come on over and do a story on me to pass
the time while the story goes on, I'll play for you my
little love song . . .
Suburbist lost his way many years into play, pounding a
dead end route devoid of clarity. Suburbist lends his
ear, but no one's ever here to help him turn another way.
Time to let this one stew and find nothing new. Some
scenes only rub more slat into your mood. Suburbist can
only accept this drudgery, give up all ambitions and cry:
"Sometimes this place has nothing left to offer.
Sometimes I feel like I don't exist. I load it up and
follow it through, then pick the shrapnel from my foot.
My friends can try and analyse but when all is said and
all is done - sometimes being here just isn't fun." The
station's a good place to sit and make a face at the
commuters as they board for the city. Suburbist won't fit
there, where all he hears is foreign dialect and only
some shades of grey. I find it hard just making sense,
let alone trying to keep a clear head. Sit back, enjoy
this way of life for all the beauty it denies.
Lonely no? Like me. But somehow cant. I'm incapable
remember? And you my little police officer. Angry little
heart. You think everybodys wrong. Covered ground. This
songs been done to death, but one little persistent voice
sings over the choir in my head. It sings but its still a
mess of words. Bad journalist. You were never there. You
only covered what you heard. You've heard it all. You
know even more. Or less. Rest assured, rest assured. You
havent learnt a thing. But all those things you kinda
miss. Things that you always hated. Life-giving arteries
that were clogged have now since split. What can you do?
Just let them bleed . . . until everythings deceased. The
distance is increased. The puzzle is unpieced. My bully
is finally teased. I cant ever tell you anything again.
Straining muscles on next-time smiles. Sorry, got to fake
it. But I wont care. I'm incapable remember? And you my
little police officer. Angry little heart. You think the
worlds against you. But you are really against the world.
This long black ribbon has us all tied up. Were just fish
swimming down the same old noxious stream. Coasting down
a needle of man made worth, kept in check by a blur of
white lines and a digital clock. But amongst the verbal
abuse and collars laced with perspiration, rises a
slender neck shapely perfection. I can see her . . . Her
wet hair pulled back. Those glasses make her look serene.
And for a minute there everything was glistening. Where
does she got to work? Is there still sleep stuck in those
lashes? Is there coffee on her breath? Oh, what the hell
I she singing? Cutting me off at 90 k's. She's cutting
in. Does she even know I'm there? Well, if she does, shes
not indicating. Im always in the blindspot. Shes gonna
win this one with mirrors. Shes the type who wins every
race she enters. The road divides between us, we could
crash at any moment. A final glance. Its as if she was
never even there. Where does she go to work? Will I see
her again tomorrow morning? I dont want to have to think
about where I am going. Give me a reason to concentrate
on this godforsaken traffic tragic figures chiselled our
of their own affairs.
Yesterday you said goodbye and turned and walked the
other way without any reason or explanation. Is what I
see before me a hallucination? I should have seen it
coming. Im not perturbed by the fact that you see me as a
disgrace. I need the confidence to take a stand and put
you in your place and wipe that stupid smile of your
face! So different, I always thought that part was
insignificant but still you deem the problems as no
accident and thought my fucking attitude was ignorant or
was that just bland? I see you run, I see you hide, you
breath so soft and talk so slight. I bet you wish Id let
things lie but Im just warming to the fight. I see you
standing alone on the cold city street as you reach for
the phone. The bottles run dry, the tear in your eye you
realise now that I tried . . . how I tried?
Shes desperately clinging to me (her technicolour
rattle). She never outgrew the need for a pair of arms to
cradle her. Shell never let that security of a blanket
slip away . . . Not yet anyway. Its just talking and
making fun of us with the others, with your mind blotted
like ink spilled on white paper. And draped over me like
some kind of fallen curtain running your nails up and
down my back in front of everyone . . . no not in front
of everyone. Not here. Not now. You make me feel so
awkward. And tomorrow youre going to pretend that you
don't remember saying unconvincing things to me, begging
me to come out. I can't believe you were on your knees in
front of the car and crying out. Listen, could you do a
favour for me, without actually mentioning my name? Your
reply was No I just think its who ever is there at the
time. Why is it always the wrong time? I cant believe how
you let yourself down.
It's just not working out
It's not what I expected
It's not you, it's me
I'm setting you free
You'd look better with somebody else
I'm really sorry
I dont get on with your friends
(I'm nothing to savour)
It's the same problem we had last week
(I'm doing you a favour)
I miss every call for boys night out
You're lucky I'm leaving
Newspapers, odd hours and shoulders breaking. Years of
wear working in cold arthritic. Acceptance to a point
when it could be handled but it gets too much too soon
too much and then starts snarling. Worked so hard for so
little . . . so honestly. And this honest man looks
through the can (and even though he could never be) a sid
long glance at his life and he says to me, I shoulda been
a thief. Friends are not just voices on a carbon
microphone. Tired all the time, blanked eyed and sleeps
alone. Children uncontrolled . . . well theyre only
children. Im a simple man and I need my glass because I
get so sad now so easily Screen, give me a break I need
in my life, entertain me, tell me whats happening in
other peoples lives. But the tube just laughs and it
makes it harder. The tube just laughs as I watch my
father. Slump in the chair, tries to forget his cares but
the producer just laughs and packs it on tighter. No
movie matinee just crooked clichs. Dad jumps out of his
chair and he says Look what the bastards are getting away
with A $19 million handshake to retire to a 25 year old
wife with. 45 years spent in a cold cell and now I don't
have shit. Ah its just not fair is it? Its just not fair.
Look, you always said, Don't let it bring you down its
only castles burning. Its only the producer pulling you
in. Don't get sucked in.
The sun had just sunk beyone any Melburnians line of
vision, leaving the sky a sick, grey orange and fading.
And fading . . . Small, even greyer blocks clutter this
littered landscape smouldering like a dying fire. The
bridge descends into the ask to be lost amongst the man
made misery. Built out of want? Or out of greed? Westgate
Bridge, were you built out of need? I ride this
connection. I dont like what I see. I always swore I was
going to bypass it all. And now look at me yeah Im lost
in it. Heres your jacket. Heres your task. Heres your
payslip for which you worked so hard. Heres a life that
so many people wanted you to avoid. Avoid, avoid, avoid.
Well, I think I found a reason why punk accepts success
(yeah right). Yeah, I can see what a tragedy living for
the weekend really is when all that I remember of Sunday
morning is yawning. 8am on that Sunday and I haven't even
sobered up yet. And it was raining . . . But it doesnt
just rain here, no. The atmosphere has a grudge to hold
all its own. And it shows on the faces of those who work,
rest and breathe. And its arm has grown long indeed. Even
now it reaches out and is coldly touching me. Im not so
far away from where that bridge first hits the ground.
Follow my rules, sign to my club, pay the initiation fee,
conform to a non-conformity. Guidelines are set to draw
over and cover with obscenities. That is, of course, as
long as theyre not mine. Were policing prepare to do the
time. Nowadays I look down upon more everyone. Their
first concern is fitting in where flattery is just an
insult. Boycott those friends you play with and how many
units are you shifting? My ways better, believe me! I
should know Ive been here two years longer than you. So
go back from whence you came.
Cold. The kind that seeps into your marrow. The kind that
creeps into an old car on a clear night. A clear night.
The kind that makes you kill for that unspecific anyone.
Finally, because you know it has been too long since you
felt someone elses skin. I just want to touch her. In a
quiet still coldness that settles onto every blade on the
ground and into every pore of your skin. But all you want
is the warmth. You dont care how you get it. You're both
lying on the floor, soon to be asleep or leaving youre
the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. Now you
get philosophical and you preach to yourself about fate.
You walk out onto the street, do nothing about it and go
home because its getting late and because shes drunk on
screwdrivers (Shes been dancing and laughing and smoking
in corridors). Just forget it, because last time you did
this you just woke up sore. In a quiet still sadness that
is all too familiar because of expectations because of an
over-active imagination. All you want is the warmth. You
dont care how you get it. But all you get is a sad
disappointment that is all familiar because of
expectations because of an over active imagination you're
the furthest thing from her mind at the moment and theres
not a lot you can do about it.
I'm tired of being your guinea pig over and over. Just
mark down that i did bad and end it. And be sure to tell
your herd how I can't string words. I fail to see the
point in throwing words 'round endlessly. I recall us by
the pool - you felt my arm and I felt a fool. Cut to the
part on my getaway bike. Another case to tell psychling
down the steep descents. Scaling the schools wire fence.
I fail to see the point of keeping unpleasant company. If
I come around it wont be through a slapped face. Don't
jump the gun 'cause this ones not about the drinking. I
can live without it. I'm just staring at my friend also
hanging his head and I fail to see the point in throwing
words round endlessly 'cause all I see is the same ending
to a different story.
Why? You ask me how could I do it to my best friend.
Sorry I dont have an answer for you, I dont have an
answer for myself. She seemed so appealing at the time
that you were thrown to the side. Youre out of the
picture, thats all I knew; maybe I took you the wrong
way. Call me stupid, call me what you want and that you
have (yeah, that you have). Threats of physical force
dont scare me but the silence cuts the deepest. We were
friends and now ignore the situation, each other,
everything. Its over now, three months and I wake up (I
wake up). What a waste of time, three months with a girl.
Ten years of being friends wasted for what? A good
fucking question, so now can we talk? I tried but still
you ignore me. Time has prevailed and youve swung around.
Came to our house and said Hello once again, well its
been a long time, how you been? The band is going cool,
thats good so is mine. Well maybe we can play some
fucking time.
Nine bourbons refuse to pick me up to bring me down, and
so I try for ten. One of those nights where I know I am
only as good as the size of my enemies. Unapproachable by
default. Take me with a grain of salt. A poor excuse for
attention, a student sent to detention for not submitting
homework given. For allowing you to leave. Keep the
window slightly ajar. Cut me free, distract the guard.
Humour me, lie to me, pretend to take me seriously. I
think theres more to this. My moneys on a mistake. Ill
sit and wait and pass the time, whatever it takes to
change a mind whoever minds. When all patches have been
sewed well have no holes to fall in. Elbows tilted, hips
adjoined, well drink to this solution. Humour me, lie to
me, pretend to take me seriously. Maybe its a tried tale
and our enemies will always grow in size. Maybe were
rehearsing for the second time, that last until we die.
Fuck you if youve heard this all before. Dont ask me
whats wrong? If I dont talk. If I'm quiet then its
because I dont want everything to fall down. Seem every
time I force air through my throat wrong things sound
you know Im trying too hard to be myself but it just
isnt me. Its dishonest. Honest. Oh, honestly . . .
Don't believe the things I did last night - got caught
up in the flood of lights and friends and trends and
selfish gripes. Was I listening to anything I was
saying? No. Sick of going home and banging my head
against the wall. Sick of my own voice (and sick of
writing it all down). Sick of putting up with this
plane of thought. Finding that it really wasnt what I
thought it was at all. You can cry now. You can cry and
whinge and sob and complain. And you might try to shut
your mouth because it all seems better that way. But in
all truth youre going to be a fool in somebodys eyes
anyway. Unbelievable. Someone sits down next to me on
this tram and starts talking openly about how your
thoughts arent really your own (how did she know, how
could she have known?) So I listen amused by her
sincerity because this concept had been rushing through
my head all week. Her facial expression got the better
of me. The conversation bordered on theatrics: Look at
them she said indicating the occupied seats Theyre
unhappy with where they are going on this tragic old
street . . . unloading all the negativity that they
bring. I know because I used to feel the same when I
worked on one of these things. And I know she believed
every word she said, but was she peddling someone elses
ideas? Look, heres the card of the place that satisfied
me (she was) Perhaps she would have made more sense if
she has of said plainly to me: Fuck you if you've heard
this all before . . .
Forgte all your scribblings. Just take each word like a
day. One at a time. Take a single minute - alone like
solitaire. There's never enough of those minutes . . .
and games can have no end. Since I took that job, time
has fought and flown away from me. The weeks are short
but the days are long. You puzzle over it while you are
there and you continue on while you're at home. Thousands
of little jigsaws. Games can have no end. Careering down
the cables and smashing itself into pebbles - the ocean,
it's electrons. It means nothing really, it's just a
relative thing. So why do these days take so long to end?
Passed by those silhoutted power lines again. they just
stand in one spot year after year after year. They don't
seem to mind. They don't seem to care. They were born
with help and now they are instantly boring adults. I
don't want to be like them. Even those power lines have
got to come down sometime. It's just a question of when .
. .
Ill spend this day in reverie, I wont focus on anything,
I dont have to, I dont feel the need. Look at the others
with contempt or is it envy? Ill stand in your room and
all I can make out are the corners. Its enough to let me
know where I stand its the barest minimum to function but
Ill be good, I promise to do better. Some things are
forgotten, other things matter. Something else is always
proving far too strong. I guess Ive been a window gazer
all along . . . . See the sparrows fly in low . . . There
was a place you said you would take us, Can we go please?
. . . Spent the day in societys refinery, unable to focus
on anything. Theres too much here, too many people, only
way out lies through a major arterial. You remember when
we talked about our beloved escape, a place without all
the shuffle and scrape and lack of philanthropy. To where
theres more trees than cars and leaves have been dried
out by the sun . . . Ill spend this day in a reverie, I
wont focus on anything, I dont have to, I dont feel the
need. This is the closest that Ill come to relief. But
Ill be good I promise to do better. Some things are
forgotten, other things matter. Something else is always
proving far too strong . . . I guess Ill remain a window
gazer from now on.