imperti gustaque
the bull goose loony
October 5th, 2004
Yesterday morning I picked up “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”, perhaps mistaking the photo of tousle-haired Nicholson for my hand-mirror. I’ve been reading it during bus rides and ad breaks. Of all my old favourites, why did I turn to this in my morning haze? The early chapters log in to my current mental state rather well. The mornings find me enrhumée, rheumy, sleep-doped. By day, the fug lifts but time treacles. Tranquilised under the striplights, and the Big Nurse* picks at a bloodspot, or a gravy spot, or even just a crocodile tear. Well healed Achilles am I. Future shocks and ghosts of fistbite past. De profundis, it takes such smacks to keep my brow furrowed and my mince pies tart. Wavering between such bipolar interpretations of mortification, perhaps my toes drag in watery paranoia and mild defeat, or perhaps the deluge finds centrifuge in my puddling napper, emote by rote, scalextrickery. But the McMurphy** in me is not doomed; he struts proud and pretty like a little red rooster, a wild boor, waiting for the daily leap home. What I’m trying to say is: I hate Mondays! Work is rubbish!
* Anima?
** Manimal?
Parden?
I suppose I’m becoming what I hate, and talking pseud pap. On the day I finished editing this it was National Poetry Day, or so said Pam Eyres on breakfast TV. No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be Pam Eyres, and that kills me.
No-one can ever be Pam Ayres. Even Pam Ayres wasn’t Pam Ayres. She was a spy pretending to be Pam Ayres. The real Pam Ayres died during childbirth.
You could always be Pa Meyers.
Simply become male via hormone treatment, grow a moustache, make films with balloon-breasted ladies, have children and pluralise your surname.
Actually maybe Pam is easier.
On a different note I like the fact I have to go and look stuff up after reading a rosy post : )
Only to find out if Manimal was capitalised correctly though obviously.
I’d rather be Russ Abbot than Russ Meyers. His bird has even bigger boobs.
what i dont get is, why dont those guys just leave the loony basket, they are voluntaries, god they must be crazed, ahhh, that might explain they presence in the institution
thank