ik ben geschrokken

I'm scared. Is that right? Even if it's not, I am. I'm scared the world will soon be underwater, along with us. Not that I would mind being underwater with you, as our scuba tanks nudge lazily and our hope bubbles fly upwards towards the surface but I'm scared of that. What will be left? What's floating up there, in the new space climate, that we've made? Not us, you and me, but in a way yes, we've done it. That's what I'm scared of. What I've done. What that will do. To you, to them. To the sky, full of weird blue bubbles. Yes, I'm scared. I'm scared of men. Their world. Their bright lies dressed as ideas. They truly scare me. Down here, in the black rain, it's hard to hear them but they're here. Oh, yes. I'm scared. I have the fear. A year ago I'd have laughed at myself but now - well, what do you think? Are you scared too? The ice. Here it comes, the ice. I'm scared. The rain that makes night. The train that won't stop. The elegant mistakes, embarrassed grins. Do you copy that? What makes us scared. The questions we refuse to ask. The dreams we refuse to remember. That scares me. The planes I refused to see streaking across the desert sky. The taxes I ignored as their shopping lists slammed into a hillside. Does it scare you? The way documentaries do? I am scared of this. Of all of this. Of all of us. Of the things we pretend we don't do. We're silenced. We're instrumentals. We're not even in the band. Or on the program. But we are here. I'd rather be a solar cell. Or else invisible, a trail of smoke from my mouth the only tell-tale sign. Scared of the shadows, that's me. Scared of waking up. Are you scared yet? I am. I always have been. People call me timid. Perhaps they're scared of me too.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Gouda boy,

It's 'ik ben geschrokken'
11/02/2006 01:34:00 am
Anonymous said…
good stuff
11/02/2006 06:29:00 am
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Before ... and ... after!

Image
I got my haircut just before leaving Australia on July 1 and, until last week, hadn't had it cut since. Okay, so it's only been four months but as you can hopefully see from the image above it was developing nicely into a Steve Winwood style, with a touch of bogan at the back. Normally I keep it pretty short however and the major question was whether I would be able to stop myself from getting it cut before returning to Australia, presumably looking a little more like Tom Hanks in Castaway . I needn't have troubled myself worrying about it. Last Thursday night I got a call from an American friend named Sean, with whom I share quite a few musical tastes, and with whom I had some great conversations that night in the suitably-named Ho Bar in Hongdae, including one where we assigned 1970s bands to colours of the rainbow. Six shots of tequila, five beers and two gin and tonics later, I asked him whether he had a pair of clippers. Answering in the affirmative, he led me ba...
Read more

Tram Recovery Vehicle

Last night I was walking along Queens Parade when along came an old green tram. I think it was of the kind that they refer to nowadays as "W-Class": like the City Circle trams, only green. The tram was going very slowly, heading along Queens Parade towards Westgarth. I began to worry for the tram, due to the huge hill just the other side of the Westgarth shops. I could just picture the tram chugging all the way to the top, only to slide back down again. Then I saw a truck coming along behind the tram. Unlike the tram, the truck was all white. On its side was painted in black letters: "TRAM RECOVERY VEHICLE". My first instinct was to ask why the truck was behind the tram instead of in front, pulling it up the hill. Then I saw the huge bulldozer style front bullbar on the truck and understood: the TRV's job was to push , as well as (presumably) "catch" the tram should it lose its brakes. Kind of like a parent pushing a child on a swing. Well, not rea...
Read more