Thursday, September 18, 2008

Plan for unhappiness

Grow up in the nasty blank grey of seventies, sometimes made better by the long summer of seventy-six, when the lawn cracked open like an old man's face. Or when something or other happened that was not so shit (can't remember what that was).

In the arse-end of the seventies get the end of it.

Come of age in the early eighties when most was rain and concrete, cramped vistas of little enjoy. But sometimes better when a day got lit sometimes.

Watch another recession happen in the bitter years between.

Then summer comes in the nineties. And all is well (but still difficult) and you are happy with another, for a small moment.

Then the millennium happens and it dries up, and work is just worky work, and there's one minute to the next just being.

And then there's a flash of joy too small to recompense.

And that's it.

Good enough, wouldn't have it any other way, because of friends I've met and things I've undone.

So really, the plan for unhappiness didn't work.

Because it's ok sometimes.

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