the highway code

tomorrow we can say tomorrow, i said.
it made sense to me at the time, but maybe it is the infinite manyana, not sweet anticipation, a signpost telling me which way my life is flowing now

a kreisverkehr of course
the world as i know it will end, the day after tomorrow, and then it will restart, almost the same as it was before. you will not notice the difference, the drag of the stylus back into the groove.
the same tune playing.
i think about what i want. i think about what i get.

i am not being fair to you in many ways. 

you always said that you had more important things than me.

i didn't want to believe it, i wanted to believe that if i only worked hard, then all the things i wanted would happen. they should, i would deserve it if only i really put my back into it.

i saw a sign the other day, in a smallish Chinese city. the lanes were marked - one for cars, the other for carts. no-one took any notice of them, and cars drove in three unofficial traffic streams across the two lanes, punctuated by weaving and swerving. a heavy handed metaphor for my life, three into two doesn't work.

but i say, tomorrow we can say tomorrow. 

instead of doing the sensible thing.

written for the anniversary edition of the >language>place blog carnival