thunder aka guruh: passingly by

passingly by
(September 25, 2003 | 12:11 AM)

there was something about the air that evening as if a certain temperament had overcome the upper reaches of the hourly routines we so inevitably fall into like water into the drain to glide and travel through curves and tunnels and grime and carcasses and plastic bags etc etc all things we we wash at the end of each cycle. wow, it has a strange luminous effect on the interior wall of this little space you got rented here i like the way the floodlights from the distance give shadows on the was when you walk pass the full window that overlooks the outskirts of this city. the ambulances are having their time of the night making every corner and block an area of grave concern and matter of life. the rhythm and beat in my knees were enticing me into some sort of unexplainable excitement that could not ever communicate to another person except being seen as a totally wired loon lurching around the water fountain but totally harmless to a fault. what else is there i look around at when i see myself standing on the sidewalks from this full window of yours eight floors up, walls so thin i suspect will bore a hole if kicked or pummeled with adequate rage or inebriated abandon. in fact i have seen many at other familiar rooms/flats/apartments in this city as the demand rises for young cramped urban dwellings to suit the context of the compacticity of your devices and tools. one fold, a click, a button. nice row of buildings here i am sure rich with history…two bars by the corner one by the name of hotel canada…two brothels, one red, one blue, just further down the same stretch….a club since now demolished where there were rumours of chemicals abound and temper flares amongst the gyrating beats to the body to the pop. weehaaa…the bouncer bounces. cars….where going to? taxis are my passing yellow spirits roving like scars. what else does this evening i am recalling bring to mind…hours later maybe was more full of fond…now it is the mere standing point i am lifted out above myself to localte my location in this strange and beautiful territory that isn’t as dangerous as the papers or people say it is but you do take extra nerves to explore the alleys that don’t have the answers only vacant spaces for all good and bad misdeeds and trading or self gratification and disposal. so many. too many. is this evening you, you ask me? i ask you back but the empty pool hall across the park(where the drunks and lovers rehearse)doesn’t have your number. no empty matchbook sleeve to write it on, no last five buck to spare you, the bar lights that lied in that song. i roam and roam it is so fun to…the soles detest but rest attests to it. move. there is this glimmer that threatens to erupt but nver does, i hope it never because that anticipation is priceless. nobody, noone can replace…

END

pix: azmyl yunor