Clowns Lie

08-06-2014 Sunday (Whitsun)

Mum and I went on another shopping spree and it was totally wicked. We went to Camden and this is really special, because Mum hates it there. Well, actually, hated, because she seemed to be enjoying herself yesterday. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. And we even bought a great pair of jeans there and a very cool hat sort of thingy.20140609_090126-1

I won’t be allowed to wear it at school, but I think I’m going to wear it a lot in my leisure time. Shopping really cheered me up a lot. Dad had a great surprise for Mum when we got home. Even though he didn’t have to he did all the chores that were on Mum’s list. He had even made a great dinner. Well, Mum and I both suspect him of having ordered it and then presenting it as if it was homemade. Actually, we were pretty sure, Mum found some of the boxes in the bin outside. She didn’t say anything about it, though. I did.

Mum said,’ Wow, honey, you’ve really outdone yourself.’

Dad (stammering a little),’ Yeah, I found one of your cookbooks, and I though it looked really easy.’

Me,’ Ohw, you mean the Yellow Pages!?’

Stephanie told me that breaking up with Evelyn might just inspire me to write great things. Here’s an even that was really inspiring (maybe it was the combination of the event and the break-up). While walking through the city last yesterday Mum and I saw this really creepy looking street artist dressed as a clown. He called himself ‘the Great Zucchini’. He wasn’t that great though. From the looks of it he had drunk too much and the only thing funny about him was that he kept falling off of his unicycle. It looked to me as if he had come straight from a horror film. Mum told me the clown reminded her of the book ‘It’ by S. King. She said she has never been able to finish it, because it is dead scary. I haven’t read the book and if this clown resembled the clown from the book, I’m not going to read it either.
After he had given up trying to ride his unicycle he started a juggling act. He couldn’t even keep one ball in the air, let alone five. It was pathetic. Then he said he was going to drink some of his ‘magic water’, because that would probably make things go better. His so-called magic water looked more like booze to me and it smelled like it, too. I have no idea why we kept watching. Maybe we were somehow waiting for a trick to go right for a change. He held five balls in his hands, three in one and two in the other. He was building up tension by pretending to throw them up in the air, a radio behind him was playing Oh Fortuna, he murmured something about being the best juggler in the world and when he felt that the tension had reached a maximum he threw all five balls high up in the air at the same time. He caught none.

All this inspired me to write the following. It’s called Clowns Lie.

So bored by the faces
I know what they’ll do
The world will be laughing
They haven’t a clue
Just a few; happy few
Know the truth; they know why
I’m not laughing but sobbing
For clowns they all lie

Clowns they lie

Enough of the laughter
What’s wrong with the show
Some may find it funny
I’ve got class, don’t you know
Just a bunch have a hunch
What’s cramping their style
‘Cause clowns have been know
For all of their lies for quite a while

Clowns they lie

Come down here to float
They all float down here
On a bottle of whisky
On a bottle of beer
Come down here to lie
They all lie down here
On a bottle of whisky
On a bottle of beer

Now there’s a universal truth
That you just can’t deny
One day you will find out
That clowns they all lie
Just a few know it’s true
They can tell by the nose
It’s red from the booze
‘Cause that’s how it goes

Clowns they lie

 

Good night and see me tomorrow.

A Little Tit For Tat

19-04-2014 Saturday

Why was it again that people got married? Love? According to the Everglots (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gstRzkg8ZX0) ‘liking’ each other has nothing to do with marriage. ‘Marriage is a partnership; a little tit for tat,’ is what Mrs Everglot thinks and sometimes I fear that she might just be right. Especially when I look at the marriages in my own family. I guess Mum and Dad’s relationship is not very different from the Everglots (though they look a lot better), at least as far as I can see. Don’t ask me about their bedroom adventures; I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Nobody wants to know these things about their own parents, right? I hope this didn’t make you think about your own parents … sorry.
Today, as a complete surprise, Uncle Jonesy visited us to talk about his divorce. Dad said he smelt of alcohol, but I think it was the open bottle of Johnny Walker in Jonesy’s hand that Dad smelt, but I’m not an expert in these things. Dad let him in, but I somehow wish he hadn’t. Jonesy tripped over a threshold that wasn’t there and fell on the ground. Luckily he broke his fall with his face. Dad called Mum who was upstairs doing Mum stuff,’ Jonesy dropped by to see you!’ Mum yelled back,’ Let him in, be right down.’ So Dad looked at Jonesy, who was still lying on the floor more dead than alive,’ Come in, she says and then he called up to Mum,’ He’s in!’
When Mum came down Jonesy was still lying on the floor, but he had curled up into some sort of foetus position. He was stammering something about love and wedding vows and kids, but it was mainly inaudible and sounded very childish. Dad said something about rebirthing, but I didn’t understand. It must have been very difficult for Mum to sympathise with Uncle Jonesy. Not only because he had been drinking a little, which made it a little harder to communicate with him, but also because everybody in our entire family was jumping for joy when they heard about the divorce; Nora was – and still is – not really very popular. While Jonesy was crying his eyes out, Mum was doing the very best she could to calm him down and tell him how sorry she was for him and how she wish they could sort out their problems and stay together.  
Mum doesn’t want them to stay together; I know that for sure. Just the other day I overheard her say to Dad,’ Good riddance to bad rubbish’. Here she was telling lies to poor ol’ Uncle Jonesy and she was getting away with it, too. I know of a person who’ll not be getting any Christmas presents this year! It’s too late to tell the Easter Bunny now, but Santa will hear about this. Mum’s lies weren’t of any use, anyhow, because each time she said something like,’ You can work this out,’ or ‘Everything will be just fine.’ Jonesy started screaming like a little kid,’ Noooooo, it’s not, nooo. Go away!’ 
After an hour Jonesy stuck his thumb in his mouth and fell asleep, right there, in our corridor, on the floor. That’s when Mum finally gave up. Dad had already given up. He gave up right after Jonesy had tripped over an imaginary threshold. I hadn’t even started anything yet, so nobody could call me a quitter. Mum walked into the room and closed the door behind her. For a couple of hours life went on as if Jonesy wasn’t here. We started watching a film and then another one. Halfway through that film the door opened, Jonesy walked in smelling even worse than before – I think he shat himself – and he said,’ Has anybody seen my house? I’m sure I left it here this morning.’ Mum took him upstairs and put him under the shower. I felt kind of sorry for him at that point but I no clue as to what I could do so I made him a drawing of smiling chicken. I guess we could all use a smiling chicken these days. 

I’m off to bed. I’ll look into this rebirthing thing in the morning, it sounded quite interesting. See me tomorrow (not too early, because it’s quite late already)

The Hobo (Not Any More)

The smell of lovely coffee
Lovely tea, lovely morning
Lovely lady at the station platform 2
Do you have cigarette for me
A light, no lady thank you
I don’t smoke anymore, you see

Not any less either
I don’t smoke any more
Not any less either
No, I don’t smoke any more

Can feel the days get longer
Longer nights, let’s linger longer
Cup a coffee at the station platform 2
Would you like to buy a beer for me
You don’t have to open the bottle
I don’t drink anymore, you see

Not any less either
I don’t drink any less
Not any less either
No, I don’t drink any less

Can smell the caffeine
A diet coke, cocaine, benzene
A bunch of geezers at the station platform 2
Walking up and down ignoring me
Although they are passing by
They’re not alive anymore, you see

Not any less either
Not alive any more
Not any less either
No, not alive any more