A rush and a kick

Because I used to be you, man.

Standing, in the balmy summer air, sipping on a water bottle, squashing plastic, containing a litre of decanted cornershop Merlot. Grunting. Smoking. Laughing, smiling, and feeling almost young and beautiful again. Among the in crowd, among the great and the good. I was never on the inside. Always in the borderlands.

Another band is done, another steps up. I take a minute to consider the current lay of the land, my own project, my own endeavour. Once again, moving fast, steady progress, positivity, has taken a bullet to the side and slumped into a shellhole, leaving its fate hanging by a hand from the lip, wondering if it can pull itself up.

Stop personifying circumstances. It’s not dignified, boy.

I get some go again, and as soon as I realise I’m moving, I’ve stopped. Never bloody easy.


About dcduell

Failed musician. Trying to write for TV. Never sure quite where I'm headed. Serial un-funnyman. I used to do a lot of writing. Sometimes I still do. So I decided to put it on the internet. I'm on Facebook and Twitter. Pretty active on the former, not so much on the latter. Holler at me.
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