The Penultimate.

I traipse up the hill, then down again after finishing work, to meet a friend.
I take the main streets. I walk on the road. I phone a friend.
My clammy body smells of a double shift, on my feet again, muscles sore from yoga and hospitality.
It’s a nice kind of pain. An honest one.

I dump my bag down along with my special rice + tofu I brought home from work, but no longer fancy.
I love that it’s in a brown paper bag. I love that Nhaji has come up with such a cool brand, a worthy staple. I’m proud of that bag.

I lather my legs and feet in soapy aloe vera suds, the shower runs hard and cold– I pee hot and and lithe all down my legs– I lean my head against the wall, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve done all day. Well… iIt’s hot out, I don’t use a towel to dry.

I open a beer, I spray eucalyptus and rosehip all over my carpet and mattress, then in to the fan. I sip, I sit lotus style on my bed and begin to write the second last instalment.

And all of my work goes well…


I Have Not Lingered In European Monosteries from ‘The Spice-Box of Earth.’

I Have Not Lingered In European Monosteries
and discovered among the tall grasses tombs of knights
who fell as beautifully as their ballads tell;
I have not parted the grasses
or purposefully left them thatched.
I have not held my breath
so that I might hear the breathing of God
or tamed my heartbeat with an exercise,
or starved for visions.
Although I have watched him often
I have not become the heron,
leaving my body on the shore,
and I have not become the luminous trout,
leaving my body in the air.
I have not worshipped wounds and relics,
or combs of iron,
or bodies wrapped and burnt in scrolls.
I have not been unhappy for ten thousands years.
During the day I laugh and during the night I sleep.
My favourite cooks prepare my meals,
my body cleans and repairs itself,
and all my work goes well.

– Leonard Cohen.


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