الخميس، 3 يونيو، 2010

Bootsale

I hit one bullseye, and two of the bulleye's outer rim, in green, that night down the pub, during Eurovision 2010...I played well, but after tasting a beer, I found it impossible to complete the games, after finishing at 12, and then at 2, I had to hit an odd to win...darts starting bouncing off the blackboard, and spiking into the wooden floor...too violent...

I got up 5 minutes before the mentally disabled in my house were going off to the BootSale, past the motor-way, I got changed and signed for my 5 pounds, I had an extra 7 pounds in my pocket...Got my FreePass, and  we got on the bus, over the road and after two stops, we walked into a country lane, and further, past, big piles of yellowy-red stony earth, full of small and big, blue sparkling pools, Canadian Geese were popping up their long black necks, and spying over the edges of the pools...I wanted to hide behind a quarry pile, and dip my feet in the waters...Police...

I lost the disabled's group, and after spending 6 pounds, sat down in the shadow of a van, and read a book, by Jean Rhys, called Good Morning, Midnight...about a woman going mad in Paris, I mean, losing her mind...It's the first classic I've read in a long-time, it's generally classics that I read, because I like to show off my library, to those ghosts...A fat man in NHS glasses, on a disabled-scooter stopped in front of me;

"Hello? Are you a pervert?"

"Hi, I saw you playing guitar, there's one for 3 pounds a few places back!"

"Oh, thank you, no, er, go away!"

"Yes, thank you, thank you..."

I began walking back down the lane, planning to get weight off me, because I cant fit in my trousers, carrying a bag stuffed full, including two cushions, for free, blue and white, and a sudoku game for M. I was planning to lose the disabled group, and sit in the pub with the book, and a beer, at the pub on the corner of the motorway...too late, they caught me just at the gate...The Jamaican in charge, he took the idiots way, people in charge of me, are usually verrrrrrrrrryyyy slow-thinking, and the work-ethic is lax. It gets me pissed, I get so busy, I'm usually just walking around quickly, stamping my feet. We lost two people. Well, the idiots way, it was, instead of crossing the road to the bus-stop, or crossing the road, to go the sweet way, under the motorway, through the subway, we walked on a dirty, narrow dusty path, under tree, to the first part of the junction, at the edge, speeding cars, and huge lorries, we had the Indian girl with us which was a problem, he didn't think of, that she would. walk. very. slowly. There was also, a fat man, on a speed scooter, driving along the narrow skuffed-up dirty path, who got stuck on the corner, by a bush, he also, had, a small tent-like, two wheeled carriage, pulled at the back by a long piece of metal or by rope, and in it, was a kid of about five years old. We left him, and ran over the four laned motorway, quickly...the Indian girl stumbling...I stopped at the grassy verge, and sat down, waiting to go to the pub across the road...the fat man walked past, he was in the middle of the road, dragging the electric scooter behind him...

It wasn't far to get back, one bus stop, but the Jamaican guy, had stopped at the bus-stop...there were a gang of kids there, one of them, a girl of about 15, began talking about a dirty film she had seen...I tried to climb a tree behind the stop, and had dreams of police-men, trying to find someone who was in a tree. then I leant on the bin, opposite the Indian girl, I looked at her, and for some reason tried to kiss...we went into soul..."Why??! Did I try to kiss? This is too mean! You're too Ill!" Her eyes changed, the irises changed from brown to dark green...that's me...

I began walking, she followed me, I thought, to do something cool or silly, so I kicked a bottle around and she passed it back, I was about to try my special lob, toe under the end, to hit it through the air, but it kicked out in front of a truck, and in seconds I thought not to, otherwise I'm going to be squashed.

I loved playing football, and also cricket when I was a baby. I play in Heaven, for a team called Yerusahalym...A 39 yard goal? Is that right? I can't remember my dreams, anyway, I told her that...And that's it, I got chucked out of the other pub, bought a Chinese and wrote this! The tajweed, replyed, I have to pay a lot of money, but it didn't actually tell me, if I had a place!!

I'm, also getting free single bananas at various stalls, picked up pennies from the ground, more and more appearing beneath, which let off an odd smell, I'm saving money for:

a MUSLIMAH, t-shirt or hoodie,

an animated DVD of the Koran, and Habil and Qabil...but hate the market seller, all dressed in black traditional clothing, he has a mousy brown beard, but a little accent, he also sells, Satan Evocation films...I'm meeting a lot of white-men like this, in this area, but why do I think it's hate? Is that my hate?? Is that I dont like see-ing white, esp. white red-heads in cloth. That men are too wide?

THE RESTAURANT! There is an arabic restaurant walking distance, selling, only SWEETS!!
Those Turkish Delight sweets, the jellies, all different coloured jellies and flavours...I forget;;;

oh, I forget

So this is just a interest, no description

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