Trial and error

Strange how a song always comes.

 

Ryan Bingham, “The Weary Kind”. 
Thanks Ryan. 
Long time. 
Sorry we missed FW.

 

The week begins with a crashing laptop. 
Tool of my trade. 
Dead by Sunday. 
On the table. 

Surgeons never like that.
And I’m not a surgeon.

 

Shrugged and dialled it into Google.
Messaged a couple of friends. 
Boot surgery.
Trial and error.

Tuesday evening, better than new. 

Persistence.
“Pick up your crazy heart...”

 

Flipping.
That’s the problem. 
We’d all say that.  
Who wants to flip?

 

Saturday lunch with an old student.
Lovely man. 

 

Paddy’s Day birthday same night. 
Irish bars. 
New friends.  
Trilling girls with pints of Guinness.

Five rounds. 
I left after four. 

 

Difficult classes. 

Chemistry? 
Inexperience? 
Who knows? 
Observations. 
Reviews. 
Worst lesson for two years. 
Hoping the floor would open up. 

 

Eyeing Metro wheels.
Thinking “Who the fuck would do that?”
As the bearded man hurtles past.
Eye-to-eye.
Worn faces. 
Guiri. 
Another guiri in exile. 

 

Mother’s not so good.

N’s in Africa living the dream. 
Private joke. 
Not so private now.

 

Fin de semana. 
End of the week.
Flying tomorrow. 
Drinking tonight.

 

Ryan Bingham. 
An old acoustic. 
Tricky changes. 
(Forget the picking.) 

Singing? 
Well. 
Whatever it sounds like, nobody’s saying.

 

Friday morning. 
Conversation. 
Nice class. 
Lovely people. 
That’s the story, don’t you think?

 

Performance review. 
Could have been worse. 
My boss is alright. 
What the fuck’s wrong with the world?

 

Flip!

 

An hour ago, walking through crowds.
Damp square.
Jaywalking.
Catching eyes.
Thinking in Spanish.
Feeling at home.
What is home? 
I’ve never known the answer to that.

 

Strange how a song always comes.