How violent are you?

A bar has been recently opened here and my mind is disturbed. The boy in charge tunes the volume three sixty degrees. The iron roof shakes, the walls thud and my chest thumps at the du du du. Here though I cannot get the music, there is a groan bass that is felt destroying the sweet evening nap from a disappointing day.

I have a home theatre that does not go past volume one. The Tv is at 20 from 100. Earphones I keep at the 'recommended volume'. What remains? I only ring the bicycle bell when there is no clear path or else a pedestrian sees a silent ride passing swiftly. Talking is regulated. And the people I talk to are few. The larger part of the day is in moving from here to there, getting this and that and coming back to lonely read. If a friend drops by impromptu at the middle of reading, I go gogo.

It doesn't go that I go out dressed for the day. From the bath, having soaked the towel wet to get hair dry, I touch not the combs despite having them three. I love it shaggy, with a T- shirt and a short. Open shoes are comfortable for the feet. Lips get dry often and elbows that never receive enough jelly quickly grey out. Out I go sometimes forgetting to carry a coin.

I cycle speedily and kids go wa! Ona! Weuwee! on the road. I node my head to the classical Beethoven in the ears. On the bike I think about my life whether I am on the track or not. I think of the program I watched the other day. I think of a woman. I cherish youth hood. I curse self. It is still alright when I don't get what I want. F*, I often say heartily. Capricorns curse much.

The day ending I rove back to settle and update the daily diary. Will somebody ever understand what I write? I think less. And after writing I suggest an activity for tomorrow- just enjoy the day, I prophecy. To bed, with a book, before sleep, I doubt if I ever achieved a thing in the day.