Speak for Britain!

terrace 2

I was thinking real as in real property –– ‘fixed’
just as the gut is a fixed allotment above the legs
(you might call them chattels), and thus to the
resonant slogan “real” (traditional sense) as
something that is grounded /stolid as against
the fluid ministrations of the imagination which
(I need hardly say) a seam-ripper like me would
call the realest real.

“The nap did me good. I likes to say it like 
Quasimodo saying ‘the bells made me deaf.’
Makes um laugh. More than your real/real (it’s
real they say) ever could do. Tiptoe on me tough
clown shoes I can see for miles, but I likes
to sit while they all around and away move me
as a receiver/loser of money an that. I can’t sit still
(got the hippy-hippy shakes). No really.”

Yes the socio-political axis: allegory of axis
being a terraced street where all front-
doors open outwards. Pedestrians risk slam-
dunking. Sale of pedestrian horns and door
wing-mirrors. Do you like my new lightness?
I mean to symbolise the private domain as
injuring insult to public transit across
the cold crust. The moving as the imagination?

“Bit dark in here mind.  Born in a terraced house 
and now only the bosses can afford one. I likes
to say that like ‘Oi be protected an’ oi be starvin’.’
Bit crowed out here mind. On the buses too.
I mean dark in this flat-share. An crowded
an all.”

Your light is going out. I can lift your spirits.

“Well I got a good old laugh from your “Ph.D. 
in creative writing.”  Can you help me onto
one of those? I like to say that like
“Giz a job.”  No better “Giz some money
an some of that mindfulness-by-the-book.” 

 

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.Jim Russell
Image: Claire Palmer

 

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