still bitter after all those years...

the current-ish vogue of social networking coupled with looking up old friends from the past has occupied my mind of late. it really is a good feeling getting back in touch with people who actually meant something to me in the dark and distant past, and a nicely designed and functionally over-capable website like facebook makes the whole keeping-in-touch thing as enjoyable as it should be.

however like most - if not all - people, there are the undesirables to keep a watch out for; people who for one reason or another i'm glad to see the back of, and have wiped clean the memory of the shared space we inhabited. there are people i'm glad to see, people i'm ambivalent about, and people i have no inclination to cast eyes on ever again. this poem was written in relation to a member of that last group...

Not My Bag

out moded and out dated
eclipsed by fashions from different times
well here's a true story -
we don't wear it well.
it's not our bag.

Looking headlong into my mind
can you tell if i care yet?
spare me bloody violence
and hold your cursing tongue -
i'm not ready for you yet...

we know that you know but won't let it go
keep on rocking...
we can wait.


Apr 2001

as is probably obvious (computers, internet, poems, etc) i've never felt that i've had any cool to speak of, preferring to stay within my comfort zone (while mocking true geeks of course). not my bag isn't especially cool, and it certainly suffers from a certain person-retention (is it me, us or them?), but each time i read it i see me leaning against a wall, all fake nonchalance and dismissive hand gestures. unlike many of my other idiot-inspired diatribes, this one doesn't say fuck you. it says whatever...