Tuesday, March 22, 2005
I wrote this while living on Bloomfield St. It really could be about almost any house I've ever lived in aside from the two homes I grew up in. It was part of a larger short story that just seems hokey now. It'll probably never get finished which is fitting.
Sometimes I lie in my bed in my unfinished house and stare at the white ceiling that was once pink. It's been hastily painted and I wonder if I will ever summon the ambition or find the desire within me to finish someone else's job properly. I know I can't be bothered. It requires too much effort, too much work, too much energy. I may some of these things, I may even have all of these things, but I have them in short supply. Well aware of it I know I'll never get around to completing someone else's job.
The lights in my ceiling were never properly installed. That's more than a bit incorrect, that statement would lead one to believe that the lights actually functioned at one point. The lights never functionned because beyond a few connecting wires they were never installed. Some previous occupant must have surveyed what they had done and decided that the completion of the job would require too much of something. Funds? Ambition? Elbow grease? Perhaps the former residents simply didn't care. The wires were installed one day and the next day they didn’t return to the task of light installation. They couldn't be bothered, they didn't care, perhaps they couldn't. I can relate to that
You try to summon the concern and you find yourself wanting.
Sometimes I lie in my bed in my unfinished house and stare at the white ceiling that was once pink. It's been hastily painted and I wonder if I will ever summon the ambition or find the desire within me to finish someone else's job properly. I know I can't be bothered. It requires too much effort, too much work, too much energy. I may some of these things, I may even have all of these things, but I have them in short supply. Well aware of it I know I'll never get around to completing someone else's job.
The lights in my ceiling were never properly installed. That's more than a bit incorrect, that statement would lead one to believe that the lights actually functioned at one point. The lights never functionned because beyond a few connecting wires they were never installed. Some previous occupant must have surveyed what they had done and decided that the completion of the job would require too much of something. Funds? Ambition? Elbow grease? Perhaps the former residents simply didn't care. The wires were installed one day and the next day they didn’t return to the task of light installation. They couldn't be bothered, they didn't care, perhaps they couldn't. I can relate to that
You try to summon the concern and you find yourself wanting.
# posted by Die Brucke @ 1:49 AM 
