As Fast As A Fish

We were quick enough to take to the generic way of life, so we were. We took to it fine and fast so we did – fine and fast. We took to it as fast as a fish, if I might say so. When you throw a live fish back into the river, how fast is he to take to the water? Fine and fast, I’m telling you. You couldn’t see anything faster. That’s how fast we are to take to the generic life – just as fast as that and with as few regrets. If I said that we never looked back then I wouldn’t be lying. I’d be telling no word of a lie.

 

Fine and fast, fine and fast. Did you ever see anything faster? Could there ever be anything faster? It makes me laugh when I think about it – it cracks me up in a big way. Here’s me sitting here with a grin so wide it’s splitting my head! It’s not a nice grin though, it’s not exactly an endearing one. Too much water has gone under the bridge for that; too many careless slips of the tongue have been made. Things were done that didn’t ought to have been done. Too many loose ends that were never tied up. I never was a great one for tying up loose ends, you see. It was never my forte.

 

Wisdom comes unbidden to my tongue, although there is many that would dispute that. Wisdom comes unbidden to my tongue and I find myself talking about chickens, owls, blackbirds, mutton-birds and starlings and how one morning it happened that I saw a pigeon and a magpie sitting side-by-side as happy as you please on an overhead power line and what this might have signified. Everything signifies something you see and so we shouldn’t rush too heedlessly through life, ignoring the portents that have been presented to us. Ignoring the portents, ignoring the portents. Ignoring those bloody old portents. Was there ever anything more foolish than a man or a woman who spends their time rushing heedlessly through life, ignoring the sombre portents that they have been presented with? Where are they rushing to, after all? What ails them that they run so fast? Whatever is on their tail that makes them scuttle down the high street with so much determination? What demons pursue them? Did you ever stop to think that? Did you ever stop to think that?

 

“So what did the portent tell you then,” you ask, “since you’re so full of guff?” You’re laughing away behind your hands. “Interpret that if you will…” you slyly say, hoping to catch me out. You’re not going to catch me out that easily though. No sir you won’t – you’d have to get up pretty damn early in the morning to do that I can tell you and I can see by the cut of you that you’re a late riser! It wasn’t really a portent you see, it was just a pigeon and a magpie sitting side by side. It was nothing more than that. What type of a fool do you take me for, anyway?

 

I’m talking to myself you see. Ruminating. Having a chat with my brain. Shooting the breeze. Running a few flags up the jolly old flagpole. The black flag of nihilism. Flagging the issues as they arise. Putting a bit of an old spin on reality, they way you do. The way you do. Making it spin faster and faster until it’s spinning like a top and making a loud humming sound. My brain is full of guff – I can’t get any sense out of it. I can’t squeeze the slightest bit of sense out of it, not now not ever. I’m strumming away on the old banjo but I can’t get a tune out of it. No sir, there’s no tune coming out of it at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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