Monday, March 5, 2012

Hypocrisy and Shame

I wrote that title so you would read this. First I want to share a poem that I penned on the train this morning. A most original title : Writing on the train. So, without further ado;

Writing on the train

between a solid wall of black
and a flying blurry forest
I write
Oh hello, person sitting next to me
peering over my shoulder trying
to catch a glimpse of what I’m doing
just in case I’m
a famous writer
yes. yes I am.
I see you blushing
Now you know that I know that
you know
you may as well
keep reading

in the tunnel now
solid black surrounds me.
One side the corporate world
One side the gloom that never sees the sun
Both equally dark. Symbolic.
Deep. Let’s reflect on that a little.

A butterfly peeks through
a gap.
flitters it’s wings above the collar
uncurls antennae to test the air
deciding it’s
safer to hide.

And here is Wellington
in all it’s glory
arrayed in golden splendour.
The towering turrets preceded
by glistening waves
verdant hills embrace
sapphire waters.
A gentle mist hangs
softly around Somes Island
and a ferry cuts a sharp angle
across the harbour

The train carriage empties out
as fast as a bucket
with a hole, dear Liza
and another day in the city
is begun.

Second: hypocrisy. I have a confession to make. I bought clothing at Glassons today *blush* *hangs head* *scratches self awkwardly* *shuffles feet* *Ahem!*

Every sprout of individuality in my heart curled up and died as I walked past rows of cardigans, Miss60’s dresses, and repeated colour schemes (I later resusicated them by walking in bare feet down Lambton Quay). I’m an op-shop snob. Sometimes I even see something in SaveMart that looks cool until the tag tells me it’s from Glassons (or, even worse, Supre) . No way am I buying something that 50,0000 other girls will be wearing, that is seriously uncool. Like, you know, whatever…

My dad is super impressed by my ability to put together a ‘snazzy outfit’ on a budget. Now, Pops is no fashion expert by any stretch of the imagination (you say the word ‘trendy’ and he goes running), but I think it’s kind of nice that he’s proud of his little baby’s dress-sense. So, now you see the heights from which I have fallen, I will explain – I needed black tights. Plain, basic,simple, common, black tights. And so I went to Glassons. I will not backpedal on my preference for second-hand treasures, but I thought I should give credit where credit is due. I can’t just turn up my nose in contempt of all things Glassons and then expect them to help me out in my hour of need. No. Right here, right now, I will admit that GLassons does very good black tights. Well pretty good. Enough said. That is all.

And finally we come to shame: I bought clothing at Glassons today (oh, wait, that was the last one…my bad) I was given a free DVD today, that was very cryptic in it’s marketing and cover information. The most I could deduce was that it contained graphic content, was endorsed by a number of recognisably Christian names, and it guaranteed to change my life…

OK, actually too sleepy to finish this tonight. I was going to have an early night, but I had to write. It’s a compulsion I tell you. we’ll talk more about shame tomorrow. G’ Night folks!

1 comment:

  1. I want to hear about shame. Can we hear about shame? Apart from my shame at my Glassons shoping plans, that is.