Colin Hambrook is mad! / 23 April 2010
I apologise for not writing for a while. I've been falling out of trees - Oaks mostly - under the misty moon-breathe of a schizo heart.
No dwelling place where explosive smiles burp on every street corner, taking you down to where the walrus begins. And all the demons turning into butterflies. You wish!
Very little makes sense when the periodic table takes a hold of all the thoughts that trail the world forever: in peace the last upwards spilling rain, soaking the sky and telling me with a swagger that there are no holes in the galaxy next door.
They said it was real, taking my brain before it was born - and planting it on the other side of the rabbit hutch, where everything was sacred in the wide beat of wind, casting the smell of leaves in the rain.
You wouldn't have credited it, when the sea came to call and swept everything but the smile on to the edge of a motorway leading to the last aubergine. It made a strange but beautiful sound. Imagine... fresh and purple... and then no more!
"To say you're only human. To say you're just a man. What does that mean? Coz I checked it out and it's easy to be a half. A half of nothing but another man in a scarf. Avoiding confrontation don't look me in the eye... " *
You gave me cauliflower cheese and extraordinary methods for splitting the last fragment of me. It was the imprint of 'The Eternal.' Could you have written it any other way? This groundhog day; this blissful telling of war carried down the seasons - and over the hill into the house within the house.
Mirror and reflected light - never doth the two part! And all the grey doves cooing couldn't put her back together again... after the lightning shaft of E.C.T. (Electro Convulsive Therapy) hit the brain and travelled the spine... strange how mental illness always gets worse once the psychiatrists get involved... makes you wonder whether they have an investment in keeping people insane!
Meanwhile in a tin bath at the bottom of the garden, a group of sticklebacks and salamanders perished under a relentless, hot, youthful, summer sun. The sky fell down and all the echoes off all hills across all the countries of the world, landed inside your head.
Sometimes, all you can do is be mad; In the underground of it all!
*A quote from Robyn Hitchcock's 'Ordinary Millionaire' from 'Propellor Time' 2010