Trashed elbow

Days to thrive and days to survive: of late, my time seems mostly to have been composed of the latter. I've the last proper weekend I had was over three weeks ago and today I had another schedule of solid purgatory.

During the free lesson I have designated as a travel period to go to the rowdy kid's school I work at on Tuesdays, I put my head down on the desk and tuned out for a while.

As I did so, a load of memories I haven't felt in years came bubbling to the surface: a moonlit Churchyard covered in snow, the front room in Spencer Ave, the smell of wet grass at the start of Spring in England. I realised as I peeled my head off the desk to say hi to Wes that I really don't know how long it's going to be until I go back for good, but, even on days like this, it doesn't feel like it's getting any closer.

A few hours of high-pitched abuse from children of various ages did nothing to recharge my batteries. When I got back to my bike at Yodoyabashi, the rain was starting to fall and the iPod's shuffle function was matching my mood to perfection:

What I've kept with me
and what I've thrown away
don't know where the hell I've ended up
on this glary, random day
Were the things I really cared about
just left along the way
for being too pent up and proud?

Woke up way too late
feeling hungover and old
and the sun was shining bright
and I walked barefoot down the road
Started thinking about my old man
it seems that all men
wanna get into a car and go
anywhere

Here I stand, sad and free
I can't cry and I can't see
what I've done
Oh God, what have I done?

don't you know I'm numb, man, no
I can't feel a thing at all
'cause it's all smiles and business these days
and I'm indifferent to the loss
I've faith that there's a soul somewhere
who's leading me around
I wonder if she knows which way is down

Here I stand, sad and free
I can't cry and I can't see
what I've done
Oh God, what have I done?

And I poured my heart out
and I poured my heart out
it evaporated...
see?

Blind man on a canyon's edge
of a panoramic scene
or maybe I'm a kite
that's flying high and random
dangling a string
Or slumped over in a vacant room
head on a stranger's knee
I'm sure back home they think I've lost my mind...

Listening to this and feeling the cool raindrops on my face contrasting with the burning hot coals of Black Tuesday behind my eyes, a final memory surfaced of my motivated days studying English Literature in the sixth form at Finham and Mrs Guymer (one of the best teachers I ever had) talking to me about the pathetic fallacy, when she could equally well have been having a coffee with the rest of the teaching staff.

And even as this came back to me, the heavens opened up properly and I got bloody well soaked.

So much for the pathetic fallacy.

Of course, once I make it through tomorrow's Kyobashi gauntlet, I have a three-day weekend with road trip and football tournament, son!

Makes you glad to be alive and in Japan.