The Future Is Yesterday

_10_0013.jpg, originally uploaded by mcwmurphy.

Hello 'everyone',

I forgot that I had a Flickr account until very recently. It happens that it was about the same time I took some pictures of Scituate, MA, when I was up visiting. If I think I have some interesting photos in the future, maybe I'll slot them in here. This one I like because it's an old ticket office that is currently being restored. Interestingly, the shack is in the middle of the South River now, like an island from a forgotten American age.

Maybe I'll send this to Craig Finn

There’s often these parties
Back in West Philly
Hip kids in the basement
Listening to Pavement

They’d last all evening
We all got sick of seeing
PBRs and Chuck Taylors,
Sparks & Norman Mailer

I don’t know what I was thinking
Doing all that drinking
Wasting my time
With fortified wine

Similar to my stance
On hookups and dance
I often spent nights
Getting into fights
With my subconscious

I wouldn’t call them killer parties
They were just OK
Back in the day
When I felt so artsy

I’d head out the back door
Hit up the liquor store
Grab a forty or four
And come back for more

This made the night easier
My pickup lines cheesier
It’d almost get fun
But then you’d get off with someone

I’d call up someone else
Hoping I’d not end up alone
But that was part of the game
Things always stayed the same

I’d hate to watch the dances
Mix it in with my lost chances
But I figured out who I was
Mixing in with the cognoscenti
At age twenty

Those weird kids with beards
And emaciated wit
Were just like I feared:
Totally full of shit

No, I wouldn’t call them killer parties
They were just OK
But those were the days
When I felt so goddamn artsy.

I'm going to try to set this to words

Ode To Your Future

Do not worry yourself
About days past
And moments gone.

Time will abide,
So look back well
On what you’ve done;

O’er many roads pass’d,
Traversed in style,
You can recall.

Never allow yourself
To live through stories,
Lest you fall.

Look to the future –
And keep your head high –
And you will strive.

I’ll always be with you
Even when I am gone,
You will keep me alive.

When you pass St. Paul
He’ll greet you well
Like an old friend –

I’ll be looking up
Admiring my past life
My regards I will send

The future’s unwritten
But your fate I know
As long as you try

And love all who you meet
You’ll make a difference
And never truly die.

Whilst not paying attention in my Mozart class

When I emerge from the Tube

Covered in grey and rain,

Trafalgar rises afore me.

He seems daunting from his pillar;

With His gravity weighing down on me,

I fumble for my umbrella.

With my fustian shield

I trudge on, mentally decrepit

By Albion's lofty dead hero.