One evening in a pub

While they both were having their pints and I having mine.
You say – I will be alright – say – yeah – everyone else – you know what I mean….... text …. I mean ..… no reply ….. no answer ……. duck duck duck ….. many times ….. rhythm in ……. duck duck din duck duck din ….. (this pause lasts for say five minutes) … no man …….. after chattering for 5 – 10 minutes, they have been silent for more than 15 minutes …… the woman goes to loo, the man sits here alone - and I think I should help him, look at his face and oh, he doesn’t looks pitiable at all. Plus he is thumping his leg to the music, some stoopid pop song of which I can make out only one word and that is beautiful, which she just keeps repeating….. asshole takes out his cell phone – oh, I should take out mine too …. ok let’s leave it to them and stop. and look outside the window and try to feel as if I don’t care. Oh no, feel.. hey that guy went out to loo but the woman looks sentimental, angry, …... lets leave it here, and try concentrating back to the window. Concentrate? What the fuck……. Just be yourself, calm down, put your phone on the table, expect your phone call from Cervantes, and most important enjoy – what if you got only a window.

I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good...

Pearl Jam, Yield

Today the harmless London suburban yobs reminded me of Altrincham - an extension of Manchester where I used to live a few months back. Every Wednesday (or probably Thursday, in case I am wrong) the town’s local newspaper used to find its way through my door’s brassy letterbox groove. At one such instance, the full front page of this newpaper was dedicated to the passport sized pictures of some eleven or fifteen young men. Relatively new to the town, I was intrigued. Here we go - the new local football team! Looks like a young one this time. But then! After a sustained look I find that all these faces have a slightly different expression. And then I read the large roman fonts, which I had clumsily missed earlier, explaining that the people shown is a list of law offenders who were failing to turn up in the local court. Chiefly, for petty crimes, therefore, ‘at large’.
Disappointed I was now - not with the boys (yes, literally boys) in the photographs, but with this sensation intended front-page scoop. How could, how could, in a small community like this the ever-righteous judges, these ever-critical journalists and the ever-responsible police could easily go ahead with publishing something like this? Isn’t this a little harsh and a lot insensitive? I thought that the whole aim of the law here was to reform a young individual than to blatantly demean him. No one is perfect, right?