Epigrams of April
Epigrams of April
A blister is a balloon to a bee, a place to frolic and reflect.
All adverts are designed to mind-fuck children.
The universe is bigger than Jesus but you’re better than that.
Belt up, we’re going for a ride. Second thoughts, get out – we don’t need you.
No matter how high they build the walls, how strong the fences, I’ll stay where I am reading the paper.
Mercy is a virtue found only in the bastards whose power makes it a possibility.
A mouse is to a cat what whiskey is to a folk singer.
If you do that three more times I’m going to kill you.
I’d be a world leader if they let me. I’d live on a plane and attempt to have barbecues banned. I’d fire a rocket at Bono. I’d dig a trench around Luton.
I can forgive anything but wanton acts of Christianity.
When all the lights go green I’m gonna be on my belly in the bushes.
The awful thing about being so beautiful is the terrible loneliness, don’t you think?
In hotels I turn the television to face the clock-radio and make them fight it out.
When jogging, slow down to a walk when passing other runners and call them cunts. If they run after you – all the better.
When the wind has passed you by it tells the rain you’re ready.
I lie in bed most nights worrying about you. Are you happy, do you breathe easily?
But that minute passes and I turn to thinking about drink and girls and the bright, bright lights of success.
There are angry chefs and obnoxious models, thuggish footballers and petulant entertainers but there are no sad poets or unsatisfied postmen. I think I have the wrong subscription.
Reading is no education without writing.
Every rock and roll suicide that goes by I try to imagine Paul McCartney contemplating the razor blade. He’d surely find a ditty in it.