The World According to... Boring John

[MySpace message: unsent]

Hi You,

I'm not coming to London this weekend!

That means I won't be able to visit you on Sunday evening; which is a pity, because I'd really have liked to have seen you again, in person. (Shit mods or no!) I'm going to arrange another visit to my friend soon, cos I don't like letting him down either. (He lives on Bellenden Rd - know it?)

Still, it's been interesting 'communicating' with you these last few weeks. Looks as though things haven't changed between us much, though; just two more of Shakespeare's players sticking rigidly to their (life) scripts, I guess.

Do you know that it's exactly two years since we last met. So perhaps we shall meet again in two more years, or never even. (Does that sound like tragedy to you? Lol). As it's Valentine's Day soon I shall buy you another red rose; but I shall keep it for meself, this time ;-)

What else shall I do, instead?

Well, I have boxes to move, rooms to reorganise, and lie-ins to indulge in. 'All go' in Yorkie-land for sure, and definitely not boring. And I might do a bit more writing (I actually wrote a new poem, don't you know - 4 lines, but still.)

So now I have to invent some cock n bull story about why I can't come and visit my mate and all his American chums.

Maybe I'll say that I missed my train due to the fact that I was kidnapped by aliens. They forced me to lie awake for several hours and relive several of the worst moments in my life, that made my face twist bitter-and-twistedly. The aliens then hid in my cupboard and played peek-a-boo with my car keys even though I just wanted to go to sleep. And when I looked in the cupboard the aliens had vanished, having sneaked into my car and driven away whilst I was obviously not looking. At the same time they made all the buses vanish too and forced all of the trains to only go from the south to the north making travelling down south, almost impossible.

Or I could just tell him I'm not coming, I don't know yet.

[The fact that I'm finally rewriting this at 18.40 on Sunday means that he already knows that I'm not coming. My friend's smart like that, though he didn't quite understand why the aliens would want to hide in my cupboard...]

Anyways, am sorry we're not going to meet; I just don't have the energy for traipsing down to London right now. (I'm not as used to insomnia as you are.)

Adios guapa

Me