Everybody Can Change

There is a time when folks know you so well, they never truly know you again

Near Death Experience

To feel truly alive is to have come close to death without debilitating injury or illness. A fright works a treat.

Havana

Havana. She’s like a post apocalyptic Barcelona. The Gilf of the colonised worlds. You can see she’s been beautiful, but her graceless ageing has a quality of disgrace and urgency that super charges the senses, and her once great beauty, though still evident, is, and has been for sometime, open to anyone and everyone. Like a lady of breeding sold out, accessible and tragic, but without repair or remorse, and without shame, merely flooded with a richness of character that exudes seduction and compels fascination, with at first, a little fear. There is a rhythm to Havana, and the entrepreneurial nouse of her pimps astounds as communism breeds capitalism from the ashes to which it had first reduced it. Havana is the time capsule whose seal has failed and let the salt spray in, then left to time, allows a glimpse back in to 1959, but at the same time, forward, to what could be any European City desiccated of grandeur and left to be raped of her practicalities.

A Moor Top Afternoon

The half cocked smile of nervousness plagued an insecure man as he joined his long term associates on a table sat in silence. It was half past three on a Saturday, the pub would never really get going. It was the sort of place that kept changing hands, constantly under new management as the last character was either arrested or simply disappeared. Each time the Moor Top re-opened her doors, her walls had become increasingly bare, the fixtures and fittings having depleted further, the kind of place where nobody knew anybody’s full name. Yet somehow, against all the odds, and much to the disappointment of the local rumour mill, the place never did have the latest boarding removed to emerge a Pizza Express or an Albert’s Shed. This would have been much more in keeping with the upwardly mobile aspirations, and indeed achievements of its catchment area. The man’s associates were however men of routine, they had been coming to this pub for a long time, originally for the football. It was a City pub, or at least it had been. Now they came more to feed habits or to escape their real homes for reasons that in turn had escaped them. They had sat on separate stools for years in relative silence, they probably still would be, if not for the man, their change spread out in front of them in its entirety at the bar, everything must go, except for the occasional crumpled notes which must remain firmly in one’s pocket upon departure, undetected. An evening could be measured by both punter and bar staff with a glance at a man’s neat yet order-less spread of change. Trusting for all to see, until somebody gets too close that is. The man quickly broke his table’s silence, blurting out several words at once until he found his rhythm, and with a glance at his glass, a little confidence too. Today’s topic, miniature radio controlled helicopters, again. Hidden looks of distain bounced around the man instantly, the sort of looks that are apparent within the eye of the beholders, but which are not nearly as obvious on the outside, they were as quicker reactions as one would expect from fighter pilots, they’d be lost on the untrained eye, even on one another had the topic not been broached several times already that week. The man was upbeat, possibly undeterred as a result of his excitement, or possibly as a result of some kind of cognitive thinking technique, honed over the years to preserve himself from hurt, either way, a man like him never missed a trick, just as he never let on, the lack of enthusiasm had been detected. The man would carry on regardless. After all, it was he who had discovered these little micro-flying gems in a not infrequent visit to Manchester’s Modelzone. Having already flown one in store, the man had been so impressed he’d immediately bought a job lot, along with not quite enough batteries. An enthusiast of models from boyhood, the whole radio controlled helicopter thing had always been beyond reach. Notoriously difficult to fly and bloody expensive, they were an inaccessible magic for the true model aircraft enthusiast, the fanatical. Not so any longer, the Chinese had brought them to the masses at a scale that could be flown indoors and a price affordable to an adult man. It was up to him now to introduce them to as many people as possible, people who would have certainly remained ignorant otherwise. Surely they would recognise even just a little of what he had, this was bound to be a hit with the kids and therefore his peers for that reason alone, surely this would make them all smile. It was not about glory for the man, it was about acceptance and a little recognition, about making people happy. The man once again enquired as to how his associates had faired with their families since returning home from the pub with radio controlled helicopters. The relevant gents grumbled into their glasses with strained smiles and humoured the man. It was the least they could do, to expend some energy on somebody known to them for so long, somebody who continued to make the effort so generously with them. The truth was, that out of all of them, only one still had children at home, and those particular kids had been un-interested, un-interested in their father more than anything, simply being of an age where everything other than the opposite sex, social media and intoxication was just, ‘gay.’ In a nutshell, they were too old, and too young, stuck in the middle of the hormonal misery that was home life, keeping morale beyond suicide with regular wank fests and the pride taken in being so emotional. Another recipient thought of his helicopter still hanging in the closet under the stairs from the Modelzone bag in which he had brought it home, it had actually made sense to him, until the next morning when he had awoken thirsty and sore. He however dutifully acknowledged the gesture by offering the man another drink. The man accepted a Whisky with a cube of ice, and then brought out a tiny helicopter from a polythene bag to charge on the table in readiness for flight. As the Malt went down the little helicopter lifted from the table and hovered beautifully at eye level like an android Dragon Fly. The man had been practising. He rose from his chair and walked out into the pub to start recruiting more enthusiasts. This immediately struck a chord with a bored barman who had taken receipt of a little helicopter himself. The man enquired as to whether the barman had managed to get some batteries, if not he would fetch some in next time. Indeed the barman had, and the man was genuinely over joyed to hear that after several successful flights, the barman’s helicopter had been brought down by his cat and lost a rear propeller blade as a result. The man informed the barman that if he had a good look in the helicopter’s box he would not only find a spare propeller blade, but also a strip of metal with an adhesive back, the purpose of which was to glue to the nose of the helicopter to improve flight handling. The man flew his helicopter down from above the fruit machine and skilfully hovered the aircraft in front of the barman for a closer inspection of the nose, before landing it on the bar. The barman had thrown his box away, unbeknown, so the man agreed to acquire some spares on his behalf. The man then offered the controls to the barman so as to evidence his claim about the flight handling. The barman took the controls and opened up the throttle with far too much haste, sending the helicopter climbing rapidly up until it hit the ceiling, the barman tried to steer it away causing it to bounce along the yellow anaglypta, like a moth on a strip light. The man quickly told the barman to reduce the throttle, at which point the helicopter plummeted into a pint glass. The counter reaction to which was more throttle, and the poor little machine rocketed back up, hit the roof, and then fell back down again. The man’s face was a picture of seriousness as he sought to assist his young apprentice gain control of the tiny helicopter that was by now tearing across the pub. Those left drinking took in the spectacle as it unfolded, and all heads lifted, then fell back down again with a smile. Sales stayed up that Saturday, while conversation, glasses, and a helicopter rose, then fell back down again. And the man in the midst appeared to say the wrong things as he listened intently without evidence. This man he would always be, no matter what he did now, for he had always been this man in the minds of those who mattered to him.

Madness

Millions of tonnes of fuel burned and lives risked over millions of hours for five days every week each year so we can use the Internet and telephones elsewhere.

Fate

Well, good old fate, gets us there in the end, sometimes gradually, sometimes sooner. Must be some kind of chaotic order that makes the blue print of genetics predictable into the long-term for fate, despite the freedoms of spirit. At least I think I'll go down those lines when my daughter asks where she comes from, or maybe I'll let fate decide

Human Spirit

Isn't the spirit a pal; clouding realities to suit, persuading of a positive perspective.

Pet Annoyance

'You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you.' But Carly, you do nothing but repeat this line throughout the song, are you sure it isn't about the person you are singing about!

Experiencing An Experience

Gaining experience can be a pretty demoralising experience in itself. The fear of it occurring again assists no end with the retaining of the lesson.

Money?

Gravity is what makes the world go round.

Lessons on Legacy

If the new series of Dallas has taught me anything, it's that land is no legacy.

Super Sense

Paranoia is a difficulty in the initial years, but with experience, can be harnessed in the later years.

Easy Rider

Watched 1969 film, 'Easy Rider' yesterday, nowt much changed over there then.

Conspiracy

Three hours before the first plane hit, Lord Carlile of Berriew QC agreed to accept appointment of the brand new role of Independent Reviewer of Terrorism Legislation.

Fatalist (Interpretation 1)

If one is aware of one's own mortality, one can truly live.

Gaza

It's time civilisation was able to grow out of martyrdom. God needs to bang his children's heads together, for it is defamation of his character what they do in his name. Bring on another coming, so that we can sort all this shit out.

Flying

To be successful in taking flight you must first journey your mind into to all of the major muscle zones and then systematically and consciously relax them right down, as if one by one they are all that is of you, it's a kind of meditation of the muscles. Loosen them off without movement until they feel so light, it's almost as if they are no longer there. This takes the upmost concentration to begin with, but can be turned on and off quickly with practice. Do this right, and the body will feel tingley, a little tickleish, almost getting to the point whereby you will want to wriggle in order to avert hysterics. The feeling could almost be described as a fraction orgasmic, like the rush in the back of your head when a stranger or little known associate is unexpectedly attentive and kind to you. The art of flying, is about as easy to to describe as it is to master. Once concentrated enough upon relaxing almost to the point of pleaseant pain, as the mind moves from zone to zone, come out of yourself very gently, whilst maintaining the pulse of relaxation throughout the body with your mind. Have a look around, if you're up, you're off, it's not a superman thing, it's more of a gradual weightlessness, or floating thing. Concentration must be maintained at all times, otherwise you will find yourself sinking back down, or if already at great height, possibly even plumetting. Flight is difficult under fear, which is almost entirely when I end up using it. The fear will often persue on foot from below, although very occassionally swoops down from above. Let the fear in, and you will sink into a matress and pillow, let it go, and it falls further behind and is gone, making for much easier flying. The fun really starts in making jumps from collosal heights, such as off bridges, cliffs and mountain tops, over gorges, rivers or sea. You may or may not find base jumping at bedtime quite so easy as lift off from the ground, although I personally find it easier. It takes courage to leap from an unholly height, even if you know you are dreaming, although the longer the fall, the longer there is to relax, gather your glide and become a feather. It is important to remember that the dream is the wave upon which you are surfing, lose the dream and there is nothing. The dream can be overwhelming, you can forget that it is only a dream and the fright can either wake you or deter you. My advice, take a leap of faith. And by the way, you don't die when you hit the ground in a dream, I've tried. Flight is never guaranteed, but a safe landing is. The last instruction, above all else, you must wake in your dream without waking from your sleep, you must be aware that you are dreaming and maintain this.

The Autumn

I see the leaves are racing each another across the pavements again.

First Impression... Balls

It is a shame to write off a lifetime of impressions based only upon the first

Fashion Is The New Religion

I'm sure we would listen to the Dalai Lama were we not such trauma junkies, we would probably even do a little of what he advises were it not for being trapped completely by our own trappings, which ironically include statues of the Buddha and meditation paraphernalia.

Sofa's With Soul

After sustained use, some possessions took on a quality of spirit that endeared them to the possessor, and like a Gladiator who had earned freedom from his master, they became more of a companion, like an old faithful or a trusty stead, they were loved members of the family by whom they had been acquired;  heirlooms. This was materialism stripped back to it's purest form, a meeting of quality and appreciation that is now drowning within the monster it has become.

High Street Practice

Amnesty International: 'Would you like to sign a Christmas card for somebody who has lost their liberty for you, lots to choose from?'

Shopper:  'No.'

Amnesty International:  'Why?  Is shopping more important?'

Shopper:  'Yes.'

Beaurocrats

Do beaurocrats have no concept of dust?
They should do, they make enough of it!
The problem is, they make us waste our time making it too.
Beaurocrats - life is for getting things done so that we can live it!
Beaurocrats - the purpose of your existence is futile!
Beaurocrats - everything runs out, everything is forgotten, you and us too!

Rose

A bold red of rose petals dying deeper in richness on your bed; my heart no longer pounding, no longer bled.

Catch 22

Unlucky in love - drown sorrows - wrong impression - unlucky in love.

Reaching Thirty

For the first time upon reaching a particular age, it truely felt different.  For me, it was the realisation of amounting to simply this.  I amount to, and always will be, this.  My dillusions and fantasies faded, and without them, the fun became much more pure.  Pure of thoughts of grandeur, the anxieties to impress and of any need whatsoever to compete, pure to appreciate one's lot and life as it is.  The mind has never been so free, and never had such potential as a result.

Addressed To Them Both

I see them somedays in my mind's eye, they are arm in arm, peering from a flat a long way up in the Je-Jiang province, the day burning out over dense reds beneath.  I do not like to think of either stuck fast and alone in transit, hauling a case off a flight delayed into a city of ghosts, losing each other's photographs at dawn's border.  Unless ofcourse, they are going home to one another, full of tales and desperate for a kiss.

I am glad that neither of them must wonder of the other from sealing memory, nor wait for each other to arrive, only to be passing through.  I do not wish theirs to be a fleeting bliss, but a daily bliss, annually, in places with alternative headlines, to vitoe our gossip, file bills that need translation and throw out their winning numbers; oblivious.  I wish for them to enjoy life without Next and John Lewis, on toy phones with plastic sweets and pearls, so that mail comes addressed to them both.

I do not like to think of either alone, nor breaking fret at a challenge only to fail without the other there with a mug of tea and popcorn.  I wish for them that they may discuss current headlines that day, not for it to have been a month, or to have missed even a single hair grow.  Their life together is a balancing game and an exploration, may they be each other's country.

And You Were Only Ever A Lover

The day is hot and I feel jilted as a dishevelled beauty leaves my lover's lair.
The beauty's eyes full of sleep and health from recently left lust
  The smell of sex does not linger in the air, but it should.
My lover looks seriously into my eyes, her's dart
  Feverishly they try to stay upon mine.
A half heatred introduction reveals that she knows no name
  And the warmth of soft scents, morning sun kissed cheeks
  Leaves my senses be and I grow cold.
She'd layed it on the line from our start -
'Sleeping with a girl is only a lustful act, like watching pornography,
  it is not love, for I only have love for you.'
It seemed like fun then...
It breaks my heart now.

Castlefield Flats

Word was the town laid you to rest,
I did not see, for I lay in the grass
  Alas, awash with shame.
For I could not trade a suit that day
  And each and every person wore theirs.
How could I steel a suit on such a day?
Remember how we nursed broken heads and dry tongues?
  With talk forever lost in time we spoke.
I woke you with words
  And you warned me of the fruits of a life misunderstood.

Memory

Pockets of memory, like ghosts within time, haunting places, music and rhyme.

Self Portrait

I do not aspire to any of the classes, I am classless, transcending the boundaries to suit myself.  I do not wish to slot in, and cannot be defined by a particular thing.   I have no desire to be any of you, but I have every desire to do what you all do, with all of you.  I am a Champagne socialist with a tattoo and a kebab.  I drink in working men's clubs and under Michelin stars, often in the wrong attire.  I am who I feel like at any given time and I never grow bored.  My taste is for culture, all of it.  My manners are impeccable and my intrigue insatiable.  I am as individual as the next man.

Envy

The grass is always greener on the side we allow it to be.

Prancing Peacocks

Funny old thing society, and the formalities we have to flex our intellect within it.

Keeping The Masses in Their Masses

If it comes under Section 1 (a), (b) or (c), then you meet criteria to undertake Section 2 (b) (i), (d) (ii) or (f) (iv).  But if you undertake Section 2 (b) (i), (d) (ii) or (f) (iv) then under Regulation 3 it can't be done under Section 1 (a), (b) or (c). Any of the above can be achieved under slip rule X,  but revised amendment rule Y has the effect that there is a discretion for slip rule X to be blocked. Please now note that all of the above is currently being reformed so that a less democratic friendly arrangement can be devised.  When this comes into force on a date prior to the date notification is given, it will effect all decisions from 12 months prior to what might be the date it came into force or an entirely different date, post amendments.  Until then, refer to Schedule 3, then 1, and subsequently 7.  Throughout, consideration must also be given to Article 6 and 8 of the Human Rights Act.   Once that fails in the initial Courts then consider your rights of appeal to the High Court, then subsequently the Court of Appeal, then Europe, all of which require consideration of entirely different more complex law, oh and you might want to consider Judicial Review at any given stage, again requiring consideration of further law.  All of the above must be backed up and can be argued against by way of the alternative and highly ambiguous form of law, that is, former court decisions on all relevant points, known as case law.  Finally, please be aware of all legal loop holes, those we know about can be found elsewhere, for those we don't, please rely on all other sources, otherwise you may, completely by suprise, find one being used against you on the day to great effect.  Should you find any new loop holes yourself, please let us know.

Natural Progression

Nature is without prejudice or persuassion, it never quits.  The sun sets over any man made mess and rises over it again in the morning.

We Want it All, And We Want It Now; Fuck The Future

 God Would Be Furious...But We Have The Free Will and Progress Never Peaks.        

    Thank goodness global resources will last forever, they are as bottomless as the earth itself.  

    It is capitalism that makes the world go round while she insatiably feeds her suckling pigs.

    There can be no over consumerism, it is what we get paid for and how we get paid.
    To be successful is not to make anything, we have the poor for that, let's keep it so.

    To maintain success is to borrow money, then print money, and crucially, to oppress.

    We have no use of anything beyond our lifetimes and so forethought and investment is wasted on such things.

    We have no duty of care towards the future generations of any creature, they are not us.

    Fish populations are so plentiful we can kill everything to take only the fashionable. 

    There is no need to wrap something once when we can wrap the wrapping, box it, and then bag the box.

    It is not necessary to walk to the local shop, you must be taken, along with the two tonnes of steel that encase you.

    The skies and the seas in their vastness simply clean all our mess away like sewers off the edge of the earth.

    We do not need the forests to breathe, nor keep the soils from desert, we have money.

    God forbid that any other being be allowed to exist alongside the human being, or anything at all in the way of  it's progress.

    Alternative energies are not required, there is enough black stuff to burn, the odd spillage is neither here nor there, there is that much.

    Nature evolves constantly to nurture our whims, and thus, the colder regions grow warmer for us.

    We want it all, and we want it now, we'll do anything to get it, and then we throw it away. 

    We are the centre of the universe, superior beings, giants that may be witnessed from the furthest reaches of time and space.  

    Our's is the world and everything in it.

Glastonbury One Liner

We come here to this field in the middle of nowhere to escape it all, and yet right now, this field is everything to all that we seek to escape.

What Goes Around...

And so the diseases we exported of old come back to haunt us as that world now comes to us.

Oscar and I

Sometimes I can be so pre-occupied with being myself, there is very little time to be just that.

Thought In Progress

To play the race card in British society today, more often than not, is to disrespect those forefathers who had every right to do so.  We should never forget the slave trade, but we should get over it.

Clever Is Compassion

A truly clever person never assumes intellectual superiority and never belittles, but instead seeks to understand, often discovering that they were not as clever as they first thought.

Human Civilisation

God forbid that any other being be allowed to exist alongside the human being, or anything at all in the way of  it's progress.

Class Observation

As life becomes comfortable, the need to sustain this takes priority over those who remain otherwise.

Good Craic

No good dominating the dynamic and sapping the energy flow, it puts you on top, but depletes all of what you are on top off. The secret is to enjoy receiving and distributing as evenly as possible, the craic must flow.

Fifteen is The New Three

In 15 years, I'll be 50.  I remember being 15, and that doesn't seem long ago, nor long alive.  Another 15 years and that's the lot, life flies and even the longest is short.

Too Much of A Good Thing Gone Mad

I don't think in terms of race, until the politically correct remind me.