Stormy Sunday

Writing: a singles ad (no, not for real use or for publishing - just something between close friends), in the style of that in The Believer mag. Also extending 'The Talent Scout' as per feedback. I haven't edited any of the older stuff, i'm such a well-meaning, self-deluded skank.

Reading: The Economist, Fortune & NY Times.

Watching: scenes of Boomtown life, from my window.

Demeanour: distracted, having tested myself to see how much scotch bonnet pepper sauce I can take (this household swears by Encona, from Jamaica).

Listening to: Simon Dupree and the Big Sound, Sammy Davis Jr, Eric Dolphy, the recordings of the poet Langston Hughes, the MC5, the Dirtbombs & Anthony Newley.

Looking forward to: 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' tonight in a showing for adults. Someone suggested the film title 'Chocolate and the Charlie Factory' for a story about a black labrador getting involved with crack dealers. It'd make a sick and funny short story, and would pick up nicely from the 'Phixel the Digital Dog' adventures that Peter Dallimore and I thought up over ten years ago.

Send Fearless wah-wah pedals to match the slap-bass soundtrack to masturbation.

Watching the detectives

While bumming around London just over a week ago, killing time before the Karl Bartos lecture at the NFT, I came upon a strange scene by the Thames. One young lady, engrossed in her book, was being photographed by a stranger sitting nearby. I snapped the 'voyeur', only to tun and discover that someone had been observing me, making notes. A timely reminder that the watcher is also watched.

But what of motivation? I was moved to take the photograph by beauty - one attractive young lady capturing another, deep in contemplation. What was her motivation - the yellow sneakers or the look of concentration on her subject's face?

What motivated the chap to observe me and take notes? Was it my brown skin, shoulder bag and inquisitive, camera-snappin' nature? Did he consider me a danger to river barges, fishes and pollution? He rode off when he realised I was walking towards him, but he hopefully immortalised (fictionalised?) me in his notebook.

'Voyeur's Verse'

I watch you quietly from afar
in the searing summer heat,
conscience pricked
by my lonely heartbeat.

21st August 2003

A short poem

'The Boy that Cried Fire'

Adrift in an embrace
masking tear-stained face,
he mourns with pearls of ember.

Lamenting the love he can't replace,
he seeks a solitary space,
for the heart is a lonely hunter.

28th July 2005, 18:30 from Paddington to Reading

I may extend it - 'Da Bomb' thinks I should, and she's usually right about these things. It's a poem based on a feeling long since past, and to extend it successfully, I would have to be enveloped by the same shade of indigo, which I no longer am. We'll see.

Listening to: Ella Fitzgerald 'Mack the Knife' (the legendary 1960 Berlin performance where she forgot the words to Kurt Weill's classic song and improvised).

Thinking about: cks & a, as well as section 44 of the Terrorism Act (thanks to the folks at Tabard Street).

Doing: not a lot, but I think i'll haul ass and write some stuff.

A shout goes out...

...to Puddy, who forever offers to show me his bottom, whilst fondling my stack (of paper - in my library). Yes, you can borrow my book! Just leave my blow-up doll alone.

Ok, so now...

..first read this.

OK, read it? Good.

Now read this.

Kinda puts 'it' in perspective, doesn't it?

Fearless

Windblown musings

A ploy or genuine debate? I suspect the latter. Who's the controlling mind? Coming at the same time that the Egyptian authorities absolve five Pakistanis of the Sharm-el-Sheik bombing. We have to keep on reminding ourselves that even within a loose-knit terrorist network, different terrorists have differing agendas. An outsider bombing London may be doing it for Osama, Iraq, Palestine or just because he is a knob. An insider bombing London could well be doing it because he feels isolated, cut off, and has then been turned by a 'controlling mind'. Interesting that nobody has yet connected that feeling of being cut off to the wider social issue of people in the 20-35 age range feeling disengaged, disconnected, bereft - regardless of ethnic, religious or cultural background. Max Farrar's article (link posted yesterday) comes close. I would urge you to read it.

A bright spark in an otherwise grey, damp day - the errorist will publish my poem 'Banana Republic Blues'.

Oh, and farewell to Steve 'Aziz/As Is' Meleka'. Till next time.

Stay lucky, be happy,

Fearless

Dooby-dooby-doo

On the boundary,
poised reluctantly,
I look towards a
brighter tomorrow -
and salvation,
as I return my car
to Volkswagen.

26th July 2005, on the hard shoulder of the M25

Interesting perspectives on recent events, from Brian 'Weekend World' Walden and Max Farrar.

Be groovy, Fearless

Eat your heart out Ann Summers!

Proof that the Rampant Rabbit wasn't the first, or necessarily the best. Try a tool that's smooth, environmentally friendly and is multipurpose.

I think...

...we should be told (or I should at least get free tickets to the NFT).

Eddie Berg, Creative Director, The National Film Theatre

David Harold, PR Manager, IMG

Battle? What battle?

...peace & love, brotherman and sisterlady.

Just watched 'Battle of the Sexes' on BBC1, a documentary about scientific approaches to finding an 'ideal match' as your partner. The programme was based around a collection of scientists with their own theories about the perfect match (facial characteristics, hip-to-waist ratio, looking similar, income, breast/butt size & shape, etc) running a speed dating agency and making predictions.

Key outcomes:

• People didn't hook up with their scientifically-predicted match
• No lasting relationships came out of the speed dating, scientifically-predicted or otherwise
• The London Seduction Society (yes, I am afraid such a thing exists) thankfully scored badly, as their interpretation of seduction was to put down a woman so they looked impressive in comparison. That these guys thought like this is an affront to men everywhere, is demeaning to women, and a mighty big shit-stick insult to human intelligence. Thank God they were trounced, chauvinistic jars of semen (with the lid stuck, thank f**k)
• I wouldn't want to date any of the people (male or female) in this programme. Too godamn shallow.

Right, i'm off to peruse pornography (photos of naked buffalo in a travel mag - authentic savannah action!),

Fearless

Housekeeping

The place is a f**kin' tip. Magazines, books, CDs, consumer electronics gizmos and correspondence scattered all over the landscape. Better tidy up, write my replies and recharge batteries. Thanks to Shak & Trudy for the baklava, and to Natasha and Sophia for the kisses and hugs.

Respect to: Cardinal Jaime Sin, the brandy loving priest of Manila, who portrayed Imelda Marcos as the mining industry, pointing to anything she fancied and shouting 'That's mine!'

Reading: some writing (duh)

Writing: editing a short piece I wrote last week (thanks to 'Da Bomb' for her feedback)

Watching: Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory

Listening to (later): some Anthony Newley (he sang and co-wrote the 'Charlie & the Chocolate Factory' soundtrack)

An Easy Barefoot Sunday Feelin'

I got to get my groove on and prepare for the arrival of Natasha & Sophia.

Listening to: 'Something Wicked this Way Comes' by The Herbaliser

Educational link of the day is this. Today's haha moment is this, from McSweeneys.

Halfway to Heaven

A corker of a day! First I overslept. Then, trying to do a quick circuit around Reading to get to Camberley via Bracknell, I jump on J12 of the M4, aiming to get off at J10. Alas, I miss it, and peg it to Maidenhead, to turn back round.

Following late arrival, after intense debate with the Cistern Kid and iPod Perv about what to do for the day (Newbury Races or dossday in London), we head towards Richmond, for me to clock up three points on the aptly named M3.

The iPod Perv slagged my hat off, so I went 'shiny domed' for the day. By the NFT, a chance crack elicited a wrist flick from me. Alas, my Ra ring slipped off, and in great haste, I put my foot out to stop its escape, only to bend it out of shape.

I recovered my composure and headed on to do a quick bit of shopping. Spying someone with terrific mid-riff in the womenswear section, I compliment them on their choice of jacket and stroll on by, only to find out later from the iPod Perv that she kinda swooned. Cue lecture from friends on how I seem to continually miss golden opportunities, and cue regret that I didn't look her in the eye when I said it (but the jacket really did suit her).

In the cybercafe, we tried booking our birthday break but none of the choices were checking out, so we fired up the random holiday selector - Viva Vienna!

As we resumed our pub crawl, the iPod Perv picked 'Halfway to Heaven'. Only when we noticed that the patrons were taking an unhealthy interest in our discussions, the Cistern Kid in general, and the iPod Perv's new trousers in particular did we realise what kind of pub it was. Mind you, I was flattered to get a wink, even if it was the barman in the tight shirt of pink.

Supper at Wagamama's - hey, we were knackered. Served by a beautiful girl who almost 'looked like a boy' (according to the Cistern Kid). We scribbled a daft prick's text of 'we think u r cute' on the bill, only to have it picked up by a bloke, doubtless with bona-fide bloke bits. Still, the iPod Perv was disappointed not to get anyones phone number.

As daft days go, it was pretty ok.

Listening to: 'Ultraglide in Black', by the Dirtbombs, 'Spacelines', 'Soul Gospel' on the SJR label and the BonkersBrill 'Le Monde Fabuleux Des Yamasuki's' by Yamasuki.

Reminiscing about: Bartlett

Talking about: journeys

Looking forward to: WOMAD, beer festival and Vienna

Love, peace and respect,

Fearless

TFI Friday

Interesting day. Got off to a skidmarky start as I overslept and missed 'Silver City', the new John Sayles satire. All forgiven with a wicked salt beef sandwich (yes, the 'special') at Gaby's on Charing Cross Road while everyone else was on terror alert.

Spent plenty of time around Embankment, chilling at the NFT while I waited for the main event - the Karl Bartos lecture, 'Interpositions of Media'. I think D would have liked this, and for a moment, I thought he was there - D is a dead ringer for Eddie Berg, artistic director at the NFT, although one is from Manchester, the other from Liverpool.

Bartos was a member of electronica pioneer group Kraftwerk (come on, everybody knows 'Tour de France', right?). It was a wide ranging lecture, taking in Plato, Stockhausen, Grandmaster Flash, Susan Sontag, Neil Postman and of course Marshall McCluhan ('The medium is the message').

It was good to be reminded that photography is about 'writing with light', and for the rest of the evening my mindscape went off on a tangent, as I was thinking how film so often dictates a plot, whereas music allows my imagination free reign - and it doesn't always have to be that way.

Good to see a mixture of media students, DJs, VJs, writers and electronica freaks in the crowd.

Tale of the evening - shortly after joining Kraftwerk in 1975, Bartos and the others embarked on a coast-to-coast US tour. One evening they were surprised by the sheer size of the crowd, and also realised that they didn't have enough material. They were terrified, but one of them recognised that the audience were mainly stoners, so they played their material at 50-75% speed to stretch it out. Everybody was happy.

Harry Potter as a post-crack rent boy...

Went to see Nathan Penlington's Edinburgh preview at Shortfuse with Patrick. Very, very good.

Also good to see him nervous beforehand as I was able to wind him up. I made sure I saluted his martial law girlfriend (good hat action). Meeting Nathan's father, it's clear to see where he gets 'it' from. I did start writing a poem about Nathan, but abandoned it after three stanzas as it was way too rude.

Oh, and I fell for the barmaid at the Camden Head, but as she is leaving the UK at the weekend, I did nothing about it.

Taking the train...

...my site of the day is 'Bum Wines'. I dedicate this to the memory of Griff, Craven, Lewis, British Rail and 1987.

BTW, I totally agree with the comment about Thunderbird (but it was damned cheap).

In Schott's 'Subtle Hints Miscellany', under 'asshole' it suggests this.

Fearless

P.S. Happy birthday Simon!

His Excellency...

Just saw Crown Prince Hasan of Jordan on Channel 4 news. Relaxed, urbane and seriously clever. Made some very interesting points on the extradition of Abu Qatada to Jordan (pending agreement) and also on the notion of Islamic fundamentalism and suicide bombings, e.g. if suicide bombings are inextricably linked to Islam, then why do the largest Muslim nations in the Africa/Middle East (Sudan & Iran) have no instances of suicide bombings? He cited a book by Professor Robert Pape of the University of Chicago, 'Dying to Win: the Strategic Logic of Suicide Terrorism', and a report by the UK think-tank Demos, on the part that women play in fighting terror (61% of Iraq's population are women, according to Prince Hasan). The Demos report is published tomorrow but details are here.

Ciao for now, Fearless

Idling

'Clockers'

We waited.
We expected him from the West.
We exchanged subtle jokes targeted
at his history of punctuality.
We waited; we grew impatient,
and then -

Reading, writing, 'rithmetic - but no thinking

Central to any kind of education is to ask 'why?' or 'why not?', as that leads to the idea of differences, and how they can be celebrated rather than fought over.

If you teach somebody to learn a fixed text, in a fixed environment, and do not encourage them to question, you create something that excludes all but a narrow set of views and beliefs, eschews the ideas of exploration, understanding, negotiation and reconciliation - and preaches that there is something wrong with those that think differently to you, and in some way, they are worth less than you.

That folks, is the story of some of the madrassas (I stress 'some'). Islam says nothing about little kids learning Koranic verses by rote, rocking back and forth as they recite out loud - but it's an image you have seen a lot of on TV in the past few years. This is not representative of the religion, but it is representative of a few village idiots doubling up as clerics, with no training in how to be teachers.

Of course, I say this knowing that schools in Japan use the rote system, and that Russia is planning on re-introducing Soviet-era patriotism lessons in school, including military-style exercises and lectures in 'patriotic reproduction'.

You couldn't make it up, unless of course, you made up policy.

Returning fleetingly to the topic of BigotPervs, one died today.

Want some candy, sugar? Check out some old time public service announcements.

Don't wait for the revolution to come and seek you out - start your own,

Fearless

It's not fair!

At a time when an 11yo girl is arrested (with aid of helicopter) for throwing a stone at bullies, there is a 'Whacky Races' style pursuit of a rogue bamboo-shitting powerhouse (panda), and plans for launching pork spunk into space are disclosed, I wonder...

...just why the frig did it take me two and a half hours to drive home this evening?

WHY?

F*CK**G ALIENS?

Feeling content, writing content

Doing: writing web site content whilst sitting in the garden (thank frig for Wi-Fi!)

Thinking: that we are living in momentous times. It's as if we have thrown the dice up in the air in the ultimate crap shoot. Why? Well...

• National infrastructure (health, welfare/pensions, education, roads and rail) is crumbling
• A great many people are withdrawing into themselves, essentially becoming self-absorbed, materialistic and living in fear
• The economy is being artificially stimulated by tax receipts
• Human rights are receding faster than my hair line
  
• While we in the West try to ignore all this crap, other great civilisations are cutting through all that assorted nonsense and fast-tracking their economies, although ultimately they will end up in the same spot

Many of our institutions and processes are no longer relevant, so much has to be started over.

There are lots of uncertainties and variables. But it is very liberating, as anything is possible.

Listening to: Boothby Graffoe sketches, Eddie Palmieri, Os Mutantes

Interesting link of the day: Korean concept art via The Last Kleenex.

Ciao, Fearless

Not just knee deep

At Mia's birthday party on Friday night, there was a discussion about the aftermath of the London bombings, and repurcussions on the Muslim community. I am not going to extol at length about this with an in-depth treatise, but there are a few points I would like to get off my chest, if only to clarify a few things. In no particular order, they are:

• The 'Muslim Community' is as much a community as Anglicans, Protestants, Catholics, Jews, Sikhs and Hindus. That means that we have our different groups, beliefs and disagreements - some violent.
• The Islamic faith does not have one overall leader. It is a widely dispersed faith. This is both a boon (no one leader can dominate the faith) and a hindrance (it is hard to come up with a collective response).
• The Koran, like any other holy book, is by turns vague and desparately out of touch with the way we live today. For those who criticise the Koran, I would ask them if they would be willing to criticise the Old Testament for much the same reasons. Not everything from several hundred years ago was supposed to be taken literally.
• Much of what are taken to be 'Islamic customs' are in fact not so - they are more often cultural issues, which vary from the Middle East to South Asia to South-East Asia.
• The Pakistani community in the UK is overwhelmingly Muslim. Many of those who hailed from villages settled in mini-communities, and those from cities, settled in town and cities and chose to live outside the security of their own mini-community, opting to mix more widely (with both good and bad results). These groups are very different to one another, in terms of their outlook on life and religion, and have little to do with one another. But they are all more or less like the rest of us.
• Yes, the London bombers were UK-born and from the mini-community in the Leeds area. It is an area whose local economy was based on a manufacturing and textile industry that collapsed twenty years ago, and has not sufficiently recovered, so it is a bit dismal on the employment and urban renewal fronts. Whether it's these guys or the Brixton nail bomber David Copeland (1999), if you can get guys from a gritty area, reinforce the view that they are at a dead end, make them feel worthless, you can pretty much get them to believe & do anything. It's grooming, just as it is in paedophilia.
• What of the groomers? Whether it's Hizb-ut-Tahrir, Al Qaeda or the BNP, they are all out of their tiny fucking minds. Each of these people believe that there is going to be a great struggle - a huge battle with massive armies - between Islam and Christianity. It could have been a David Lean epic, for it is just a movie clip that plays in the pathetic minds of empty souls. The world doesn't have battles like that anymore, partly because people have much more to unite them - now that we know more about eachother through immigration, travel, etc - and people can be successful through helping others be successful, rather than killing them (trade economics).
• The Muslim community is just stunned. They had no idea that members of the community felt like this. It is not those that immigrated here from India/Pakistan/Bangladesh that are disaffected, but their UK-born offspring. Interestingly (anecdotally), the 'groomers' all come from outside the UK and have different agendas to the UK 'patsys' they used.
• The BNP and others could say that immigration is to blame for all this. Patently absurd. A groomer doesn't have to immigrate here. He can just visit for a week or two.
• Of course, while there will be no big battle, there will always be attacks on society - think back to the 70s, and the Red Brigade, ETA, the IRA, the PLO and the Baader-Meinhof Gang. Think of anti-abortionists blowing up abortion clincs and killing doctors.
• Every 20-25 years some poor community goes through a lot of turmoil.

But why is there turmoil now? There are lots of ingredients.

If you take the Middle East as one, people will talk about oil. That's a minor one. The big issue with the Middle East is water. Water is life, it's growth - both agriculturally and economically.

It's politics. An unfortunate situation with Islam is that in many Islamic Republics, interpretation of the Koran is left to a 'learned academic' - always male, and usually from a not so cosmopolitan or urbane background. Remember, in small, sparsely populated villages, you have to double up on the roles you play, so the local cleric is often the village idiot. Many clerics harbour political ambitions.

It's economics. Lots of disaffected youth who feel worthless. For a parallel, think back to the UK race riots in the early 80s - lots of young folk felt disaffected, detached from Thatcher's Britain.

It's also personal. In the case of Al Qaeda, it's Osama Bin Laden's revenge against the House of Saud. In the case of Hizb-ut-Tahrir or the BNP, race is used to recruit disaffected youngsters to be used as footsoldiers to terrorise and coerce their way to political legitimacy - think back to Oswald Mosely and the black shirts. Think also of Umberto Bossi of Italy's Northern League, Jorge Haider in Austria or the Nazi-like Christian Nationalists in Peru who blame the country's woes on it's Jews (there's less than 100 Jews living there).

What to do? Give disaffected youths self-worth. We all have a part to play in that. We can never stop 'groomers' or fanatics, but we can give their would-be footsoldier victims an alternative, making them deaf to the rants of bigoted imbeciles.

What will you do about it?

Love, peace and respect,

Fearless

The Birthday Dinner

Last night I joined the celebrations of Mia's 39th birthday at The Rocket. How great it was to be in the company of six ladies! Lots of stimulating debate and discussion. Some of it reminded me of a couple of past poems.

'Well...'

Just remember,
that whatever else
happens in this world
and beyond,
you can only be you.

Wherever -
however
you end up,
it all begins
and ends,
with you.

Believe in
yourself,
draw strength
from within
and stride on,
my friend,
my love.
Never give in.

3rd February 2004, Berkshire


'A Snowflake to Navigate By'

Just when my
Frosty winter gaze
Needed to be punctured
It came:
A solitary snowflake

Transfixed
Held captive in time
I marvelled at its form -
It looked like a star

Overjoyed
I thanked the heavens
Ra, Thor, Ahura Mazda
For creating such timeless beauty
I praised my God of Small Things
For delivering me
This virginal flake of liberation

I knew it would melt
Before too long
As it did so
The tip of my tongue
Captured this vision
This taste of paradise

'Why?'
Well
I had been travelling
For quite some time
Aware that I had lost
My bearings

But on a winter's day
I was given a star
And
By making it a part of me -
My mind, body and soul
I know
That I will never
Lose myself again

10th December 2003, Berkshire


'A Thought While Shaving'

Moments are what I live for.

Instances make up the sum of my love.

Fragments are all I have,

for I am

just pieces of a man.

Let them think of me

what they will.

They see me through their own eyes

after all.

For it’s not me that they see -

they see themselves and their pasts,

in the mirror

that is me.

Sure,

life would be simpler

if I was free of

feelings,

loose of conscience and

untouched by the hand of honour.

But then,

life would be

a lot less interesting.

22nd January 2004, looking in the mirror


Thinking in a mindscape unknown,

Fearless

etc, etc

For those of you that think I can be terse, check this out. In the dictionary, under 'asshole', it says 'see him'.

Here is a picture of Steve 'Aziz' Meleka, friend, colleague, father of Charlotte, husband of Chris and WebHarlot. He has very kindly agreed to bring www.fearlesslyrics.com to life (the downside is that I will provide the content - eventually).

I went to lunch with Steve today at the Rose & Crown in Kings Langley. This photo was taken moments before I was served with the exploding chicken. No, I am not joking - the chicken really did explode. All over the joint. Various bits of my lunchtime fowl made assorted patrons howl.

I later caught 'Zero Degrees' at Sadler's Wells. Amazing dancing with a cracking theme - you're hooked from the start. I won't say anymore, as reviews are not my strong point. But Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui has incredibly slim ankles. Damn slim. Really. Just thought I should share that with you.

Got bushwhacked by John & David (Bush) of Shortfuse. Lovely guys. I would have photographed Nathan, except his shirt confused my camera's autofuckus. All being well, i'll perform at Shortfuse in October.

On a much more serious note, I would like to express my deepest condolences to my great friend Alice, who is mourning the tragic loss of her companion Molly. My thoughts are with you.

Love, peace & respect,

Fearless

?

Reading: 'Freakonomics', by Steven Levitt. Ignore the title, it's a great book for the inquisitive economist, and fast becoming a favourite. Here's the review that bought it to my attention.

Listening to: 'Cosmic Slop' by Funkadelic and selections of stand-up routines by Richard Pryor.

Mood: mellow with a slice of watermelon on the side

Debating: bed or poem? Will dream a poem for tomorrow.

Can't sleep. Check out a Bonnie Tyler cover version on kitchen equipment. If you're a fan of Conrad, Coppola and have a secret longing for the latest film version of Dahl's classic story, 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory', then check this out.

I leave you with a piece of trivia. Did you know that the screenplay for the film 'Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang' was written by Roald Dahl, and that the original book was written by Ian Fleming, creator of James Bond? Are Blofeld & Scaramanga variations of the Child Catcher? I think we should be told.

I went and f&^ked my luck...

...as this morning I shared a car with Reading's George Formby stunt-double, only to bump into ShitVille's version of Elvis - the very inspiration for my poem, 'Pretender to the Throne'. What do you know? It's the one day I didn't have my camera with me (the battery died over the weekend and the UK charger was only delivered this afternoon).

Arse.

Oh yeah - £1000 for a car service? It's virtually a new car. Well, apart from the new mass airflow sensor that needs to be fitted to give the power unit its oomph back.

Double arse.

Still, it's a great car, is built (and looks) like a tank and isn't the kinda chariot anyone would wanna nick. Still, the day is coming when I will have to replace it - but only when my license has zero points. The shortlist is currently:

• Audi A4 (worthy but dull)
• BMW 1 series (camp...and looks too much like a Vauxhall Astra)
• VW Golf (the ultimate car for tossers - apart from the BMW 3 series)
• Seat Leon (a Golf for someone with charisma)
• Alfa Romeo 159 (loved my old 156, and want to rekindle the romance, if not the AA relay relationship)
• Skoda Octavia (truly bonkers, with turbocharger and four wheel drive)
• Fiat Stilo Abarth (hehehe, only kiddin' Steve)

Apologies for not having anything interesting to post this evening. I've been busy, but also couldn't be arsed.

Blogging has its limits...

...it can't help you to lose weight, make your schlong longer/thicker, make you intelligent if you're an asshole, or mobilise masses by itself. Here are some other views that chime in, compiled by long-distance associate Andrew Orlowski of El Reg.

In lieu of anything intelligent to say...

...here are some links. A classic toy review and 'Danny Boy' redux.

The naked centrefold posting...

...if only because it's hot and I am draped across the bed.

Wondering: if Jonathan & Ro have deciphered the Japanese instructions for Taran's birthday present. Also wondering what my nieces and nephews made of their presents (dolls and masks, respectively) yesterday.

Listening to: 'Essential Ray Charles', and 'Songs in the Key of Death' compiled & mixed by Andy Votel

Reading: nothing, it's dark in here

My thanks to: Steve for the fabulous design mockup for fearlesslyrics.com, and JB for kindly dropping me in it with Ro over my innocent question about Louise (but what I said stands - there is a brand assurance attached to being a friend of Ro's - a sign of trust & confidence).

The week ahead: work, sweat, get the car fixed (lacking both oomph and the ability to stop), dance performance at Sadler's Wells, dinner with Mia, sweat some more, and deliver the first random letter. A week that will lack any significant writing activity, unless you include the signing of cheques.

It's a lazy Saturday kinda thing

Some chore hopping this morning, then off to JB's to drop off a present for baby Taran (now 1yr old) - I couldn't keep it at home any longer, as people were beginning to speculate. The high point of my day? The destruction of the Cistern Kid's garden.

Project Gazonga has been resurrected, and will resume in anger next Friday. The random letter writing campaign generator will start up tomorrow. Alas, the results of either cannot be published here. Perhaps there'll be a separate blog, but then again, perhaps not.

After all, I need to protect my phony-baloney career. They have added Asia-Pacific (APAC) & European sales to my product responsibilities - good job I didn't buy a house.

See ya in the BA lounge, Fearless

Love, peace & respect

Watching: 'The Bird People in China' by Takashi Miike

Listening to: 'The Afro-Eurasian Eclipse' by Duke Ellington

Wondering: why so many writers (poets mainly) would have been racing to write the ultimate bombing poem, ostensibly to memorialise what happened, but in reality demonstrate their lack of respect for the ongoing emergency work in the aftermath, and the fact that they are totally self-centred, saying 'look at me, don't I care a lot?' By all means write about it, but you don't have to put it out there just yet - people are still seeking and bleeding, and for now at least, wailing and gnashing of teeth is the monopoly of those right in it. But then again, 'DB!' disagreed with my point of waiting awhile before writing. She put it to me that its good to write while the anger is still white hot. I have to concede on that point, just as SteveM had said to me earlier in the week. We agreed that you don't do it for show. That is pretty fuckin' bad form. On that basis, i'll write something, but I don't think anyone will see it.

Get outta town and see your family or at least call them.

Love, peace & respect,

Fearless

Que Pasa?

Went to the osteopath this evening. We agree that the outlook physical is great, but also agree that there isn't a school of psychotherapy born yet that can deal with the merry-go-round in my mind. This discussion prevented me from leching at Reading's race for life, with several hundred ladies running around Prospect Park.

OK, some links. Get your pooch to go clandestine in the city. Even if you haven't seen the film (iPod Perv & I missed our chance), you too can learn to dance with Napoleon Dynamite. Finally, someone with too much time on their hands.

I have decided. Shaving oil is better than a shaving stick, and more convenient than shaving gel or foam. I also suspect that it is more pleasurable than sex. I'm off to find out.

Wipe the blade clean and hope nobody notices,

Fearless

Selected Randomness

Watched a sneak preview of Larbi, Khan, Gormley & Sawhney's 'Zero Degrees' - i'll be catching it at Sadler's Wells next Thursday (so will miss Shortfuse before their summer break), along with their post-show talk.

Struggling with the debt relief conundrum - sure, it will reduce a nation's or government's debt, but it will not help a poor farmer repay his village elder. How many people have actually stopped to think that? Poverty is relative, which makes it hard if not impossible to eradicate. That said, it's a great thing to shoot for. It's just a little shaming that we have to rely on rock concerts to keep our attention span going.

The other itchy scalp feeling I have is this - how much of the aid given to a foreign country is actually destined to return, to pay for items that are then shipped out, e.g. vaccines, etc?

In domestic news, Pradip seems very pleased with his 'Flu Fleurs', and I had a nice long chat with Steve today. Following the results of his 6yr project, he is leaving to spend more time with his family (no, he's not a politician). He's a really sweet guy, and i'll miss him. Well, i'll miss ribbing him, exchanging head shaving tips and calling him 'Aziz'. He'll miss me, i'm sure, like a seriously profound dose of the clap. But I don't mind, if he will kindly agree to help me with my website, as my time has reduced to the level of my skillset in that area (read LOW).

Stay hungry, stay foolish,

Fearless

Oops, I did it again

..I forgot to give you a link. Wallow in Pedigree Chum and a government white paper to this. Thanks again to the Friday Project.

Watching: 'Chungking Express' & 'Uzak'

Pieces of a dream?

...ok, a fragment:

Swapping phone for camera and passport for Moleskine notebook, I hijack the high-speed express elevator and head for Mars.

Settling on ground-floor level, I step out and follow the signs - an abandoned foundry, tools, engineering drawings and stepladders, strewn around the crater.

Walking on, I come to a clearing, and there he is, like Kurtz - Willy Wonka, surrounded by naked midgets, without stepladders, bearded and unbowed. They all look the same and lack opposable thumbs. I hear the elevator doors shut behind me.

I don't wake up.

Something I scribbled at Narita

'Homo Phallus'

Like a latter-day 'Man from Del-Monte', you strut around the departures lounge, circling seats with suitcase, seeking interest. Pity then, that it is confined to those hoping to see you shit straw, and those hoping to make it happen, with the aid of your hat.

Whoosh!

Didn't get a chance to edit any poems on the return flight, partly because the paperwork was in my hold luggage, and partly because I boarded the aircraft blind drunk, having gone from Roppongi to Takanawa to pack, without time for shut-eye.

Mood: PhiloFabGroovy, despite showdown in Gotanda last night and predictable mini-adventure in Roppongi - why do I always seem to attract these kind of women? Al, Mia & the boys pissed themselves laughing when I told them what happened.

Wondering: why my right eye appears to be damaged

Working out: the odds that the Cistern Kid, iPod Perv and I will make it to Drury Lane to see 'The Producers'

Love, peace and respect,

Fearless

For C(K) @ Roppongi

Pinned at the border, you're unable to extricate yourself from the tri-state zone of pain, perception and disorder.

You can't chop-change options as you consider-dismiss guerrilla war tactics.

Safe passage is a relative concept, so after rejecting a mindfield crossing, circumnavigating your fear, uncertainty and doubt, you'll be forever peering out of your bunker, longing to squint in the daylight.

Cooling Down

I am the snowstorm that flies a thousand crystal kites, each a gliding testament to my many broken hearts, just as your faltering footsteps are the theme to your love, slipping away for shelter.

Memo to self, part II

Oh Lord, pinch my butt so I know I am merely dreaming, instead of feeling this drunk. Oh Lord, pinch my butt so I know I am merely dreaming, instead of feeling this drunk. Oh Lord, pinch my butt so I know I am merely dreaming, instead of feeling this drunk. Oh Lord, pinch my butt so I know I am merely dreaming, instead of feeling this drunk. Oh Lord, pinch my butt so I know I am merely dreaming, instead of feeling this drunk. Oh Lord, pinch my butt so I know I am merely dreaming, instead of feeling this drunk. Oh Lord, pinch my butt so I know I am merely dreaming, instead of feeling this drunk.

Amen.

Two young ladies who helped out my colleagues at ESEC