Rain, beautiful, almost-cleansing rain

Great day yesterday, starting off with a meeting with an astute young lady at Reading University, followed by lunch with Steve. The web site looks good, but it needs more photographs. Steve took a few shots by the canal after lunch but the sunlight was too strong - and I was too ugly. He showed me lots of pics of baby Charlie, who is 3 months old today. He also had plenty of room for a dessert or two. I was amazed to see his Fiat Stilo Abarth working - kind of.

Dinner with Stef & Ash was cool. Ash liked the magic hat, which I claimed would make me invisible, but not to the passing snakeoil salesman, who came across our Moroccan idyll in Hampstead, and invited us to give him a £1 each, and then buy British Airways, amongst other companies. Yes, I love to be given an elevator pitch for a highly leveraged buyout (LBOs) by a guy with questionable taste in beach shorts.

He who maketh the deal taketh the commission (for the buyout and the resultant asset strip), and passeth on the benefits (of debt) to the oh so many.

They blamed me for the visitation, but bless little Ash, for he took the guys number. We waved on 'Chris Scholey' to the catcalls of the working girls based across the street.

Interesting article in the latest update on OpenDemocracy. The article contains a comment that resonates with me:

'...are highly literalist in their reading of the Qur’an. They feel (for the most part) little need to read the book in its historical context, and view each and every word as relevant for all peoples and for all time to come.'

I'm off to bask in the lightning.

Love, peace & respect, Fearless

Cruisin' with camera

I spent the day at Kew, and while I didn't get to reflect in solitude in the Japanese garden (it was a bank holiday), I did spend some time admiring the glass sculptures of Dale Chihuly. At first, I was put off by the placement of some of his sculptures - they looked as if they had been abandoned, but after some time I learn to appreciate the innate beauty of several sculptures. I took some photographs with both the Nikon S1 & my trusty Olympus C765UZ. They didn't turn out that well as it was a) busy, and b) I was limited in freedom of movement - no, not my jockstrap, just the reality of trying to avoid trampling rare plant life underfoot. I could do with a digital SLR and a tripod, but if truth be told, I just needed more time and space to get the shots I really wanted. Oh well. At least I managed to edit two poems whilst talking to the ducks.

The one below reminds me, for some reason, of the film 'Apocalypse Now'.

This one conjures up the image of Hartley Hare from the childrens TV show 'Pipkins' from the 1970s.

I think this piece was deserving of more light to showcase its curvature.

This final one reminded me of the film 'Aliens' crossed with psychedlic drugs.

Indecision, indecision

Carnival or Kew? Booty jigglin' or glass sculptures? Hmmm, have cameras, will travel. Feet don't fail me now.

A bad day for...

...I.T. I remembered why I quit my job at IBM all those years ago. I hate the fact that computers go out of date within 18-24 months, so instead of upgrading software, it makes more sense to get new hardware - to avoid the inevitable incompatibilities.

I have given up trying to revive my father's desktop PC. Looks like he'll get to have my Dell laptop. I am tempted to give up and buy one of the new Intel-based Apple laptops next year. But then, I would rather buy a digital SLR.

Quote of the day: 'Goats have a lot more of a personality to them than sheep do', Bob Duke, Chairman of the ABGA, quoted in The Economist (well, he should know).

Site of the day

A great retro-cool, modern antiques site (thanks Steve). A definite wallet-emptying stop for me - once I have been able to make up my mind.

OK, now some pictures of kids. I don't have any of my own (sob), but here are two I borrowed recently.

Charlotte, daughter of Steve & Chris

Taran, son of Jonathan and Ro

Aren't they cute? You will notice Charlie's slumber-smile, the same in fact, as her father's when in meetings at work. Taran looks a lot like his father, although Jonathan can't crawl as fast.

Reading: somebody else's prose (thanks Ange)

Working on: a whole lot of stuff - for other folk

Listening to: recently acquired vinyl, 70s funk, soundtracks and afro-beat

Best of luck to: Ani on her French retreat & Dr. Mandrill as 'Teach'

Good trip back to: Graeme

Thinking: 'shit! Is that the time?'

Not the poem I was going to write...

...but when it comes, it comes.

'Illicit'

Koranic man and
Talmudic woman
in naked embrace.
Guilt-free lovers -
cooking bacon
and sausages,
stuffing their face.

25th August 2005

Detritus

'Constellation Aspiration'

Hands of time accelerate,
rotating in a frenzy.
Ticks whirr into tocks,
as I close my eyes -
slipping into spaceskin
flying into fantasy...

Atmosphere stygian -
I hide
under cover of
celestial cloak.

Ra,
let me strap it on,
and rattle
and a'rhythm-a-ning
rocketing
across the constellation,
dancing in the midst
of the stellar signs.

Give me solar flare
to surf seamlessly
sequentially,
through the galaxy.

Let me kiss alien lips
and embrace
all who populate
Greater Space.

Tanned by flame of Ra.
Milky way tinged
with bitter chocolate,
I am a'flicking and a'flitting
across constellations.

Floating
in Mellow-G,
I am Leo of Zodiac -
just another kid
in the galaxy.

11th May 2004, in the midst of a surreal funk

Frivolous? Moi?

Thinking about: eyes that remind me of where a willow tree meets the grass, enveloped by a disposition that's sky blue.

Also thinking about: projectile diarrhea (no, not me) & restaurants with toilets 'willing to be abused' nearby (no, still not me).

Not admitting to thinking about: female derrieres, and 'D' at the Foo Fighters concert (he is showing his age).

Listening to: Sammy Davis Jr. live in concert in Vegas during the 1960s. Listening to him, you realise how most of his 'humourous' stage act was driven by fear. Tragic.

Also listening to: Blackalicious and The Abyssinians.

Clip of the day is an Engadget spoof of the technology industry, circa 1985. The products are real (I remember when they originally came out). Of course, some of it really takes the piss. Also try 'Hey Brad'.

Overall, it's been a groovy day. Steve sent me a link to my web site (under development). He's done a great job. I better start being nice to him.

Love, peace & respect,

Fearless

Daydreamin' & Christmas Wishin'

Dear Daddy Claus,

Please, please, please can I have the M/V Explorer as my own life-sized Tonka toy? I want to go to Antarctica.



But then, I want to go to Siberia, travelling by train with Stalin lookalikes (maybe that's Byelorussia, with their mad president), and check out the Kamchatka Peninsula,

especially Klyuchevskaya

In return, I promise to behave myself. Indeed I will conduct myself in a manner befitting my age and status. I will even try and behave myself when I meet that mad lady from Reading University, who seems to have a thing for musical steeds and thinks that camels can play rugby.

Quote of the day: "I always said that if I wasn't studying psychopaths in prison, I'd do it at the stock exchange."

Robert Hare, legend in criminal psychology and creator of the Psychopathy Checklist - the P-Scan.

Cruisin'

Writing: a poem

Thinking about: the M/V Explorer. As a long-standing member of a travellers club, I can get a good deal for a trip from Argentina to the Antarctic peninsula. Sorely tempting.

Listening to: 'London is the Place for Me Vol. 2', on Honest Jon Records, and 'Ikoyi Blindness' & 'Kalakuta Show' by Fela Kuti.

A short post about pain...

...yes, the pain of laughter when your dentist, Greg 'This is Good Shit' Theodorou drills you to distraction, making you wonder if deep-throating a woman's vibrator would have the same 'dental' effect.

The pain of him getting his own back on you, when you refer to him as 'the worst dentist in this town and surrounding areas', and he refuses to remove what can only be described as a dental tampon, until I proclaim him 'King Flouride'.

The pain of knowing he has the cheapest supply of laughing gas in the area.

The pain of discovering that Anna's spoken German is not quite as bad as mine - and I lived there!

The pain of a close friend making fun of your limited intelligence, because of your choice of mobile phone (two identical handsets - work and play - so they can use the same car kit) with the line 'So, if I take you outside the office and give you a really good, long, hard kicking-in, you'll still be my friend?'

At least Steve is on the job, working on my web site (is he?)

But enough of that crap. You want to know if I have any good links today. Well, read this article about a search service for the North Korean press. Try the site's random insult generator, based on authentic North Korean press & Government statements. It's so 'Wizard of Oz', and rather 'Disney' - well, if Kafka did Disney, that is.

Check out my stunt goat. I thought King Dong was the only lifeform to faint when stiff. Hang on, that reminds me of a poem:

'Blues for King Dong'

King Dong
With a foot long schlong
Rumoured to pass out
After not very long

Battling
For length supremacy
Against John Holmes
Your authentic contemporary

But there was a shock
Shame on you!
It wasn't your cock
- Just a latex sock

I was going to post a new poem here, but as I haven't written it yet, I won't. So here is a joke from Iran instead, via Gavin Esler of Newsnight:

Four surgeons are discussing who makes the best kind of patient to operate on.

The first surgeon says, "I like to see accountants on my operating table because when you open them up, everything inside is numbered."

The second surgeon responds, "Yeah, but you should try electricians! Everything inside them is colour coded."

The third surgeon says, "No, I really think librarians are the best; everything inside them is in alphabetical order."

But the fourth surgeon shut them all up when he observed: "You're all wrong. Politicians are the easiest to operate on. There are no guts, no heart, no balls, no brains and no spine, and the head and the ass are interchangeable."

Quite.

Love, peace & respect,

Fearless

Junk mail

The Poetry Society sent me a reminder to renew my subscription, so that I don't miss out on all that is pretentious and superfluous on the UK poetry scene. Requiring a PhD in miscellany, and a boredom threshold too high for humankind to attain at this point in time, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, so filed it in the bin.

I also received an invite from Forward Press, inviting me and doubtless other self-deluded scribblers, to join them in celebrating their 15th birthday by sending in my best poem, with a chance of it getting published in a birthday special. I don't know about you, but I have just been seized by the urge to headbutt the Reading to Paddington express train in the area of Maidenhead, which is a station it goes straight through without stopping. Rather that than letting them get hold of any of my work again.

Thinking about: a drinking session between psychiatrists, philosophers and neurologists. You know - Freud, Lang, Jung, Betrand Russell, Oliver Sacks. With absinth.

A post about Love

'Love is what stands when everything goes wrong'. That's what the shadow poet laureate Adrian Mitchell wrote. It also doesn't explain or apologise for its presence or unyielding stature. Love always finds a way, except perhaps, when it's not supposed to 'Be'.

A birthday card from an unexpected quarter made me think about this. When two people are in love, and one struggles with handling those feelings, frequently running away, what can you do? You can try and be friends, but if feelings are running strong on both sides, the friendship won't last long. But neither of you can survive in no man's land, so I guess you have to return to your respective bunkers, and wish eachother a more lasting love in the future. I guess that's just the way it goes sometimes.

The poem below is inspired by that, but is about other things also.


'The Birthday Card'

Crooked finger strums heartstrings,
playing that same old tune.
Retrospection swings into action,
only to stumble, punch-drunk
an ageing fighter groping in the dark.

Introspection lies low,
intoxicated by the smoke
of a distant, seductive horn.

Love conspires with lust
to sing a song that’s sweet,
but the memory of desire is weak,
and as the sigh hushed up
to make way for the lullaby,
the ballad gave way to a blues, bleak.

15th August 2005, in the red chair

My thanks, as always, to 'Da Bomb'.

Now some links. Kitty hospital, the TI 'Speak & Spell' emulator & the hillbilly tribute. Yes, they're all clean and feel free to turn up the sound a tad.

Challenge Anna

Never, ever, go to your staff restaurant and say 'I have no idea what I want. Tell you what, why don't you surprise me?'

Of course, my student life in London - and experiencing the culinary 'delights' of the Cistern Kid - has given me a strong constitution. I ate the concoction of jacket potato, sweet chilli chicken and cheese. She was surprised. Round one to me. But I have this horrible feeling (not in my stomach), that she has gone home to think of something far, far worse for me to ingest tomorrow.

But it was worth it, just to see her initial reaction turn from disbelief into fear, and then utter concentration. It sure beats flirting.

A public service announcement

A pamphlet on blog depression. Required reading for self-deluded cranks like, well, me.

Inqilaab Zindabad

Yesterday I turned 34. Today, Pakistan turns 58, and India will celebrate its independence from the British tomorrow. I'd rather mention that than tell you that one of the greats of soul, blues and rock & roll, King Curtis, was murdered on the very day I was born.

Listening to: the buzzing of hair clippers, Mandrill and Pucho & His Latin Soul Brothers

Thinking about: fish and taking a bath (but not together)

Contingency plans...

The birthday weekend went awry, with our flight to Vienna on Friday night cancelled. No matter, for in good company, you will always have fun.

The iPod Perv and I went to Saffrons in Farnborough, taking on much needed fuel, followed by several pints of 'Comfortably Numb' by the Triple FFF brewery at the Prince of Wales (with cute barmaid from Warsaw). While I was chatty, lucid and in good humour, I was surprised to discover that I had no control over my legs. When we met up with the Cistern Kid at closing time, I had become reincarnated as a pinball, bouncing off fences, bushes, shrubbery, at one point spinning between parked cars - all while chatting normally. It was a feeling I had not experienced since I was 17yo - with the same two companions. Thanks to the Cistern Kid for steering me.

Saturday was welcomed with a wonderful cooked breakfast courtesy of the iPod Perv - and a repeat visit to the Prince of Wales (no more 'Comfortably Numb' - we finished it the night before). Lacking firm plan, we decided to head on into Oxford for the day. We made a beeline for the Ashmolean Museum, by way of a couple of ale houses, weaving through masses of coach-chasing jailbait.

The Ashmolean deserves another visit - by train (parking is a bitch).

Oh, and I acquired rather a lot of vinyl. I felt like 'Jasper the Vinyl Junkie', given the amount of rare funk I picked up. Kudos to Avid Records. I can't wait to spin and shake.

The evening finished up with dinner at Smollensky's. I pity the poor magician who was a) asked to prove his magician skills by making a persons appendage bigger, b) referred to as 'paedo boy', c) introduced to a diner called 'King Zog of Albania', and d) asked to confirm with proof that he had indeed passed through puberty. I just can't behave myself, even when sober.

All topped off with a good old sing-song of that club classic from our college days, the Fatback Band's 'I Found Lovin'.

Thanks to the Cistern Kid & the iPod Perv for making it a great weekend. Roll on Krakow in October.

I know this post is rambling, and I have omitted a lot of detail, but then, it is my blog.

Cheers m'dears, Fearless

Weeellllll, lookee here...

...it says my flight to Vienna is cancelled. That's rough. That means that the Cistern Kid, the iPod Perv and myself must amuse ourselves in the UK. Hmmmmm, I guess that's what real ale and barbecues were invented for.

Unfortunately, this will cost BA dearly, even though the dispute does not appear to be of their making (some BA ground staff at LHR staged an unofficial walkout in sympathy for Gourmet Gate staff - Gourmet Gate is not owned by BA).

One estimate suggests that BA is losing £10M a day during this dispute, which is out of its control, but the damage to the BA brand is far larger - BA seems to have the image of a company that has an industrial dispute every other year.

Planes and aircrew are in all the wrong places, and many people will not fly BA again - at least not for the foreseeable future.

I guess that means that on top of the already high fuel prices, with BA's brand image taking a battering, they will have to cut costs somewhere...which means that they will probably lay off some staff.

I don't think the BA ground staff thought that far ahead, oops.

Thanks all for the cards and pressies.

Did you know that Fearless is really looking to his 34th tomorrow? Why, he has been waiting 33 years and 364 days - he's almost there!

For SuzySue

My office-based big sister 'SuzySue' asked me earlier today what kind of things I write about on my blog. So, to finish the explanation I gave her as I was leaving the office...

...you could have 'Frequent John Cards' - just like frequent flyer cards. As you travel from brothel to brothel, you accrue points. When a 'john' (punter) has enough points, he can redeem them for a service, e.g. a handjob. If he doesn't have enough points, he can supplement his points with cash to execute the transaction. He can also use it for an upgrade, e.g. flagellation by a tranny is 50 points, but an additional $50 allows you to upgrade to receive flagellation by an authentic fistin' midget (small ones are more fun). For the 'budget john', you can opt to forego massage with baby oil, and use lard instead. Don't even get me started on 'code sharing'.

I am tempted to write a business plan, just to test out the economics (I bet some high-class joints have some kind of 'loyalty' scheme - I should ask Volkswagen), and if I had done that during 1999-2000, I probably would have found a venture capitalist to fund it.

There you go SuzySue. Now you know what I write.

Whoops!

As the apprentice rent boy said to the bishop, 'sorry, it was a bit premature of me.' I don't have enough poems in a political/human rights/civil liberties vein to make a collection. I have to write more, or combine them with lyrics on another theme. Somehow, I suspect - I can't tell you why - that my poems about blow-up dolls are not the answer to this problem. They could however, be the answer to a different problem.

Pradip - if you are reading this, can you bring back my book next week please, if you are finished with it?

'Aziz' - as you do a half-decent impersonation of an Egyptian, would you be able to tell me where I can get a 'Ra' ring from, to replace the one I trampled?

I have no poem to post today. Well, I have lots of old ones, but nothing new. Because I haven't written them yet. Yes, that's stretching the definition of 'new' into 'forthcoming', I know. I'll hopefully have some when I return from my birthday bash in Vienna this weekend.

Love, peace & respect,

Fearless

Tell Fearless he doesn't look 34, but instead looks like a hot mamma of 30

Editing as a form of applied procrastination

Editing poetry is proving to be a bit of a drag, especially with the older pieces written under the influence of meningitis - the lack of punctuation throws me off the lyrical scent. So, in the best tradition of 'Ideas Likely to Fail™', I will focus on editing my more political poems for a dedicated collection, to give me some focus (and stop me from flirting at work), and then combine them with photographs. Whatever I learn from that, i'll use in other mini-collections.

Lesson I may re-learn: if it's complicated, you succeed, and if it's easy, you back off and fail

Philosopher's quote of the day: 'Wisdom comes with knowing that there is no such thing', by Socrates (according to Plato, but I never liked his ideas on slavery, so couldn't trust him).

Listening to: the breeze in the trees, which I wish I could mimic, as a fleeting caress on the naked back of one whom I desire.

Respect to: Peter Jennings, perhaps the last of a dying breed. Here is John Simpson's tribute.

Musing over: whether this film will return to the UK after all this time.

Birthday Boy & Co.

The CAMRA real ale festival at Olympia on Saturday was pretty good. I developed a knack for picking crappy ales, but did forgive myself with a pint of Fullers ESB (Extra Special Beer). NYJO (National Youth Jazz Orchestra) were playing, and sounded like a multiple car pile-up in slow motion - why? Olympia isn't a concert hall, but an exhibition hall, so has all the acoustic properties of a giant warehouse. I allowed the din to push me to discreetly 'editing' some of their promo material at the venue. So the brewery tribute song "Young's makes me feel you so" became "Young's makes me feel you so bend over and show me your bum" (that's a clean one). Being the last day of the show, we missed out on some fine ales, but The Cistern Kid & The iPod Perv didn't disappoint.

'The Cistern Kid', aka 'The Pissed-Up Kid'

Sorry, words fail me. Make up your own caption for the 'iPod Perv'

Slaked

Listening to: 'Touro Infirmary' by Dr. John, 'Harlem Country Girl' by Olu Dara & 'Soul Sauce' by Cal Tjader.

Thinking about: procrastination

Alive at 35

A very happy birthday to the Cistern Kid, who will turn 35 tomorrow. He, the iPod Perv and myself will be celebrating. For those with short memories, here's his handiwork, and here he is - yes, he looks young. I met him when he was 17yo, and back then he looked 12yo. Now at 35yo, he looks about 25yo. It's not fair.

Post-lunch Friday punch-drunk post

It's been a very long day, so here are a few oldies.

'September Dreamwish'

For you, the Louisiana circus ringmaster dons sparkly cloak of stellar spells, and conjures a September dreamwish that cloud-floats you on by, by, out of the bayou. As cheeks and eyelids lay down wild yet mellow, slow and low, with the million and one sweet intimacies of water lillies, flecks 'n' flashes light a path, clear of the caves of darkness, down here in the Basin, where the blues vie with lullabies to project your dreamy innervisions. Watch the Mississippi tapestry pass you by in steamboat style, with dancin', carousin' and a gamblin'. Taste the bourbon trickling past your lips, slim. You is my rock-a-bye-baby-sugar-cane, and you don't even know it...

31st August 2004


'Freefall, Brother'

We are joined
together,
in a multitude
of unseen ways,
brother.

Break the bonds
that tie you
to pain, brother.

Come,
hitch yourself
to my star -
it's not far,
brother.

Let us weave,
interconnect,
stellar-spanning
stitches,
brother.

Freefall
with me, brother.

28th April, 2004


'Teflon'

Standing at the crease
I swing hard.
I hear a pleasing thunk;
My bat is smeared in red.
No matter,
for this frying pan
is coated in Teflon®,
and no matter
how many times
I smash you
in the head –
thwick thwacking away
your blood won’t stick
and neither will the charge:
for my lawyer is slick.

Teflon is a registered trademark of DuPont. DuPont do not recommend the use of Teflon cookware for assault or murder and use of the Teflon brand does not imply any endorsement by DuPont of criminal acts. Remember to wipe down all surfaces after disposal.

23rd January 2004

Links for friends

Click these out. Better this than reading more of my poems (i'll spare you the pain for a day or so). A link for the iPod Perv & the Cistern Kid. One here for frustrated physicists, another for computing specialists and finally - SuperSizeMe - with whiskey.

Oh. What the hell. Check out this...errr...pop video. Yes, that's it. A pop video (except it isn't).

Finally, poems from two very fine poets, D and Da Bomb. Check 'em out, these guys know their lyrics...

Love, peace & respect,

Fearless

Not at all sure about this...

...but I did write this piece as a follow on from 'The Talent Scout'. I had envisaged a slightly bizarre, surreal scene, where an interviewer (Alan Whicker or Mary Goldring) was attempting to confront a terrorist, who in the style of delusional nutters everywhere, drifted into a monologue. Do I think it works? No, the piece doesn't work the way I want it to (apart from the last line), mainly because I have been lazy, sloppy and otherwise distracted. However, I post it here in lieu of anything intelligent to say.

What inspired the piece? Current events, past events, future events. A veritable roll-call of the worst offenders including Idi Amin, Samuel Doe, Prince Johnson, Charles Taylor, Pinochet, Stroessner, Papa & 'Baby Doc' Duvalier, Caeusescu, Baader-Meinhof, Red Brigade, Al-Qaeda, Combat 18, etc, etc.

'Diplomacy by Other Means'

'It is too easy to kill. Fire and forget, point and shoot. Click goodbye. Over in the blink of an eye. You can only really kill one at a time - unless you have an army. But fear, that is something else. One person can make a nation cower. You provide the merest hint, suggestion, then sit back and watch each person generate their worst fear from within. Each person will succumb to me through human nature and consider themselves a target.

Puncture the air of tension with the occasional random act, and many will change their routines. They will become the living dead - a walking, talking, gesticulating reminder of my omnipresence. That is far more effective than the body counts we all tune out of hearing when watching the TV news.

When they feel the shockwaves of an explosion, they will think of me before they think of God.'

Damn...

Surprised to discover that D liked my poems 'Hearing' and 'Geek Love Observed from Afar'. 'Hearing' was written in October 2003, just as the illness came to visit, and decided to stay. It was written at a time when I didn't punctuate my poems, which makes it rather free-form - a pretentious way of saying 'disjointed, possibly shit'. He recommended that I drop one word (I agree). I would post it, but I think I should edit it, because I am not quite sure what I was getting at in a specific part of it. However, the ending is a twisted smile - something I still relate to.

As for 'Geek Love...', he recommended I change the title (I agree). He even liked 'Past Loves' and 'Blues for Tanzeela'. His choices are so different to Da Bomb's, the Cistern Kid's and Al's. That's good. I would be worried if they all liked the same poem.

Maybe he's just saying that to get his own back after I freaked him out with a photo of Eddie Berg - his lookalike.

Listening to: Verve Unmixed & Os Mutantes

Not thinking about: naming new products (thanks D) , or my ritual humiliation in front of Anne & 'Suzy Sue' at reception earlier this afternoon

Wondering: why D & Da Bomb like the poem 'Sex Teen Love Doll'. It's just a well-adjusted pervert's shopping list.

Playing with: none of your business, you dirty old gits

Spank me, Fearless

Note to self

Fearless, next time you are talking to a girl you find very attractive, do not start by trying to impress her with your knowledge of Polish cinema, only to finish up by saying 'I also like masturbating to pictures of elephants.'

Oh, and if she compliments you on your appearance, do not make any comment about cross-dressing.

Needless to say, if she is pleasantly surprised to find you write poetry, do not, under any circumstances say, 'Bet you thought I couldn't read and write, huh?'

Apologies to Simon (sorry for the thwack) and of course, to Anna.

An old one

I need to decide what to do with the old poems, like this:

Adventures with ‘Love in the time of cholera’

El amor en los tiempos del colera

Flowers rained from the heavens
on the summer evening I delved between your covers.
A postcard from my soon-to-be lover,
planted in my palm as I read page one -
a love note from your wife’s namesake
to whom you dedicated
your text of love.

Several years later
in the grip of a pandemic
I spread my fever
with another.
A novella-addicted
lover,
transfixed was she.
Alas,
a catalyst was
to become of me.

Moving on,
I plant a copy with
panda eyes.
Adored your words she did,
but dared not read
the last two chapters
lest she lose the connection
that she had shared with me
before I fled.

The night she shares
this long-kept secret,
another enters the ether.
Rosalie, dark-haired vision
of Minas Gerais.
Finding me,
with the swiftness
of internet contagion.

Just what next
will befall me
as fates entwine,
whilst in the cholera grip
of a love that's all mine?

15th March 2004

A flash of fiction

'The Talent Scout'

'Standing on the sidelines. Seeking one from within the crowd. The one with the commitment to make it happen. The one ready to make the sacrifices for that journey from naiveté to reality.

I tell them they're special, gifted and that they are different to all around them. I chose them, and them alone, as they are a breed apart. I listen to them, allow them to vent their grievances and empathise. I tell them how they remind me of myself at that age, and how I wished I had been guided by wisdom.

I give them a taste of what awaits them, and promise more, if they follow me.

I allow them to choose to spend time in my sanctuary, learning both the rewards of following my philosophy and the punishment for transgression – ostracised, hungry for attention. I am their staple diet.

I encourage them, give them the strength to ignore, turn their backs on the ignorant and indolent. In due time, they too will…understand. They come under my wing; I protect them. I train them, helping them realise their potential.

I lend them purpose.

The results of a job well done are divine, exciting. Sometimes, it's explosive. Innocence is cheap. Grooming is paramount.'

17th & 31st July, 2005, Berkshire

Notices

I heard on Radio Four's 'The Now Show' last Friday that certain British-born Muslims have taken to doing things whilst travelling on the tube, to allay fears that other travellers may have eg, reading The Economist, and carrying a bottle of wine with them - to show that they are urbane and not strict. I also got this from Simon :

Da Bomb sent me this a while back:

Good to see that Norm (of Canada) is not afraid of bombs in London (in England).

Watched 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' last night. Free of kids, the adults of boomtown pissed themselves laughing all the way through. Recommended.

Listening to: 'Birth of the Blues', by Sammy Davis Jr (live), 'Birth of the Blues' by King Curtis (a cookin' instrumental), 'Yolanda' by Bobby 'Blue' Bland and the voices in my imagination.

Love, peace & respect,

Fearless