Forever learning...

'A Lesson in Taoism'

The spirit spoke candidly
Pacing
This way and that
Carelessly flicking
Divine cigarette ash
A little impatient
And rather annoyed

'Listen you burk
It's quite simple really
Forget that ineffable mumbo-jumbo
And holier than thou shit
That is just PR
For our conservative constituents'

Hurling me
Through time and space
(He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck
And flung me across the room)
He went on

'Before you can believe
In spirits
Or the world around you
You must first
Believe in yourself
- Just what did you think we gave you heart and brain for?'

Aiding my understanding
(Or perhaps showing his contempt for me)
He drew a diagram

'Mind, body and soul
Think you can remember that?
After all
It begins and ends with you'

I nodded sagely
(Whatever that looks like: I probably looked like George Formby fellating a baboon)

'Circumstances are not important
But your responses to them are'

Lighting another one of my cigarettes
He went on

'Freely give
As you travel
The highways of your life
There is no need to take
Merely ask one
To consider
Doing good for another'

I asked him about strength
He smacked me repeatedly around the head

'Thats not strength
Just brutality
Strength is about
Character
How it's tested
To do the right thing
Come hell or high water'

Recovering composure
I assured the spirit
That I finally understood

'Yeah? Well, you watch your ass
Or I will strut right in
Straight into your dreams
And rearrange everything'

He was gone:
The cigarette was burning a hole
In the carpet
And he took my packet of Marlboro Lights
Git!

But don't get me wrong
I learnt my lesson
Did you?

5th November 2003, hallucinating whilst staring at the ceiling

?

How can two British soldiers be 'undercover' in Basra? Didn't their white skin and English accents give them away?

'Doctor Ho's Theory'

'Perhaps it's your brain
That's giving you this trouble?'

Haha, my life's bane
- The possibility threatens to burst my bubble

I refuse to go home slain
Instead, I make a note: the will to fight, must redouble

3rd October 2003, in the car park, Royal Berkshire Hospital


'Easy Listening'

You merely blanched
at my threats
to make good the payback

You groaned
at the sledgehammers
dull thud,
only to scream
when your nervous system
registered your
shattered kneecaps.

In normal company
you merely bored me.
Now as you
entertain me
with your song of suffering -
from a whisper to a scream
I play Albert Ayler's
insane free jazz
'Truth is marching in'

I turn up the volume

23rd January 2004, another time, another place

To be honest...

...it's high time I wrote some new sh*t. But until I find my notebook, i'll become 'environmentally friendly', and recycle. Here is an old one, that 'Da Bomb!' thought was 'quirky'. Hmmm.

'A Strong Woman'

You are a strong woman

Not because I am weak
Needing direction

Nor because I am a bully
Demanding submission

Just this:
If you are strong
You will understand
Where I am coming from

Do you exist?

19th October 2003


Several unconnected events, involving several unrelated people, over the last seven days, reminded me of this:

'Catalyst'

Catalyst:
1. A person or thing that precipitates a change.
2. A substance that aids or speeds up a chemical reaction while remaining unchanged itself.

My arrival was
unannounced,
spinning, as I was,
in a whirlwind.

I was, to say the least,
quite surprised
that my moonbeam,
flung haphazardly,
was caught.

Strutting across
all obstacles,
I stayed the course,
turning things
helter-skelter.

But now,
the chemical reaction
has run its course.
The catalyst –
this thing
must now return
to the galactic
special effects
cupboard,
ready for the next
spiritual alchemist
to fling a moonbeam.

21st February 2004

A seriously good restaurant

Tyme is a wickedly delicious proposition - their curried goat is the best I have ever had (and the jerk chicken is damn good). It's friendly to boot - Trevor & Lynne Campbell have done a great job, and it's criminal that there weren't enough people there on Friday night. I wonder if I can squeeze in another visit before I go to China? Oh, and there is poetry on the last Sunday of every month. Thanks to Mia for finding this gem.

...and to end, a fluidly funky poem, courtesy of Nikki Giovanni - 'Ego Tripping (There May be a Reason Why)'. There is a cracking reading of this, with musical backing on the CD 'I'm a Good Woman, Vol 2'.

Thinking about: what to do when you meet someone a year 'too late'

Listening to: Pharoah Sanders, Alice Coltrane

'Performance'

Love, is the ultimate equaliser.
No-one has control,
and there can never be
just one victor.

It is often vexing,
to know that to have
feelings is not enough;
they have to be acted upon -
it's instinctive, so they say.

Sure, one could do a '10CC',
and like that ol' song,
fire out disclaimers,
seed the lovescape with
countless red herrings,
and cloak their fear within
a smokescreen.
But, feelings are oblivious.

One can play games,
rope in supporting cast
and play along with the script,
but feelings, aah...
they sit animated
in the director's chair.

One can repress away,
run away if they dare.
But one can never escape,
no matter their pace.
For feelings have
an infinite embrace.

I think he gets it from his mother (who looks like a father, but forget I said that)

Unf**king believable. Thanks to Haiknews - today's news in 5-7-5 syllables.

Oxymoron: Brainbox Bush

Proof that human brains are evolving - and proof, in article and clip, that they are not.

The war on terror was bad luck for Bush. Most 'wartime' presidents can attack a country, but he has felt compelled to attack an abstract concept. What will he do now - corner nature, lay seige to her and attack as night falls? Or will he carpet bomb Lake Pontchartrain?

Quotes

'Used to be, you'd get off your horse, cut its neck, suck some blood, then ride on. We have cars now, but still eat horse.'

Dmitry, as told to Robert Reid


'Two years ago I got John Peel and now he's dead. Last year I got Countdown's Richard Whiteley and he died. This year I got my cousin and I have to keep checking his pulse.'

Former Beirut hostage Terry Waite has trouble finding a celebrity to open his local fete.


'Eolas is not a wealthy company, but sometimes events happen that make you put things into proper perspective. Hurricane Katrina did that for us. We knew we had to try to help in some way, and we decided that doing what we do best, making new kinds of software, would be the most effective way we could contribute to the effort.'

Indisputably, a bunch of total wankers (allegedly)

That segues neatly (not) into this depressing article about disaster management, written funnily enough (for today's media), by an expert.

Thinking about: the politics of pictures, John Hartley, Marshall McLuhan & Neil Postman

Listening to: 80s soul & disco (thanks to Stef for the gift from all those years back)

Wondering: if Pradip will finish & return 'Freakonomics' by Monday, now that I have incentivised him by dumping more of my library's contents onto his desk. Probably not. After all, he has a plastic flowerpot masquerading as a pulsating clitoris on his desk (and he told me it was for his wife).

Lies, damned lies...

...and statistics. If you are not on the electoral roll, and you then die, is your death counted?

Barsaat ke ekh raat

(Trans. from Urdu, 'One rainy night')

Watching: the lightning

Listening to: The Young Rascals, Lenny Bruce and the thunder

Reading: 'Blindness' by Jose Saramago. Re-reading it as events in New Orleans serve as a reminder of the books plot.

Liam Collins

If you are in Reading town centre today, check out Liam Collins do his song and dance routine in Broad Street. Liam is one of the UK's top hurdlers, but being ineligible for lottery funding, busks to keep himself afloat.

Shame on those buggers who watched the show, then walked off without donating a penny.

Stef

Stef is a chap I have had the good fortune to work with and somebody who I regard as a firm friend. Nobody is more authoritative on 80s music (disco, soul, etc) than he. After going out with Ash and myself on Tuesday night, he returned home, only to be traumatised by poetry in his dreams. Here is the result, emailed to me the day after the night before.

'Awake and aware?'

I woke this morning, things in my head.
I wrote them down, and this is what they said:

A raindrop grows, a teardrop falls.
People living, in shopping malls,

A fresh cow pat, a garden rose.
Is that a peg, stuck on your nose?

Winter’s cold, heat by wire.
It’s not really, a mad bonfire

Wellies in the garden, stiletto's for a hoar,
Do you really know, what are these boots made for?

The rain is wet, the sun is high,
A nice big brolly, to keep you dry.

Big aircon cars, Soaps on the telly
I think I’d rather be, Gene Kelly,

The rainbow’s end, the journey start,
Are you scared, to take a part?

I wrote down, what you have read,
so now I’m going, back to bed


Here is Stef, with his magical performing eyebrows, doing their impersonation of Dennis Healey, or is it Leonid Brezhnev?

Stuff

Here are a couple of shots kindly taken by Steve 'As Is' Meleka on Tuesday, by the Grand Union canal in Kings Langley, using 'Coolio' (5MP Nikon Coolpix S1) and featuring one of my recent hat acquisitions.

Here are a few from Friday evening at The Cornstores in Reading, taken with a 2MP Sony Ericsson W800i handset.

The 'iPod Perv' highlights his 'Lonely Boy Lost' expression

Ashraf, the barman who considers me 'naughty' (with Jacqui standing at the bar)

The 'Cistern Kid' & 'Ironhide' biding their time

Now, a brief note to myself.

Dear Fearless

The next time a young lady notices you, takes time out from her birthday bash in the pub to speak to you, hugs you and kisses you, it is fair to say that she is interested. It is a good idea to give her your phone number, so do try to remember it, or at least get her number into your phone, you drunken schmuck. You don't get points for remembering her name, you putz. Oh, and stop swearing at yourself in Yiddish.

Ciao, Fearless

A bad week if you're poor...

...whether in Paris or New Orleans. Read the transcript of a radio interview given by the Mayor of New Orleans, Ray Nagin. I think it says it all. You left if you could afford to, and if you couldn't...you tried to find higher ground, or go to the stadium. If you survived without water and food, escaped the violent assaults, and haven't been poisoned by toxic fumes from the explosion at the nearby chemical plant - then...well, then what?

Much of what bad stuff happens is often attributed to a god, e.g. comments by Islamic or Christian extremists. Thankfully, almost all people of all faiths ignore such bigotry, set aside their differences and get on with the relief effort.

If God® exists (and I keep an open mind on the matter), then he/she/they/it will be keeping a very low profile - or vastly expanding his/her/their/its customer complaints helpline - or getting a new PR agency. If he/she/they/it is smart, they'll have a 'below the radar' job - maybe as a mild-mannered janitor - like Hong-Kong Phooey.

It sucks. And it really hurts.

Reading: 'The Shadow of the Sun' by Ryszard Kapuscinski

Listening to: old skool rap, underground disco and movie soundtracks

Disposition: sunny (apart from having to work from home today)

You wouldn't believe it, but...

...a genuine TV pitch that probably won't get taken up.

Oh, and something for all wannabe rock stars. Check out the story at the bottom of the home page.