H@RMONY

2011-12-11T19:28:00.000-08:00

I see the light! Hallelujah! Takes the piss. BUT, there is a grain of truth, a truth I want to witness today, brother and sister. Care to should you wish, look at the themes about which I wrote at the start of blogging. Premature, you might say, but how did I gaze at the crystal and speak emphatically about revolution? Possible world-wide revolutions, though totally crazy, are only a single aspect of the new start blooming with many fragrant blossoms. One year ago, it was over for me, world fucked, humanity in self-destruct. Then a week ago, somethings began to look different. I am usually in step with the tao/zeitgeist, suddenly, I reviewed half a dozen of my favourite indicators to confirm once more that we are fucked. HOWEVER, the readings I am getting are that every indicator I reviewed is moving a few precious degrees out of the danger zones that concern us all. The elite are on the move, ensuring the plebs get nowhere. It is in the hands of fate; fancy your chances white boy? Might be a global 'mexican wave' of riots! The other intriguing indicator, being that major issues which constantly sadden us or cheer us up, can always mix up with volatile, unpredictable triggers that change a contained spell of rioting into total revolutionary mayhem. I am so glad that Cameron is sweating, lets get Europe lit up and send the suits to Siberia! Next job: look at the indicators and display the arguments that rightly must attract scrutiny. 

2011-11-23T17:36:00.000-08:00

Reason # 1 for being sick was to stay home. #2 was to eradicate as much stress as I can from our lives. 3, to avoid the consumerist/greed mentality. With incredulity, see the ongoing in's and out's folk are encountering day in, day out. The world brings us change. Never ever have we witnessed the fall of an ideology of the scale of capitalism. D'you understand that having been crushed for a few hundred years under the seething mass of Leviathan, the social contract is up for inspection. Obesity is with us at the threshold, a major sign that the state has itself desired to lose a few pounds. Possibly, were we to tend the world that is going to hate humanity, accept the wisdom of children and the preparations for a paradigm shift, there's your redemption except we only redeem ourselves in secular world peace. I say emphatically that we have to ditch religion and politics. We have to stop destroying our children's world, listen properly, come with no preconceptions and believe they talk amazing sense. Nick Shipley refuses to think like an adult. We are all in dreadful pain, we are frightened, angry and aggressive. Do what you need to do to reach a standstill. Stop.

Picture this: we do not judge others, there are absolutely no pretexts for war. Every living thing is part of us, our love comes from our bellies. Hate is totally pasteurised (whatever).

2011-11-18T18:04:00.000-08:00

Dave's putting on weight and, deary me, doesn't he sweat! Hairless, pasty Dave, what is going on! He has measley Merkle and the mysterious wam bam Obama to prop up his mortal remains.

There's hippies on the loose in the hoose. I don't work any more I've decided. I'm waiting for the next great thing. I aint propping up the bar at the social club. I am waiting to die, which I recommend to any folk looking for any pretext to obfuscate the stench of auto - immolation.

Horny old Sarkosy! Cuddles with Merkle to the tune of "any old iron." Get that old bier in a bock down yer neck. Anyone doing 2 economies for the price of one? Did yer spot the expansionism? The arch head of Deutschland uber alles rattles its sabre.

Angela and Nicolas sitting in a tree k i s s i n g...

Something has snapped. Soon the wolves come for the payback. If folk have been listening to the right channels, in the city, our brothers and sisters, awaken the inner urban peace-fighter.

Some cling to the current expression of social order and safety, some will have to hear the message which proliferates across UK but offers little interpretation. It's emerging - interpretation is the vehicle of the lying historians and politicians.

Just honouring tendencies that raise the vulnerable up who through many ways of suffering bring truth to bear on the job of building harmony in the home and modelling ideas for many types of community.

I'm intrigued by the ways that politicians and pundits curve the public take. Judging by the sweat on Cameron's feverish brow, someone is heading for the proverbial cowpat and custard pies at dawn. Let he who has not sinned cast the first pie.

Z.

2011-11-12T21:37:00.000-08:00

Caution disallows me from inciting riots. See the seedy politicians run their nicotine fingers behind their grimy collars. The noose tightens around the scrawny necks in Westminster and London City. Austerity? Riots? "Eat Jaffa cakes.." I want to tell the world that it will never ever be the same again. "You best sit out the preliminaries, mensch." Many folk occupy the Clearing in the heart of Being. Harmony's abode. Every soul on earth might see the day when they figure out the grand illusion. Hoping I will be able to blog for a while..

2010-10-15T08:18:00.000-07:00

Just basically, the laptop I used a while back no longer works, hence quick pinch of the work computer. Bill for connection unpaid for six weeks. Half pay due to extended sick leave taking me down. Hand to mouth mostly. Catch you later.

Z.

2010-09-10T14:53:00.000-07:00

Nothing is so ludicrous as a grown man fluffing his lines, lousing his q&a's, attracting the mirth of a smart ass.

Me, I, get the gist of loving kindness, compassion, lack of ruthlessness. Where did the punks learn about dogged domination?

It makes me want to die to the tune of "Vincent."
I cannot tolerate the perpetual backbiting, hatred and hardness in every corner of Earth. All the unheard sobs and screams of unloved children by their millions.

Adults who hide in the abhorrent misnomer, cool and sure. Yeh, sure I can. Stepped up to the mark only becoming completely certain that word is being used to direct murder and abuse at millions deemed inadequate.

I see, feel and hear the crimes perpetrated in the name of reason and the lies told to children. No-one need to keep progressing, developing and competing year after year. The children pick up the baton so olympically, primed by didactic abusers. Because I know this is true and wrong, I am dodging the 'draft'.

Am I the oldest revolutionary? No. But where are the rest?

Z.

2010-09-04T17:57:00.000-07:00

I know the difficulties of aiming over other's heads or being tediously obvious. Two or three paradoxes linking the wholly inadequate spatial and temporal explanation of my/our id/s. That moment in time shattered by the emergence of LSD consciousness and analysis by Freud et al., consists of the capped thrustings of the little employed eternal spring where language seeps through the crystal brook into the eternal mind.

Id is associated with madness, and mercurial wordsmithing. Id is playing with friends and strangers. It is on it and in essence, narcissus. Where, here, is the linkage with death? Here I am, just 10 minutes from dying, it makes a mockery lottery of having lived those 10 minutes, the last day or year. Does death do about me, sensationally, of turning the carcass of my whole existence inside out. In an act of barbarity the story ends, it was purely my private viewing to illustrate a few decades where I dabbled a while, tarried on the way, fucking wild!

Z.

2010-07-26T19:32:00.000-07:00

Socrates proferred the best advice I ever had: young man, as well as bringing out all that is within you, your task on earth is to ensure that you remain prepared at all times, to die.

Fantasies about afterlives, heaven and life-everlasting would prevent me from attaining the greatest understanding of death that is much clearer, the more vibrant and exalted the life that is led.

This is the song of songs, the lord of the dance, the watercourse way.

This is death: I have been aware of the following image for quite a while. What remains, what is extant of what existed and persisted until death fell into a gap between the paving slabs? The argument works mostly for atheists, those lberated from the christian bullshit.

I hold the wick that remains after the complete candle has been eroded by the flame, but I lie palpably dead. Then all that is said and done, this aliveness I have, my invigourated corpse, how? a split second? a nanosecond? surely not some trick of beingness and nothing?

Death is a parameter. Form is the way it is, only because death gives it its boundaries. Mountains and forests reach the limits of their natures by dint of the limiting function of death.

To be, or not to be, that is the question.

Z.

2010-07-23T17:41:00.000-07:00

Bin Tryin commentin' on "Rings around." Can't get no satiisfaction dudes."

2010-07-03T03:59:00.000-07:00

2010-06-18T15:18:00.000-07:00

"My only friend, the end." All us dudes pickin' up now on the final countdown. This dude goes hipper and the cool turns to steam as dust and ash pulverises the man that needs to think. Revelations and acknowledgement of tantra and gnosis that gets revealed while chatting, get fucked over by the burning, searing firestorms of hell on earth. What? A miracle? Having a laugh? As far as I can see, everyone right now and right here, fucking well knows that mankind is fucked. If I lie down, is it then quite easy to die?

Z.

2010-05-22T19:27:00.000-07:00

So dickhead was a boozer! Blair, the pixi finally went in search of his own colon. And "the Boyz" have finally caught up with the final fronteer, where no man has gone before (except Blair who really wants to know where shit comes from.) I relish the day the two buerks slip, tumble and eventually head a dreary procession of wannabe's out to the back of beyond. Possibly, some even younger blade will excite the oldies, mostly conservative (fearing the worst as they are, by definition, 'scardy cats,'). Oldies are pointless (those that are part of the problem) and youngsters need to know this shit. Look punks, don't reform democracy, ditch it. Consider the paradigm shift proposed by those who are growing the seeds of global recovery. ? Listen to the wind of change breezing through the people, and simply think very briefly, "where am I going?"
I don't have a forking clue.

2010-05-15T15:25:00.000-07:00

Here's post 299.

This post occurred to me upon pondering a photo of David Cameron. Which, led me back to a comment I heard last week, describing how political leaders in Britain generally emerge from the 'public' schools and 'Oxbridge.' Normally by now, I would castigate the emergence of an elite in a hierarchical power conveyencer based on monotheistic premises. Look at it this way, the real world no longer requires nurse maids. All these idiots are wasting our lives away, staying at the highest point they can achieve, living the lie of bad faith. They rely on the thrills and spills of public office to coalesce the high table of myths, structures and applied philosophy, which in turn mould their judgement calls and make them to all peers, a platter of intellectual sweetmeats.

One year back, that awful prospect of dumbing down power structures by abandoning high culture, was a position I attempted to introduce. The class divide widens since Thatcher. Two of my kids aren't the best spellers, loads of kids can't spell. People I meet stop believing and struggle to get into public schools for their kids.

It bemuses me that millons of people are content, and crave that good old 'standard life.' In a godless, pointless universe, they are spot on, 'run the straight race' and bonus! Life after death, paradise in abundance! I think there might be a revolution, how do I fucking know?

Just freedom, and, oh yes, integrity.

Z.

2010-04-22T03:51:00.000-07:00

Allez les femmes!

In many ways, there has been little change in how women are portrayed in the various media. Some can still be found draped over expensive cars and posing in dirty magazines. Obviously there are tons of persistent objectifications going on. Who are the biggest victims of pornography? Not women this time, it's the men. Each time a punter debases himself while he wanks for Britain, he loses a part of his intergrity as he sees women there for his needs. You might ask about how I have the gall to point an accusing finger, how am I beyond reproach? Only like a good soldier, am I liberated from the saucy/sexy trap by self training, by remaining celebate and the realisaton that what I am doing brings its rewards in spades. So don't bother throwing your toys from the pram, you just career around the sweet shops stuffing your faces. If you meet a real woman one day, hope she can be bothered to help sort yourself out. Anyone sense the directions being taken by womankind? It's there to see. I'm afraid that we men are becoming a bit of a laughing stock. It's real, y'know - who might be best placed to supplant the international male aggression leading to warfare? Women are gradually closing off access by men to the castle keep. I hope they have some compassion left to share.

Z.

Z.

2010-04-14T16:56:00.000-07:00

Trees are brilliant. They represent so much of nature's epitome. Lungs in summer and brains in winter. Shafted like a penis, hugging not aware it is sexual. Trunks surge from within the earth and occupy their stature with pride and ownership. Every year I turn to the trees to furnish me with a reality check, winter's cold comfort and humiliation yet saved by the grace of each miracle. The miracle to those in cahoots with the dudes with a bark.

Z.

2010-04-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

Among what memories I have of philosophy I did during my undergraduate years, political philosophy has been the more valuable to me of the disciplines. One of the more telling misnomers I came to attribute to crackpot philosophy, is, 'freedom.' Many humanists assert that the crown jewels of politics are individual freedoms. Above, torture, false imprisonment, suppression &c. A free society is one where personal freedoms are numerous and protected. Freedom I speak of, however, is exactly the humanist grail that God is to religion or nirvana is to buddhism. Specifically, it remains a great requirement to superimpose humanist freedom at its highest expression and experiential meaning with nirvana. Few grasp this key to the basis of humanity-oriented social and personal Liberation. It is pointless to point out the systems of this, future, human endeavour. Seek only the perfect freedom as you chase this, the most exhilirating of the pantheon of chinese symbolist guides, the dragon.

Z.

2010-03-24T17:02:00.000-07:00

There are a huge number of issues day to day that scream in the face of justice and promote the supremacy of wealth. I have a hefty fine for having no road tax. My lovely car is beat up because I cannot repair it. Then comes the fine for no road tax. Fuel prices have become unbearable. Who drives car these days? Anyone who can afford it. Who does the law work for?Mainly the well off. Two tier health services, two tier road traffic, two tier nourishment. Is mr. average smug? Tens of thousands of men, women and children die from disease and poverty. So. Mr. average, what have you got to give? Mr. rich man - you fucking asshole. I row daily from debateable poverty, I've been married 20 years. I point out the shit wc all have to live with in this pathetic hierarchy, but I don't get a paycheck. I spot a rich twat having a fucking laugh but no-one here cares jack shit. Me? Outside the box forever. Does existentialism pay my bills? Don't fucking go there.

Z.

The elegant logic of poverty

2010-03-21T14:49:00.000-07:00

Fate abhors a vacuum. This is apparent in pecunary dialectics. Viz., the greatest exposure to the rigours of 'just need 1p and I can just get that; toilet roll, milk or loaf, ' I find it a phenomenal, one of the greatest truths I have ever come across, that fate and sister luck wreak a merciless toll on people who have no market legitimacy. Society is so averse to poverty that beggars on city streets are too ugly to look at. Having struggled for days at a time, getting money in desperate places, anything to augment the little buying power I have. In direst times, almost dickensian issues assail me, day in, day out. Does wonders for my street cred but nothing for my kids. It is disturbing to me that this level of collusion between bad luck and cash looks like a sickening truth that undermines and writes off an important well-guarded truth that 'don't worry, everythings gonna be alright.'

Z.

2010-03-20T09:12:00.000-07:00

Justice can be the main conceptual plank of the coming world order.

Christianity puts judgement at the centre of its world view.

Taoism says quite simply that the human development that allows judgements about every single human event, IS the Fall.

Every last one of us, judges millions of phenonema during our lives. This also leads to the appearance of cleverness and as we all judge one another, judgement has become a totally major human industry.

This proposal occurred during a visit to a client who is also becoming a friend. Soon after we met, Paul confirmed that his ancesters were Hill People from the area of Sherwood Forest. It is Paul who led me to understanding Justice better and somehow the use of judging.

We accept the myth of Robin Hood, which must have first entered folklore centuries, if not, millennia ago.

Does this permit that England has, in fact maintained a primordial link with justice and even judging, where Folk were fed and nourished by a hero who stole from the rich?

Is English democracy just the epitome of fair play? Is this why our justice has endured and remains the envy of the world?

Is it time for 'levellers' to walk the city streets? Merlin and King Arthur to ensure our play is fair?

Luddites to put the case for decluttering this over-technical world?

Allow this offering to stand side by side with the clamour for a popular revolution that maybe, the organ grinders will no longer find the stomach to sabotage.

Zoro.

2010-02-28T13:04:00.000-08:00

Thatcher caused rich businesses and 'baptised' the stock broker belt. All the young dudes have lives full of great fitness and they all buy into firm fitness and 'handle' inconvenient glitches. Conversational charades and hot topics prove to the players that they're right to see a beautiful person staring back from the mirror. Reality must be just as it is, as 'all' have been switched on. Was Thatcher informed by the work of Mengele? By contrasting the withs with the withouts, and the greatest withs with the destitutes, are some yuppies joining the withs in the belief that they 'help' others by becoming rich and wealthy? Thatcher is a bitch: a curse on her house. The special gift possessed by the nouveau riche is appropriate 'husbandry' of the poor to ensure they will never again rise on the back of a famine or exuberant expectatons. It does seem that the spell cast by the bitch has been played out from the heart of new labour. Nowhere near enough of the underclass can figure all of this out, too busy scraping up a pound for rizlas. Who in the military deals with the taliban about how much heroin gets to the streets of UK?

Z,

2010-02-14T13:31:00.000-08:00

My team at work, worked on teamwork last Monday. In my team role as a "Plant", the colleague with a tsunami of worked up new ideas, I played around, with my team, experimenting with each others attributes, written down on yellow post-its. A woman arranged all of our gifts in concentric circles with secret attributes enticingly protected by a small circle of overlapping post-its.

In such a close-quarters, sublime few moments of creativeness, what I saw on the A1 sheet of paper, was a lotus flower with petals that persisted in opening.

As a little bit of a mystic, the image of this beautiful flower forever revealing its secrets, took me to the writing of a self-made mystic called Douglas Baker. In beautiful prose and exquisite illustrations, I learnt an early lesson about the Ego of a disciple.

He taught that there exists an 'egoic lotus' whereby our selves become so deep in time as the petals unfold, that we prepare ourselves for our egos inperturbable acceptance of self-actualisation.

I had an early exposure to mysticism through reading many books and although I avoid alot of the deeper paths, I see no more usefulness in playing the sceptics card.

Z.

SOUL

2010-02-13T15:24:00.000-08:00

Funny how "credit crunch" as an expression, has been hurried away, dumped in the spin doctors' recycle bins. Quiet have gone the grumblings about rich people's bonusses and multibillion bail-outs of the banks. Of course things need to 'chill out' before the prols come aknocking at the door of the Bank!

When it is time to lob currant buns and teacakes out to parliament square, that's when les Boys fall back on the claims for expenses so at last that high class moat is built around the Mother.

Now we have seen Les Boys jacking up the fruits of the Afghan Calamity, playing at their devious little games of cowboys and indians, I crave so pointlessly for news of the arms dealers and Walmart's own brand of one minute soup.

Still, I guess we'll all laugh about it in years to come. Saying stupid things is the speciality of the very young and the very old. I do it because I don't give a fuck.

We are a bit of a quirkey lot, us people. Two weeks in Espagne and Sunday stripteaze? Yes please!

Z.

2010-01-31T16:29:00.000-08:00

Some comrades steer their way through the shoals and reefs placed to draw the innocent to their 19th hole spiritual vindication. Of course the pensions and the life insurances help. Also useful, the Sundays worshipping lord god almighty. The perms, blue rinses and wigs make the secret loathing a very private affair. The truth about the club 50+? Batonned the hatches down for the mirth the club 50+ knows it deserves. My family bears the cross of husband and father that simply cannot play the white man's game. No, it's not nobility or politics (this is however what I choose), it's bi-polar disorder, the ghost in the machine. Why does a life with constant originality from which people choose paths that are predictable, cause global suffering in the quid pro quo where predictability is the greatest harm on a planet of people too scared to let go?

Z.

2010-01-31T15:05:00.000-08:00

"Eternity."

Life, to me , makes much more sense, as long as eternity floats my boat.

25 years past, I accidentally overdosed on fly agaric fungi. At some point during my sleep, I ended up living forever. I was trapped in infinity. These days the greatest quality of our universe to me, is the totally unmistakeable fact that by pure incontravertability, every single iota of all things that are, are eternal.

It is not about god, its not about Earth, it is not about Obama, China, or me. My universe is perfect and unstressed, it possesses all possibilties to achieve utter perfection.

In the words of Bob Marley, a loving man, "Don't worry about a ting, every tings gonna be alright."

Z.

2010-01-25T15:07:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you the story of mussels cooked in garlic and Muscadet sur Lie. Get your mussels for 2 euros 50 per kilo in Leclerc or Casino. 1 kilo serves 6. Fry 3 fat cloves of pungent garlic briefly in olive oil. Chuck in the mussels, 'fry' for 3 minutes. Pour half a bottle of Muscadet into the deep pan and bubble for 5 minutes until the mussels open up, serve but discard the unopened ones.

Simple.

I can also sleep on a sofa, ride a motorcycle, enjoy watching Corrie, Eastenders and Hollyoaks, pick my nose to upwards of 80% satisfaction ( used to enjoy eating bogies, but got shamed to pack it in.), driving like a real man in the snow, thinking about harming others (mainly people who have a problem with my driving, and/or cut me up. I find it quite hard to get on with anyone who is not my clone, and (chauvinistically) I find it difficult to come to terms with the use of makeup.

I hate CCTV except when it depicts me writing creatively on my daughter's laptop at 23.35 and which I sell to other artists under the rubrik, "quornography,"

This suggestion lies docily at the heart of vegetarianism thus expressing the essence of the sexuality and depression syndrome calling all to evaluate why do they keep shagging. Do or die? I don't think so.

Z

"All that we need to do, is keep on talking."

2010-01-24T05:19:00.000-08:00

Words eh? Fuckin' hell. CAN'T YOU ALL FUCKIN' SHUT UP? The Guessors, The liars, The self-publicists, The believers, The prophets and all the rest.

You are a fucking waste of breath, nothing is ever going to save you from certain death. Every machination of avoidance tactics like shopping, fucking, reading, boozing avoids and masks the one certain truth from your eyes.

I have spoken to a couple of folks to pose the greatest question the heres and nows may ever pose: "Why is the passage of time getting faster?" We all know it but I have never met a person who can answer that question.

Seems like a physics/e=mc2 kind of question. I once read about a physicist who spoke of the refraction of the speed of light. Might just get off my fat ass and find out.

Z.

Paradigm Shift

2010-01-15T13:05:00.000-08:00

One day, whilst proselytizing Recovery, a brand new concept in supporting and framing the best of the emerging principles of mental health services, I found in my "back pocket" a surging thoroughbred complex, nourishing a totally different world order that so begs the world's attention, tantamount to paradigm shift, actually, the power and inspiration of a long-anticipated spiritual and intellectual revolution.

In mental health, in UK, recovery demands the adulation of the old school potboilers: social and medical models. Recovery gleams in the eyes of those seeking change to old unhelpful systems. Paradigms are simply put, the totality of received wisdom that glues the prevailing version of 'reality.' Recovery is the protagonist that I get kicks from all my gleeful working days. What strikes me is how emotionally lifted I feel as the meaning of 'paradigm shift' flashes across my increasingly hungry mind.

The paradigm shift has begun, love has found a way, god bless america.

Z.

2009-12-28T16:17:00.000-08:00

Now that I have seen to the motherfuckers, for my next trick: a question. What is it that requires that every person's life must be full with meaningful activity? Even down and outs fill their lives with drinking. Imagine going to work and everyone in the office is pissed up? Why is alcohol so good? Because it comforts drinkers and obviates the need to search fruitlessly for happiness and meaning. No-one needs a sermon from a twat like me. All I'll say is that, lost for words, when my life has been stripped bare from time to time, there is nowhere to hide from total pointlessness and contingency. Lay bare yourself in private then go out and wail like an asshole or sob like a jilted lover. See that the reasons we give ourselves for our sophisticated charades and affectations arise from the greatest human trait - to be for eternity, ludicrously de trop. Enjoy your games earthlings, the reaper casts a long shadow at the beginning of the end.

Z.

2009-12-28T15:23:00.000-08:00

Why can't the stupid cunts see how consumerism is bad in toto for each other and our Earth? They're fucking buying this and fucking that to feather their fucking cuckoo's nest. Dumb fucks - wake the fuck up motherfuckers.

2009-12-27T18:58:00.000-08:00

It is not possible for me to regret the passing of Michael Jackson. Essentially, he was a parasite. People who allow themselves to be lured by a media intent on securing any quantity of dollar they can, proclaim the boredom of any number of days without vicarious rows, splits, gaffes or weddings.

I was, long ago, an enemy of pop culture. And then I began to move into the centrifuge of normalisation. Now once again, I insist that pop culture is part of the problem, not the solution. Increasingly, the trend towards individuality makes the mistake that individuation isn't the solution, but fashionable individuality is the new spirituality because it challeges norms.

Sorry kids - time to move on.

Grumpy old git I am sometimes, labouring under false pretences, thinking that I can so understand youth culture while life spills out from between my fingers unrecapturable, like an estuary ebbing out to the ocean.

As I start soaring above the melee and fray, young kindred ride as high as my sky, hopping off my back to spy the lands and oceans down below as they plummet towards Earth, their kicks seem like the rights of the births each was equipped with, enough to bring to the headteachers, magistrates' benches, and paedophile priests.

What a fucking legacy.

Z.

Buddha this, buddha that.

2009-12-06T01:49:00.000-08:00

Mine is the cutest wood-carved buddha I bought for £60 at an Ashton Court festival a while ago. The good old chap allegedly attracts riches while money is placed under his base. Fact!! Not a rich uncle sent us £1500 2 weeks ago. I had placed £35 under his base 4 weeks ago, then to forget all about it! We had suffered needlessly (?) on a couple of occasions for want of a fiver.

I treat my budhha with respect; this makes the magic work when it is actually needed.

I keep my buddha close, buddha thrives on humility and self-effacement. Reaping happiness and joy to which no claim is made and to which I do not cling. There is no thought I may care to bid it bide a while. No mind keeps itself clear.

Trying in public to remember that loving kindness can stop animosity before it starts.

The path of liberation is exactly the same as the unfolding egoic lotus.

Let go of what is within before it does you harm. (paraphrase).

Z.

Bad god dead god

2009-12-02T14:38:00.000-08:00

Above all other creeds, is the one that states that "god is love." There may be a fundamental flaw in biblical descriptions of such a loving god. At the inception of evangelical dogma, god got elevated to the unenviable role of being the world's one true heavenly father. At this point, every other belief system on Earth became randomly defunct, not fit to stand in the presence of such a greedy god. If god was so supreme, why do we stand 2000 years after the death of jesus in a world where christianity continues to vie with many other beliefs? If s/he is a god of love, why are christian societies as adversairial as they have been for 2000 years? In Nick's world, love, or loving kindness is the world's default morality, a belief which I admit derives from early personal exposure to the christian faith plus a later overlay of buddhism. This 'philosophical lottery' lies at the roots of hugely successful societies, where diversity nourishes and reflects the massive moralities stealthily usurping the laws of diverse gods only useful for 1 or 2 millenia at a time. You have nothing to lose but your chains, 'freedom is the new black' if I may be so bold? The king is dead, long live the king.

Z

2009-11-20T18:09:00.000-08:00

What is the difference between a misanthropist, a philanthropist and a humanist? Answer? None. Each exists for the other in equal measure at one time or another.

Hate people, love people, just people. It concerns me that wherever I join the gang, ordinary people habtually outvie their personalities on which they will rely for decades to come. Because, they realise they are trapped in the roles they began to learn 10 years before.

Lives become increasingly fashioned by a series of opportunities or threats that were preferably shaped according to forebear's rulers and compasses. Few ever peeped outside their boxes, a miniscule amount could live outside the boxes.

I wonder if time is wasted trying to differentiate between authenticty and excitability? Really nice people you might place in the new world order, turn out to be militarists or racists. Normal people dread dropping conversational "stiches" I can look nuts by pointing out an interest either in nature or architecture.

Everyone craves inclusion as well as credibility, anyone who is eccentric provides an opportunity
to the credible to sharpen their claws and behave patronisingly. How close to authenticity is this? Never mind, get back in your box and think of Utopia.

Z.

2009-11-10T16:01:00.000-08:00

About this, I stand so out of line with Joe Public, namely the remembrance issue. Because I have a tendency to mock nationalism including strong national identity because both create strong judgements about "foreigners" and because this provokes racism which I abhor, I am unable to mourn or be seen to mourn war dead, men and women who "fought for queen/king and country. There's a huge issue of emotional blackmail where all us citizens ought to be grateful to receive hard-won freedoms courtesy of the sacrifice of others. A huge contingent of mainly young men were equally duped by grandiose promises made be our national political and military leaders. It would be patently foolish to point out the utter futility of war such as Vietnam and millenia-old disputes over the Khyber Pass, politicians and generals seem fetishistic about digging up the past as if the past needed their guardianship. I say "bury the past with its dead", come to live with us in this place of immediacy and leave all those poppies in Flanders.

Z.

2009-11-04T16:42:00.000-08:00

Our local school calls itself, "Oasis Academy Brightstowe." It has done what can only be described as godifying itself (sorry about neologising, not even a decent attempt). The fuckers sent home a burgundy (puke) little new testament with my daughter that I inserted at the very back of a drawer full of crap. Where are the potted versions of the koran, the tao te ching and a couple of sutures (-)? Right! Nowhere! Christians are fully communing with the big daddy of world faiths, and my daughter is blessed with attending a school brimming with the fervour of the true followers of christ the lord aka the son of the top dog. I am so going to pay for this somewhere along the line. I still haven't cashed in my god-given free will however. That'll be a hotel on Mayfair please and all the stations (of the cross, I guess.)

Z.

2009-11-01T14:56:00.000-08:00

As a congenital outsider, it occurred to me to question the apparent contradiction that, blessed with above average intelligence, I can now at 49 pull a measly £20,000. But that is precisely it: unable and unwilling as I am, to adopt the communication choices and moeurs of normal British people, my ostracisation stems from sounding and appearing 'odd.' But as I age and start to accept the wisdom of placing the appropriate grunts in the appropriate places, people smile at me more and encourage me to reciprocate, warmth and humanity. 30 years of sceptcism and paranoia draw me close to a tender, less angry place. It remains in my power however to study the shiny happy people and ask myself if they can understand me talking about the Emperor's clothes or if they took on board the perspective's of Gide's, "Les Faux Monnayeurs"? Bad Faith or Facticity? The role vs. the person, the worker vs. the revolutionary?

I was as mad as a Tasmanian Devil when a property program on TV made it completely commonplace to buy a house according to school catchment area, young couples planning the time of their lives and an educated bourgeois dynasty based on the price of fish, tide times and an hour of reflexology every month. The empty whisky bottles are not a source of local gossip, so they get buried like shame in the shameful black bin whose millions of bottles of Famous Grouse end up at the tip enticing young new age paupers to ask the question: "What if?"

Z.

2009-09-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

Call me old-fashioned, I work alongside hip dudes mostly atheists mostly well to the left of Karl Marx. Right now, I stay at a distance while I carry out my own secret reality checks. Meaning, who's buying in and who's buying out. Going back a bit I was friends with a network of young french intellectuals who lived in small communes mostly in the Ardeche. On the door to one of the houses, someone drew a picture of a cute duck with the expression, "Take off your mask through entering this place." Over 4 years, I found a pathway to excrutiating parts of my character time and time again. I have not found the way to nirvana quite as well as I did then. I know that everyone strove for the very peak of the mountain the likes of Cat Stevens sung of in praise. Zion is close, the rastas know this. Rastafarianism is like this.

Let your yes be yes and your no be no.

Z.

The Birds

2009-09-07T14:51:00.000-07:00

Down in Devon there's a place I know where I love to feed the nuthatches, the jays and the woodpeckers. It's so spectacular, and peaceful, even quite exciting.

In Bristol last winter a few long tailed tits dropped by and a family of green finches,

This summer I heeded the seagulls and the pigeons; the magpies shipped out for a bit. Of what?

I love birds because they can fly, I am able to imagine the demands on the muscles of their bodies. I see inside their views the ground 40 feet below and the way they turn and navigate between the high walls and rooves. Hooray for them, the birds!

I tell you - trust nature; animals and birds provide our every need, yes! Guidance too - the inner voice of Gaia our planetary soul sister.

Z.

2009-09-04T15:04:00.000-07:00

16 is the age of revolution, the start of it. Working with disadvantaged teenagers, the talk and bonding around drugs, drink and criminality cannot be penetrated completely atall by adults (shit word crap). Kids see the world's future, we see the past. Cos I felt the issues of '68 , I am impatiently hoping the next summer of love is coming. Honestly? The summers of love get stronger, are getting palpable. Look to all the kids, they are already the future; as to day's hippies, the stoners, the E's, the ketamins, their groups of no order keep grown-ups out. I want to say I know, but my face, my age locks me out, but to have a say at all I reject the crap of lying down quietly (old). I just know that brilliant trip they're on. I keep my stories to myself. Politicians fuck about with 100 year old head fucks and mutter in hairy groups about 'the Balkans or Persia or Rhodesia. You all grew old you wankers, fuck you politician twats, fuck you, fuck off to a place of safety.

Z.

2009-08-26T15:11:00.000-07:00

The focus of buddhism is liberation, of Taoism, progressive liberation. Zen is a dressage event, the best possible practise of, buddhism and Taoism. In buddhism, are the practioners not the 'gods?' Godhood is for everyone, christianity gives up the moment that it starts. Heaven on earth is the be all and end all honoured by the stages of liberation that assures we are alone, sole custodians. The risk of committing our tenure of earth to a dead prophet and using centuries old dogma to back this suicidely foolhardy 'endorsement', is criminal at the very least. Righteousness is the soother of all christians and they have massively re-inforced positions. Am I the anti-christ? You decide.

Z.

2009-08-22T12:03:00.000-07:00

To my knowledge, the longest marriages occur between protagonists whose parents live the longest marriages. So where is the science that politicians boost prolonged marriages to the max, as in policies about family welfare? And this lends itself to social bonding? I agree. Love between a man and a woman and their children and wider still, binds society together. I am cool about non-heterosexual couples but fail to accept they can help bonding, not in a family way. I also doubt how society can really benefit from single parent families - (picture this:) - an anarchist who is conservative about very strong family values. My own family is a progressive workshop that never sees itself as something so constructive. Sometimes we affirm some boundaries and new ideas, we squabble and mess up too. Luck is on my heels and punishes the simplest slip - for me there is much to lose.

Z.

2009-08-21T15:12:00.000-07:00

There is a load of non-sequitors that disprove christianity. Why on earth would a god only vouch for 2000 years until some dead jew returned in character to snatch a whole race from the jaws of oblivion? Gods that I think about are boundless and limitless, precise in their interventions and totally in control. Is the free will it gives us just a tree with rough bark so we can scratch our backs? And famously, the implicit threat that were we (humans) to abandon this god, somehow it would abandon us to Sodom and Gommorah and we would dwell in the house of the devil forever. Any god I might imagine must be infinitly more compassionate than me. I forgive more assholes than that every day. Sorry jesus christ, the figures don't add up. There's no forgiveness, there's no second coming, bloody fanfares and beatific cheribums drapped over the pig pens. Live long and prosper, spook.

Z.

2009-08-15T14:35:00.000-07:00

NICELY...

2009-08-15T12:43:00.000-07:00

From being a xenophobic, misanthropic, mistrustful guy, I swore to fucknosewho that I would assess the various benefits of ditching my grouchiness. It didn't stop me from thinking nearly all the people I have met are either stupid or malevolent. That is where naivety ends and good old 'fuckmesideways' cynicism begins. Stupid fuckers want to destroy my planet. Where are the fucking factories making cheese and bread in huge vats? Churning out the engine oil and anti-freeze? Who the fuck agreed that all these greedy fuckers got born into my planet? They know how to smile and firmly believe that ignorance is bliss. Take your fucking share of the blame you cunts. You fucking deserve what your gonna get.

Z.

Loving kindness and non-attachment

2009-08-10T17:18:00.000-07:00

Great noises about the stormy calm of many nirvanas. It takes poverty to show the folly of striving and craving and paranoiac social phobia to make loving kindness a virtue that doesn't crave conspicuity. 30 years of constantly raking over the embers in the hearth to practice consistently non-attachment and loving kindness. Not to any degree, only passing clouds by the sky orange red on the horizon that kindles the fire morning and night.

Z

The valley of the shadow of death

2009-08-09T12:12:00.000-07:00

I got to thinking about the nature of death once again to day. It is puzzling that it seems there is a photographic negative nature about being alive one second and dead the next. As I pass the infamous threshold, existence stops, instantly every event and dreary moment never was with me as my own protagonist ended in less than a second and never ever was. Unless as a memory to those who remain, a partial glimpse but not me to me. In truth I disappear right up my rectum in less time than it takes to pass the vale of death.

Next thing, the ugly reality of myself holding on too tight, viz, me being pissed if, while doing some neat post, my crappy laptop crashes, losing one hour of rantings. So should I give a shit?? 'Don't worry about a ting.' Nothing on earth of a nature of personal business is ultimately a reason for panic. Even death. Yes life is a gas but it does not have to be a fetishistic idol we all dance around like cute bunnies or puppy dogs.

Death is a backlit huge monolith, shone upon by a light behind it necessary to create a shadow within which is my demi-lit life that wholly un-exists as I enter the cool dense marble of the cool reality of being dead and never having lived.

What must be the light shining on the backside of death that created a valley through which I happily, sadly, pass?

Z

2009-07-28T09:35:00.000-07:00

It's all 'appenin folks: the next rex wants to take both consumerism and capitalism to task for the sake of the common man. millionaires hawk round sinister streets giving handouts to real people who know above all others, what a million pounds is worth. Rich suburban families spread out their lucca to people who don't care if they have silver spoons. Those with vaults and vaults of wonga make wholesale "drops" into African States dying of yellow fever, malaria and AIDS. Hugely sucessful captains of industry lie in wait for piddly entrepreneurs offering top dollar for a stake. Am I dreaming but do those christian aid advertisements proclaim a new approach to poverty? I think that greed has passed its prime with all the fuss about obesity, which is only a tangible symptom of fetishistic consumerism. Cummon' - lets out the excellent philanthropists, d'you think Bob Geldof has sold out? Bono too? Did we feed the world: we did, and it must keep happening, time and time again.

Z

2009-07-21T14:33:00.000-07:00

This is a simple notable quid pro quo, that occurs across the world in millions of cities and towns viz, choosing a strong or passive flat vertical hand signal of acknowledgement to another vehicle driver when either the one or the other has given way. From time to time, a thumbs up replaces the firm or floppy palm signal that shows one's gratitude or compliance.

Something by the by: this sense people have of being in extrordinary times these days and a strange sense of victimisation, edginess and demons impinging on the good old sense of humdrum, even, standard life.Since the elevation of a number of psychic masters has raised the total awareness throughout all sections of the planet, the Here and Now is more acceptable and more conscious and wider spread than was ever known.

Increasingly, everyone's awareness in the present and choice to make the present now a matter of urgency rather than a dead past or an unborn future, totally transforms the degree of prioritisation of the tasks faced in life. Subjectively, my world is harsh, acute and puzzling, has the world changed? Yes! By interacting with our world, it too changes.

Z.

2009-07-16T13:50:00.000-07:00

It is practically useless to hide like a massive taboo issues pertaining to telepathy and relevancies pertaining to nirvana and samsara. There are 96 months to oblivion, my cards are prepared for the table, these are my issues, there is no time to lose. Yes, people WORK better when minds are bearing colleagues influence in mind to run the whole planet beginning in individual workplaces. Part of the answer to the issue of redemption is work in unison, the world of work becomes upholding of man, beast and planet. A transition from planning minds to present minds, experience of joy in accomplishment and solidarity combining complete outward and non-negotiable individual freedom. The once enlightened few have mushroomed to the enlightened many, some of us are lucky enough to know one another. Remain true to wu-wei and non-action and wait for the time to commence appropriate action. Totally crap advice: I haven't a clue either.

Z

2009-06-30T17:15:00.000-07:00

Kindof ran the idea of a huge increase in the number of seagulls recently past 2 or 3 workmates to day. One out of 3 said that they too had noticed greater seagull activity lately. Bristol happens to be a coastal city I admit, but why so many seagulls for fuck's sake? The office is on a square adjacent to the inner city ( St. Pauls). Sat on a bench, seagulls fucking about above ground nearby (birds reckon that flying is so clever), I said, "one of them is gonna shit pretty soon." .... Git - bullseye right on my crown chakra. Me, I sticks up for the dudes in feathers, why treat me like all the other dumb critters? Not to mention miles of road kill over in Wales last weekend. Wish the fuck that I could read into it, but nature reveals its secrets in its own time only. Stupid birds - get a fucking life - show me your counselling skills and your awesome public monuments. You fly so high and swoop so low, Timothy Leary. But what about us humans? Fit for recycling? Lost the plot? Actually saving our asses? Yeh - we're saving our asses, putting our soul power to the karmic wheel. Almost like Man U scoring a couple in the dying seconds (dreadful analogy.)

Z.

2009-06-12T14:41:00.000-07:00

Yer 'tis gurt Bristle our boy's handle's gurt Banksy.

We sez our hero's from France: "Banksy is French." True there is cartoonist technique straight out of the Bande Dessine. True that Banksy's episodic allusions are frequently risque.

Lucky for me I walk staight down Stokes Croft in Banksy heartland with time to admire all the graffiti episodes rising on the Banksy bande dessine tradition.

All along the boundary of the Free St. Pauls citizenship workshop.

Obviously the publicists and commentators whisper out of earshot, in Bristol, the rising of the tribe is the next agenda, the next party, the next thing of free beauty. Free Banksy! Free Bristol!

Z.

2009-06-05T10:23:00.000-07:00

Now and then my brain alights on a fragrant bloom of my own inner peace. I submit the truth of the smokey quartz gem that encapsulates the harmony of death and beauty. That gem? Because the combination of death and beauty has a characteristic of sepia opaqueness that is crystalized and hard just as if the truth is set in stone.

Had I an animal spirit, mine should be a stag. One of the images I most dwell on in paintings, it's the painting of the stag in the verdant forest, where I substitute "stag" for "artist" staring back triumphantly at the monad viewing the painting. The viewer is alone with the stag which symbolises his unique soul. For the same reason I pay special attention to Stephan Mallarme's Apres-midi d'un Faune.

I must say that death is the epitome of beauty, because and when it clarifies the boundaries of everything. Doesn't death stop a mountain from increasing in size? Death must put a limit on the height of trees, also on the hardness of rocks and stones.

Crucially, the most beautiful choses, are the choses that come close to death but I don't know why or how, but I should like to know. Great art, great lives and exceptional people know these things.

Probably Schopenhauer wrote all about it. Probably.

Z

2009-05-28T15:13:00.000-07:00

The spring greens of the golf course trees tremble in the tender sunlight of the end of the world afternoon. All the trademarks of nature since a short while have an end of the world aura. Hangover of this fin de siecle, scrambling and scrabbling to get not just a century, but a whole millenium, underway. I will buy the reality of this summer of love if it is for sale. All across the richly hide of green fur prolific baize of Durdham Down, runners in groups, people in training, rugby league and rugby union tackling in merriment, prove to me that relationships are beginning to work and be worked upon.

Z

2009-05-23T15:49:00.000-07:00

There's been shedloads of bad luck lately, I cannot even believe that this is not normal. Did I strive to become a grown up, only to be faced with huge personal and collective challenges? Me, mine and fate - the gloves are off. My misunderstood tarot card - the wheel of fortune. Those dicey Egyptians who brought luck to the table, and the subsequent contributions of the Romans and Greeks. Fridays can be scary with special helpings of both malheur and bonheur. Western Civilisation thrives on the mighty currents streaming down from antiquity. Chop and chop again. Some of my dad's ashes are going to be scattered in my back garden, and my mum's and my brothers' too. As gardeners, Jackie and I plan to choose a plant shrub or tree to be planted in a hole lined with his ashes. Karma, karma, blind justice, travelling across multi-billion light years just to lightly brush my soul and cut down my plans and any puerile adulation to the deaf and lurid statue that is, Lady Luck.

Z

2009-05-21T05:54:00.000-07:00

Since he died 3 weeks ago, have I used a variety of methods in an attempt to confirm or refute the notion that his life underwent obliteration (Dad).

Perhaps it befits me to keep that largely inconsequential notion between parenthesis.

He held the belief that some still hold, that of an afterlife (kindof debrief is what I imagine). Apart from that he was a very intelligent person.

He may have raised his eyebrows (if they survived cremation) at the sight of those quaint golden gates and all those pansies with white smocks plucking at their comrades heart strings (awwww).

Doesn't it piss you off to keep being reminded that death can so easily spring out at us from behind a tree? Or from some poxy car (usually second hand) derailling up the sidewalk and making our guts spew over some hapless git's windscreen.

Oh yes! Death! Killing me softly with his song, killing me softly.

RIP dad, you old git - I love you, ace Skyrider.

Z

Where do the children play?

2009-04-23T14:41:00.000-07:00

The title for my magic box is a quote from a Cat Stephens song; Cat, so demonised for an infamous allegiance to Islam. His lyrics and upbeat tunes pointed forward to his (pretty logical) eventual conversion. 'Miles from nowhere' presaged the climbing of Mount Zion, still a reality to Youssouf the islamist.

And kids? The same inspiration as was to the buddhist monks playing off ground touch and knock knock ginger. What are always behind us but always ahead of us? Any adult growing old who attempts to 'teach 'em a thing or two' lives in fear of losing the source of youth lying at the threshold of existence.

The children can spot the cynics, the bitter, and the pessimists, ever caught one looking at you a bit quizzically? That will be the grim reaper, GO ON! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Or stare the tiger in the eyes.

Z

2009-04-16T12:40:00.000-07:00

Henchmen of the hierarchy, state heads have met to pollute the troubled seas using unctions of a thousand brands of a thousand different oils. It appears (as illusions are wont) the henchmen have delivered a stunning feelgood panacea just because they can feel us breathing down their necks. The latest manifestation of them controlling the masses involves us believing that the henchmen are now a united front and model unity as a sop to the further demise of capitalism, most feared by the hierarchy. You can fool some of the people... They draw us close to their enclaves, the better to ensure (white) supremacy.

Z

2009-04-10T06:34:00.000-07:00

Having been to my regular haunts in Brittany for the past 7 years, I took advantage of cheap flights and free accommodation to hop down to a caravan park not far from Perpignan. So stunned by the total lack of similarity, I tried to explain (in French) to a taxi driver the meaning of the English language phrase "different as chalk and cheese." Hysterically, everyone had to know how much my palate had got violated by the food and drink "down there" by the ole Mediterranean Sea. Christ! How much tannin is that!? Burns like fucking acid. Burns like the sun in the Med. I would gladly stand corrected if, when swayed by an alternative argument, I stopped believing that the whole context was responsible for my 'dereglement de tous les sens', and not only the bloody food. I truly wish to belong to the Langue d'Oc, sun worshipper that I am, yet Brittany is attractively gentle and softly sophisticated especially to the senses.

Z

Pucker up!

2009-03-28T03:41:00.000-07:00

Ole JPS clucked on over the simple reality tests of Absurdity and Nausea. Now perhaps I might have a turn?

What couples do in public view is both astonishing and unbelievable! Walking down the street getting funniest looks from everyone we meet. Holding hands eh? What's that all about? Doin' it with a bungee, an jumpin' off the highest cliff, forever hand in hand?

It all looks kindof "gay" unless its some kind of preparation for a vulcan mind-meld after which we are one we're all the same and life is just a simple game.

No! No! Don't start on about kissing. Especially SNOGS. Yuk! The codger JPS might at least have constrained his vile patner to witter on about KISSING. Seen how the slobberous and drooling lip-meld then twists all over the gobs and those hands! What's that all about.

The reason I am puking this up is because Ken Barlow can be seen snogging on the TV screen nearly every night, the rest of the show I find quite believable. Yet you don't seem convinced.

Z

G 20

2009-03-26T16:40:00.000-07:00

Merrily the swine macerate their mantras to make recession something capable of being served up on news at 10. Ho! Ho! It's mighty far down from the state of grace sunshine. Begorrah: the reality-developers give us a constitutional quickie giving Charlie-boy a massive boner as the question of royal blood goes native. Yep, a cracking diversionary manoeuvre for the plebs during the long hot summer, thank fuck its summer! Not to mention a proper battle against proper soldiers to savour between matches as Wimbledon beguiles the idle rich. "Good season to be had Ursula," "They can't reach us now." "We're all comfortably numb." "There's an aeroplane up in the sky." "Kennedy is dead, long live the king!" I blame the sex pistols -or just another poke at ye old cunt-tree?

Z

Spirit of Nada

2009-03-10T15:16:00.000-07:00

Because there is WU-WEI not any moment of inspired cogitation or thought however elevating, is a pretext for diverting or blocking the flow of time and essence. Am I not proud of my ability to abandon (how vainly!) cleverisms that have sought to adorn comment boxes? Yeh! Does this jibbering lower lip suffer its bite to avoid fatuous cleverisms in each conversation straining not to slip into cleverist attention-seeking. It occurs quite frequently that I grow in the blessing of TE by abandoning unnecessary thoughts and words that seem to beg to be put onto chips all over the place or attempt to snare me in my vanity's trap. Whilst attempting to be less important, perhaps I grow in humanity. So am I less of an alien, less of an outsider :-)

Z

2009-02-28T14:32:00.000-08:00

Far beyond reality tv, lies my admiration for absurdity tv. I turn it on sometimes when I watch TV. Here's a thing which is making me laugh to myself these days; newsreaders, simply the daring men and women baring their souls at 10pm as I study their glitches and blemishes. The news of further economic crises and downturns, though welcome in themselves, are greatly embellished by their utter severence of the chaos in our streets from their naive reporting. Wisely, they uphold normality and at 10pm normalise the lives of punters when all around people lose their heads.

Z

2009-02-26T15:29:00.000-08:00

Currently we have to find £50 monthly for Laura's trip to Austria in 2010, pay for the flights to Beziers and £100 caravan hire during Easter and just after, £1200 for a week in a villa in Spain in August. Are you taking the piss? Who me? Zoro, the global warmist! My ass is gonna burn on that Languedoc beach and that villa terrace. Yo! Believe.

Z

2009-02-16T13:16:00.000-08:00

S' goin Tin Pan Alley - get yer credit crunch tee-shirt or yer recession-busting double glazing!! Oh children, might we look back to how foolishly glib all this was?

Worried there's a chasm splitting the bling lovers from those living with relative poverty, a floe about to split off from planet ground earth as the ivory-cum- symbolic twin tower needs some dude to study the million feet down the precipice.

She was a regular woman in the store who happened to laugh at my joke about wishing finally that all the banks could really do with crashing. The girl on the castaway show studying anarchy at uni and getting into communism, a regular young person, she was 20.

Yes I KNOW - millions upon millions of people across the surface of earth are pissed off, pissed off with the State of greed and hatred, wishing for the demise of global emotional diseases, needing for all of it to crash.

Your credit crunch tee shirt and recession busting double glazing? Disrespectful and stupid.

Your attempt to steer events? Ha!

Z

2009-02-07T14:25:00.000-08:00

Snow turns out to be our salvation, giving the opportunity for tons of reminiscences next summer and well into the years ahead. Also, mother earth proves to the sceptics that the wet mild winters of recent times may not be the living proof of our vaunted global meltdown. People started to have fun - kids off school, adults off work, all makes up for the lousy 2008 summer. This isn't the armageddon of British industry and commerce, this is fresh snow where two feet then four then eight beat a path to the mansions of the doom merchants. Rise up! Rise up!

Z

2009-02-05T13:31:00.000-08:00

For blogging there is little to crow these days, the shine at last has been buffed to its possible demise. Every single day persists in positive jovial encounters with scores of identical souls with identical dreams to which we aspire in unison (outside blogsville). The blog called Osram has many attributes but when it negates the universal quest for happiness, it fails culpably. The more I get to know other people, the less attractive my blogging becomes. For many weeks I have submitted my best work and yet I aspire unfortunately beyond what my "best" has to offer. Solipsism is the opposite of my gregarious spirit, yet my bogger nature is solipsistic and my street nature celebrates the complete unity of humanity. I have come to trust in humanity and I find this adventure very exciting. In your journeys be amazed and fulfilled.

Z

2009-01-30T14:03:00.000-08:00

Bullying vs. the price of fish – does it beg the question? To see those fine fellows of Oxbridge or Harvard kick those dangerous mullahs from Al Quaeda, the Taliban, Iraq or Palestine right round the pitch, one finds oneself a bystander at a game of Bullying, masquerading, emperor-like, as a game of Quiddich, where we are invited to understand that the latter is a real game of global righteousness and importance.
Price of fish? Trade slavery enough for you boss? The Fellows snatch bagfuls of colourful and tasty choses from hapless, luckless and gutless classmates, inmates and primates. "Otherwise I’ll kick your fucking teeth in."
[Angrily] Bedrooms, playgrounds and pirate impregnating stations are veritable breeding grounds of humanity…For too long now have our playgrounds seen the strong overcome the poor (oops) the weak. (This rabid intoning is indeed a natural tick). "Look at that lovely man, Mr. Bush, brave upholder of the Faith", croon our natural mothers.
Humanity will shortly be in our grasp… Is that either without beggars, thieves and child molesters or, without bullies pimps and liars? I personally like mine shaken and stirred. Please, sir, can we change Armistice Day for Amnesty Day or perhaps another couple of A’s I can think of? Oh yes! I recollect, I think I must have fallen in love when you stopped pointing your gun at me.
Oh yes – ‘the order of things’ as conveyed by our man of the Faith and replicated in that ill-informed global institution, Playtime. There’s more chance of achieving World Peace than banning bullies from being bullies. Nay, convene a bunch of ‘achievers’ to commence navel-gazing sessions on the evils of bullying in schools rather than disembowel adult suffrage.
My Dad (a bully himself) repeated to me that millennia-old myth of standing up to ‘them’. Centuries later appeared our friends the White Supremacists aka Western Civilisation. Then, quite recently, y’know, along came the real saviours in all this, Al Quaeda, The Taliban, The Palestinians and Saddam Hussain. All the White Boys got into a huddle near the dinner lady who said: "Say a little prayer for me". The Black Boys disappeared from sight and the White Boys ran off to find them, upon which the Black Boys carried the dinner lady into the canteen and held her for ransom. The White Boys careered screaming back into the canteen upon which they offered 3 conkers and a Pokemon card for the release of the dinner lady upon which the Black Boys confessed their sins and the White Boys repeated "God is Great" three times.

2009-01-28T13:05:00.000-08:00

They trained me about support planning to day and so we got into the subject of recovery from mental illness. Later I said to the trainer that 5 years ago I had coined the phrase, "Deficit Model" applied to both the medical model and the social models of managing mental illness. Namely, the one describes a health deficit and the other, a needs deficit. Recovery on the other hand is based on hope, trust and faith in others. I trained the recovery model between 7 and 5 years ago, dropped out and came back 6 weeks ago. What! No reference now to medics and social workers, just a placeless "deficit model". I encouraged the models to go head to head 5 years ago - "never going to happen" methinks. Yes! I did turn that phrase! And what a shock to hear it fully "negotiated" 5 years later. I'd write a book if I could be arsed. Life sucks or some seedier minor illumination on tooth-picking habits of consultant psychiatrists.

Z

Truth about fairy stories

2009-01-17T13:33:00.000-08:00

The G-Bs (an abbreviation of a person's surname) are a widespread family of the ancient dynasty of Hill People. This person's name can't be revealed due to reasons of confidentiality. The name would make most people consider that it could be an ancient name connected with the pre-history of the British Isles. Where GB lives has a history dating back to prehistory whereas the majority of homes were built from the 1940's onwards. There exist both Iron Age and Roman ruins in the area and the names of the roads hark back to the Dark Ages at least. GB has settled in the area but the recent users of the name hail from Nottingham. Prior to hearing this from GB and with reference to his physical features, I had opened this discussion by associating him with Robin Hood and Friar Tuck, that's when he admitted to being a descendant of the remarkable Hill People of Yore. How weird is that? That has got me going about the good old rich tapestry metaphor and thinking about other physical types such as "Elvin". Then onto overlays and underlays of national types, local types, racial types, clan types, Lord of the rings an allusion to these very mysteries. I like all this, I like it very much.

Z

2009-01-10T12:59:00.000-08:00

Grouped intoxicatingly at the foot of the anti-flag, here to survey the alluring promises of socialism, clutching the anti-venom to the infectious bite of a capitalist economy. Greed pusses from the fangs of the scaly treacherous asp. Hierarchies and multiple overlapping pantheons of supremacy rock forwards and backwards in foetal disbelief at the cumulating uneasiness of the injured beast. Poor relations, do not crave to be richer than thou, tis better that the gluttonous private wealth advocates vomit their own riches out like a cat and a fur ball. This writes an incantation that hopes to turn the mill wheel of minds in denial to lend weight to the frontal assault of world socialism or better still, Anarchy, on the wounded leviathan. Think how this simple recipe bakes the human manna to feed your empty belly, belly of desire for the true blueprint that places humanity at the centre of the universe and each individual at the periphery.

Z

Margin of Error

2009-01-02T15:44:00.000-08:00

What happens to an affable type that when agglomerated, constantly makes bad things happen? Oh dear maker produce us a litmus test of personal integrity! Dim my eyes to call out the demons in the hearts of rational and reasonable people populating every micron of a scale from bad to awful or good to better. This glance is sharp in order to penetrate each dissimulated layer of the reasonable wearer of each such reasonable mask. Splitting hairs Z? Sniffing out the shit stashed in plain sacks just haunting his mind tucked into those flaking facades. Hairsplitting? My knife slits a sheet of plain A4 as ruthlessly as the torturers and murderers and abusers, especially those populating shandy town, half-drunk half-sober. Beware the citizen who eulogises privacy, beware the pervert and abuser claiming protection from the legal donkeys. Lets give pornography a mention and say it as we say, men like this like this. There is a human tendency gathering momentum so that lives can pull out the sword of Damocles and slice the ties that bind them to the law of inverse nature. It’s a Zorro thing to test others’ personalities and spin them centrifugally to ascertain the weight, trajectory and potential outcome of the electrons, mesons and protons. A human tendency counts as a will to act, of an active force in an active field, of course we differ, but look at your own life and try and catch the cheat at work, accept it and cure it. We all have to do exactly the same thing at exactly the same time except do it totally uniquely – honestly, you won’t be able to stop yourself: stop being frightened by goodness.

Crudites

2008-12-28T12:17:00.000-08:00

No time to beat about the bush - OK Ya - chocks away!!

Z

Well-chilled bollocks

2008-12-24T14:29:00.000-08:00

Mr Midwinter, your balls are steaming; that's no man, that's his father, Klaus. A real estate's pimp in Southall's chance in Hades. Pay the ferryman and do shut up Tiffany.

Zob

2008-12-14T13:01:00.000-08:00

Why are our wonderful intellectuals getting worried about the excellent tendency to dumb down every bit of culture? Because culture is what exalts the powerful, rich and influential. Intellectuals fear the lowest (common) denominator because it reverses the process of cultral sublimation thrived on by the middle classes. Not me, so high and mighty and the chiller goes my path, the more excellent are the unusual disadvantaged pariahs shunned at the gates of Clifton, Hampstead and Henley upon Thames. Those cheeky little hierarchies! How high church feeds off the miserable with its liturgy and icons. How the advertising agencies stick their noses in our lives and suck the cocks and fannies of corporate chief execs. Why are prols interested less in higher culture? They're too busy recovering from graft, beating their wives or feeding their faces. Certainly not to romanticise the working class, only meaning to draw down the fetishes of the well off and rub their pretty noses in the crap beyond the stories beaming up to them from the News at Ten.

Z

2008-12-13T15:48:00.000-08:00

I am chuffed to bits at the result of X factor. The result had to be win win for me. JLS pressed all the buttons and a win for Alexandra proved that millions upon millions could be duped whereas I was not.

I said to Jackie, every beautifully turned out woman was a clone of their sister's. Every beauty is the image of every well-slapped sister. I like the 'dove approach' every unique off key beauty with little or no slap.

Far be it for me to prescribe feminine beauty, males have always had such a hand in women's lives so here we go again...

Only certainty is merry-go-round again after all, fashion's fashion. I prescribe: unglamorous attire, unglamorous cars and unglamorous hairstyles, let 'em really work at their individuality. Ownership of the people and by the people.

I know what I want and I'm a gonna get it.

Z

A little bit of me

2008-12-03T12:21:00.000-08:00

I had lost my mind before the age of 24, from mixing drugs and mysticism; my father, himself a manic- depressive who escaped the diagnosticians, and mother - nursed me through a family tragedy that smarted like hell.
Previously I had been in love with a young French woman from near Lyon. We met due to her mum plucking me from a Lyon motorway during my first solo trip away from home. We were lovers for 5 years until my poor beleaguered ego finally crashed.
Of course I had every intention of going straight back to her when I finally won my freedom from the Bin at Southall, where I was imprisoned for "hijacking" (later convicted).
I walked along the verge of the main road near home fully expecting the next car to contain her, and I stumbled along churned paths bawling my heart out – yes! Time has passed, memories still remain and I survived, I really don’t know how, but I did.
We were having rows, me, breaking down. I was bizarre, she too had lost a lover and a friend. Her brother broke us up, he took care of me in the mountains, but no-one knew which country of the mind I inhabited. She had gone, I had gone, everything had gone wrong. I really was not fit for human company.
Of course it had its accoutrements – mystical union and telepathy to name only two – I could easily have forgone these dubious bedfellows I had found in my mind, I could forgo the hours of reading and practice on mysticism, I could have avoided the pitfalls of LSD only if it hadn’t been "me"
Here I am, as fit as a shirt from my Granny’s mangle: cleaner, drier, smelling of daisies. "In the end" Granny says, "Time heals." Thanks for that Gran…

2008-12-03T12:06:00.000-08:00

2008-11-29T17:23:00.000-08:00

Falling for a Fable
That pierces my sky
None bar the knell of Doom
Burning Promethean pyres
Blue resembles little clarity
An idea only but dim
Beneath the scope of prose or rhyme
Good love harbours my pyromania
Swarming flies parade pansy-like
Below the promontory of blue rock
Dimming a blind note of sapphire irony
To cry and shed no earthly tear
Béchamel to sweet the ether black
Ragged rats bounce a bourgeois jig
Lacking the noose that clamps the cord
I simply die to be born!

Hiss and make up

2008-11-29T13:32:00.000-08:00

Thank you me for getting resurected from ashes of lust, for being a man of standing and sexual equivalence.

At the Mall every young face was caked with foundation, every lash clotted up with mascara. At the Mall I go to see beauty, it is frankly only skin deep. In UK all the girls use the same magazine articles to determine their make up.

Us blokes get dodgy on the ground of calling specious shots about feminine mores, however, my mysogeny flies high and wide across the keyboard.

Malls are fucked, only profit and dividends suck, I get a 'here we go again' from the missus and kids but, mister tamborine man, you aint gettin' my endorsement.

While beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, 99% wear the same glasses as dame Edna or queen Elton - must be the panda eye syndrome - those who can't quite believe that Mammon is going to go to sleep for ever and ever.

Z

BANKRUPT, BROKE, BORROWING, BRAZEN AND BARMY

2008-11-24T16:04:00.000-08:00

2008-11-24T04:34:00.000-08:00

Here’s a lesson I learnt one day in a mountain range in central France: It’s quite special if you will.

Sometimes during a breakdown, grace calls at the door. That was me. I set off one day from a farmhouse near a small village in the Ardeche on a 125cc trail bike.

As my marbles had left the bridge, logic took a sabbatical in the land of the fairies. I got that tabula rasa sensation that my mind was no longer under my conscious control. In fact, Id had turned up in its place.

When Id said “bank” I banked and when Id said steer I steered. Id decreed, that I keep my eyes shut the whole time. I thought what I had done was quite straightforward; until my eyes opened to see the arc of the right hand bend I had just taken.

This continued but I let myself travel somewhat more safely until I ended up riding down a rocky dried up river at dusk and getting stuck. There was a covering of snow so I had to find a road and when I did Id took a direction and bounded across drifts in fields and on hedges.

I discovered next day that the police were contacted and they contacted mountain rescue while I wandered into the village eventually along the main road.

The police got worried I rode the bike with no insurance (ha!ha!), they took me for a terrorist and slapped me about. They could do that if they wanted, still do no doubt.

Z

Happy Fall dudes.

2008-11-16T01:33:00.000-08:00

When the white eagle of the north is flying overhead
The browns, reds and golds of autumn lie in the gutter, dead.
Remember then, that summer birds with wings of fire flaying
Came to witness springs new hope, born of leaves decaying.
Just as new life will come from death, love will come at leisure.
Love of love, love of life and giving without measure
Gives in return a wonderous yearn of a promise almost seen.
Live hand-in-hand and together well stand on the threshold of a dream.

-Graeme Edge

2008-11-14T08:09:00.000-08:00

In a land full of liars, the hypocrit is king.

2008-11-13T14:32:00.000-08:00

This person was part of 3 families very into kinds of crime causing loads of problems for the community. Crimes were various and set against a background of poverty and illiteracy. Personalities exotic and threatening more often; crime perpetually bequeathed to the youngest.

Another person, sweet person kindof principled and compassionate she had a baby and another; the oldest got taken into care like the person she was in care and mum too. Partner went to prison and he was against her brother for grassing him up. The partner dumped her and the oldest child was already in care.

The first person had the wish to improve her chances, and her past yapped at her heels causing her to return to ancestral ways just then she saw the light down the line once again. When these adults affirmed her fighting spirit and helped her spread her wings, she fell back into the sea.

And rose...and fell.

The guys are mad as hell, this guy sounds thick and mad so the rythmn of his mind and the wisdom of his words begin to fall a bit like the sweet south on the true ear - the wisdom of a 16 year old man of the world.

Purely to dip a toe in the water of the watercourse way - the wonderful fish that flash like a coin of gold and then gone.

Z

2008-11-07T17:06:00.000-08:00

"No future...no future...". What a wonderfully hopeful sentiment (says Johnny Rotten in his best English). His famous Australian "cunt": out of Africa and what the toucan says; now begets now, out of the present here comes now. No future, never! You look at the future, and what do you see? Two barrels of a shotgun. Either/Or - either/or is crap and choice is crap and the "free" market built on choice is crap. There is never a choice: "what will be will be." There is an illusion of choice but deny/ignore the illusion. Assert freedom and deny determinism; deny freedom and assert determinism = kif kif inch allah.

Z

2008-11-01T15:23:00.000-07:00

At risk of sounding preachy (not so bizarre, eh?) - there is a theme that has come around for us (me & you) in my 'work', that theme is the meaning and practice of freedom. Suspending all beliefs and allowing random navigation, I have found a good connection with great freedom. This path tends to cut ties and permit progressive freedoms from the so-called wheel of birth and death. Might these thoughts point to a moral point of view, I & I holds to the truth of rastafari (without the hat)? This work I humbly profess to doing in my simple way of life, is, simply put, liberation. I tend to liberate me and I tend to liberate you - only a small piece at a time and the honest truth? You can't trace it back to me.

Z

2008-10-29T03:53:00.000-07:00

Come’ on sweet, we are taking the Personality for a walk. See it reach so high! Watch it bury its bone in that bushy little shrub!

Oh doesn’t it quite remind you of those dizzy Personalities at our local so high on their self love. I love our smashing little Personality. When it grows up we know how sweetly its little voice will rise and fall and shriek when it must, or force itself to capitalise on some laughter, to push its limit out to all its friends and family. We love our Personalities when they show themselves off at work or in the pub, we put to shame the quiet little wallflowers and scarcely pay attention to the shabby types. Oh God, I am up high (can they see me?). Wow I’m so alive, so wonderful, I feel like a shining icon snugly fitting in. That was a good one – look at what the poor shabby souls miss out on in life. Are they really alive at all?

P.O.E.T.S

2008-10-19T15:40:00.000-07:00

Freaky Fridays, my piss-off days. You are my bad luck hoodoo queen, sphinxish end of die Woche. I curse badly the bringers of devilish connivances to my mooching quite nicely get along day. YOU! Set and your wheel-of-fortune buddies, this path is crossing yours again quite soon and, for a day, life is trash and cursing of your metaphysical tit for tat. I got to the shop, a penny short, make a phone call (out of credit), get online (been cut off), phone the missus for cash (been cut off), need a drink, 25p short of a can of the cheapest rotgut. No - this is not Friday, skintness is quite a different gameplay. Fridays are monstrously, scarily overpowering with no clue about how bad your luck is going to get. I wonder if by cursing the god-idea, I have to opt for the astrology/assyrian gameplan. What a fucking choice - cheers!

Z

2008-10-17T13:14:00.000-07:00

Stop being frightened.
True these hard and bruising days.
To the faithless, no hope, to the faithful, lies.
Brave warrior, witch and warlock, hold faith with your nature.
The liars are covering their tracks - they fear us they fear being hunted they fear losing.
I trust no one I am buried deep within my flickering stroboscopic heart.
I sometimes get the feeling I am not alone in this.
I know there are those who believe they are many and safe in a mass of belief.
Sometimes I think they are going to die in mass falsehood.
I cannot expect to live or be righteous.
They are the righteous and I feel that righteousness might be false also.
I cannot be right for that way lies the lies of all and I do not condemn or condone.
I am grit and despair and hopeless camaraderie of brave people.

Z

2008-10-14T08:23:00.000-07:00

I verge absolutely on madness, paranoid almost half my time and totally zan zan zany the other half. Hey all you armchair marxists, anarchists - lets get down to Traf Sq and add to the fucked up mess that is materialist ideology! Yep - demonstrate against world capitalism and hopefully hurry it up to its grave across the Atlantic. Islamists say that no-one innocent died in 9/11 - all benefited from materialism and other crimes against humanity. If I were not such a prick perhaps a few of us could help hurry capitalism along. Of course we can't despatch her, but we can dance in her tomb as she is laid out at the chapel of rest. There we can rejoice in the vision of partying behind the hearse that carries her putrid remains to the graveyard of past civilisations. Bye bye white supremacy - can we espy the rising now of the nations of Africa and Asia? I follow only the passing days and stand truly amazed at what I hope I behold....at some future date.

Z

2008-09-29T14:35:00.000-07:00

It's a weirdly-contrived duty-construct, just pissing about denying that the end-of-the-world-is-nigh. Can't quite seem to throw in the towel; the way the story goes is that shit never happens in life how it can be imagined beforehand. People say, it points to this, or it points to that or even! it points to the Truth.

My back passage is a huge conspiracy - it doesn't matter that some rich powerful cunt pulled a fast one in Manhattan or a tunnel in Paris, we the unsuspecting, trusting prols will fall for it all again one day: it's our paranoia that enslaves us.

What I like is how folk are turning on the rich more and more over our collective troubles, and of course they'll remark on that in passing and send a further wave of paranoia amongst us. Oh, how we are able to be manipulated! Me, I keep my legs crossed, and try to take the piss as lovingly as I can.

I trust no-one, but I love the thrill of witnessing the myriad turns of the dragon.

Z

2008-09-26T16:08:00.000-07:00

Many of the anarchists are focusing on the global crisis - harnessing their karma to the desire for the world economic system to dissolve irretrievably into oblivion. I have a mortgage, my job depends on the public purse, I have commitments yet I so want the whole steaming pile of shit to go tits up. I console myself that chaos was never a distant stranger and that millions of shiny happy people won't know whats hit them nor will they work it out for quite a while. I blame the people who are part of the problem for grasping pathetically the myth that life is a "bling-thing" and I execrate the rich and famous for leading them to the waters of Babylon.

No worries

Z

2008-09-19T15:11:00.000-07:00

Why die? Die younger from selection as not any use. Get old due to a dream of perfection from before. Working out the personality emerging decades ahead from any variety of childhood abuse. Resolve in me for the young and the young ones young, moving on the story of a race for immortality. Human perfectibility: only denied by spurious gods, within the realm of the evolution of the person, the family, even a whole race - christianity is the greatest enemy for all humanists to check at each and every turn.

Z

FLY THEIR WAYWARD BY

2008-09-16T12:10:00.000-07:00

There were some seagulls flying west towards their cliffs I guess. V's, arrows and stragglers. One specific tribe, or several? Are they skilled in tackling trawlers or sewerage pipes or fields and tips? Jonathon to a bird just as jack sprat to their prey or frigates to the flotilla? Wheeling and banking and diving, but playing is the easiest occupation and correct action is the greatest. Jonathon, my friend, symbol of the known universe - freebird: fly!

Z

2008-09-02T05:20:00.000-07:00

English is pretty absurd per se when spoken either in dialect or by the middle classes. When unpicked a little, the structure ressembles a goat skin stretched across a panning dish with weird morsels of mashed up and mascerated meaning thumping out in slightly squeamish public places. More of a mouthful than gobs full of doorstep sandwich stoppers. Oh la la you are de trop cher gaston. One cunt help but admire the gobby shites with little englander roofboxes and red crosses some sporting little Kernow stickers like they were fluent in the ubiquitous cornish language. Heh - that's not nasty....much? Slap happy teachers spend their two weeks brushing up their GCSE francais and taking smelly cheese back to the staff room to impress and disgust their fetid colleagues. Me....nasty? As I look at the pool table, the swimming pool and the afternoon sun glimpsing me from a bleuatre sky, I say, with the benefit of a nice local 6% lager: tout va bien dans le meilleur des mondes.

Z.

2008-08-24T07:09:00.000-07:00

Human race. Irascible men. Blacks and whites new corporate cousins. Misunderstood chinese and mute muslims as the world reflects. Fracturing now, the dream of a second coming and revelation nightmare - I pierce the future with races and the natural world extending century on century far-ranging futures not limited to an impossible resurrection of a dead prophet. I live and I die I go faster to the wire I relax I accept. Economic activity is vainglory: leaders and owners greedy, conceited and arrogant - whistling up me waste pipe am I, some grubby mental dredger clearing a channel for someone's breaking news - I understand more and more and lose my faculties daily. I see no point in trying any more, I am happy now to be alive.

Z

2008-08-21T15:04:00.000-07:00

Live life as if its the only one, take it as it comes and barrel on down to the stop sign as quick as you like. Don't think ure important, treat people like a brother or sister. Try and get by but take the rough with the smooth. Special is as special does. I am blessed with a week abroad next week and will post when there - tell Sirena she looks great and tell twit nothing - if you read my posts I am glad.

Z

2008-08-20T17:54:00.000-07:00

Gladly tender the true change for want of befuddling our counterfeit cousins. Fair change does not do ill to me thee the seeker. See saw the shell of democratic decency never allowed the twins of Tolkien barrow boy saucy selling gradually steal a jewelly crown. So rocky and mirthful cloaks in elvine solace beyond and far yet facing the hills of salisbury plain so hard and erect; the barking screwy beacon, barrelling lay me down lines beltingly in space this land so green. Hail tall icon I give you the troth of lovers fair do curse the thought of raising high yet to fall. Sever hate you pathetic nature of nurtured calico, that hides the place once held in false promises that taught the fair to practice the art of common law.

20/8/08

Z

2008-08-20T16:40:00.000-07:00

I was invited to choose a link on a pal's blog where I viewed scenes of male nudity and male on male affection and sexual acts. Having selected earlier a playlist chosen from some recently downloaded material using a recently engaged file sharing program; Frankie Goes to Hollywood came on (if you'll permit). Current track: "Relax" which I believe to be a homosexual training song.

The last "act" in the song reminds me of a scene at a window in San Francisco with a man dripping spunk from the end of his penis after he had come (forgot to relax no doubt). Strangely, the thing that separates my life from the citizens of San Francisco as portrayed is only possessing 3 identical leather jackets that I attempt to sell when skint (all size 2 X L) and I can say those dudes know a few things about rock and roll.

Z

Two - OO!

2008-08-07T15:55:00.000-07:00

My paltry 200 posts have led to personal sincerely weight-loss that I am now marketing as "Osram Lighten the Load" or OLTL. Truly you will be amazed at how much fat YOU could lose! Leaner and meaner, leaner and meaner. No need for pills or potions, simply write your fat off. I am offering this amazing WRITERS COURSE sent under plain cover for a paltry $49.99. Just look at my 200 posts if you don't believe that I can teach you to write. True true.

Z