Sunday, 11 May 2014


A Sunday spent sauntering around the streets
Of London
Two days later rain would enter our minds
This day however
Only sun rays

Mosaic on the wall
The flower stall men
Petals on the streets were rubbish
Not a squirrel in sight

Trailblazers like comets
Coming soon
To mark the end of a delightful day
Shine but May sunshine
Light as day

Trillips and trollips across
The tundra
Not a drink in sight

Sunday nights are’mystery to me - too
Daunting a task to comprehend
Spent alone in the woods
All alone in the moods
Swing from the moon
Moon mook

Thursday, 8 May 2014

Hockney Orpheus Bowling Oedipus

‘That’s tonight’, she says in reply to my question, ‘How was the Theban play?’

'A new-age opera actually’, she says not looking up from her paper. 

‘Oh I see’, I search for the thing on the ipad-thing and ‘Owwow lots of blood and eyes gouged out.’

It’s only expected - it’s all expected from a Theban play. 
There’s that metaphor for not being able to see the truth even though you’ve got eyes, and then suddenly being able to see the truth but now you’ve got no eyes, because you gouged them out or something. It’s a classic. 

‘Why do you think everyone tweets everything they think?’

She’s not listening anymore so I start on my own trail. ‘I wonder if it’s because when you write something down it’s a type of record-keeping and when people tweet it creates the impression of having more thoughts than they actually have. All in a line. Proof that you’re interesting and witty and what-not.’

* * *

‘They back up the news stories these days with “@celebritywanker I hate the BBC for this exact reason. Such a mess. #boner” or something like it, why? These tweets are they really replacements of statements? It seems lazy to me.’ I guzzle the foam on the top of my pint.

‘But it’s in the public forum’, he says in a pub. I nod in agreement I was ready for this, my lawyer friend or studying-to-be-a-lawyer friend is so cocksure of right and wrong and where justice is being done. I need some of that metal, mate.

‘But what about vox pops? Or just investigative journalism, scouring people’s rubbish and what not?’ I speak up.

‘I think that would be dismissible conduct in journalism nowadays. Well since the phone-hacking.’

‘So we’re fucked really. Just have pithy tweets and misspelt words.’ Pedants are a dying breed they must be in this game.

I worry a lot about what other people are thinking and if they’re happy to be themselves. I’m not, not unhappy sure but I’m never satisfied at the current state, I could always be better but have also been worse. 

* * *

There was a woman standing behind me as I sheltered from the rain and I had flyers under my arms because that’s what I had and I didn't feel like handing them out, not soggy anyways. She started telling me about her life! 
The gall. 
No, I asked her - what am I saying. 
I asked her to tell me about her life but not like a command you have to understand, and she complied so really I should be grateful. 
And I am.

I asked her, ‘Are you happy with life?’ and she gave me an odd look so I backtracked and backed-up my question with, ‘I mean you must love your job as an IT consultant, right.’

‘Yes I do love my job. And I feel so happy about my life.’

I nod.

‘I’ve had a fulfilling career, a great one at that, and I’m a mother and my husband works a good job and I’m about to retire. I couldn’t be more happy about the way things have gone.’

Solid. I fake a smile because the shock of her statement bowls me over too much for me to give any real reaction and I really hope she never asks me any questions back ever. And she doesn’t thank god. She probably pities me. Probably thinks I’m homeless or on the verge-of. Am I not?

* * *

Take in the sun hideaway from the rain. That’s the day’s lesson. 

Go look at churches and ponder the edifice and what are they waiting for? Do you really think a rabble of new Christians will turn up at a congregation one day - across nation and city - to rekindle the CofE spirit? I don’t want them demolished but I don’t want to use them in the way they were intended so what do you do with disused sacred space. 

Often you have to wait for people to forget what the things were used for in the first place.

‘Hey what’s that bunch of rocks over there?’

‘Some rocks.’

Today = Stonehenge.

There should be a break clause for religious architecture. The term of tenancy or belief system is infinite but if your followers happen to move on/die out/convert before the end of the system, well then you can keep the architecture just change the religion. That’s sort of happening already with the club called Mass and the Union Chapel venue. Churches with bars and sofas. They should have a church wifi system so that hackers can congregate in the pews and sell their bit coins here. Testify. Diversify. Nullify.