reflections of a well meaning misanthrope with a mangled snout….

15th June 2017.

I Enter a different realm wherein I swiftly realise the banality, and fervour becomes me. The beast within demands LIFE, adventure…the fear of the mundane, of moving through this passage of a heart, soul and spirit, as a straight line, is met with a tsunami of vitality…the quest for, hollow mindless reverence proffered for, a Life UnLived.

I listen for hints, prompts, to know when to smile, as much as my quivering narrow lips can close to falsify, nod when the corners of my vision see other bobbing heads encouraging, seeking, expecting my assent…yet my essence remains elsewhere. An unfathomable plane where there is no average, there is no mediocre, there is only the volatile, constantly in motion, shifting from sand to earth to sea to wind to river to howl to blizzard…


Cormandel, NZ, 2016...These scenes of deeply stirring, majestic natural beauty I’m instantly keen to share with her. A beacon of my recent history still blindingly bright.


Wednesday 15th October 2008…Return to the heathen’s den, viral invaders making their final stand against the march through my crimson rivers of the Amoxcyllin White Knights, “you two are fraudsters!”…The Knights reply : “We are far worse”…acquisition of poorly cured herbs, from behind PIG HQ, proved unsatisfactory, 2.8g, sexual healing remedies all life’s ills…I AM BEOWULF…Rest easy as my kitten purrs a lullaby of valerian wild lettuce love…

Thursday  16th October, 2008

“Excuse me waiter! There is a floater in my soup”

“You are a paranoid schizophrenic, stuck for the rest of your sorry days in a nightmare world of your own making…You say Paganism is only one step from Wicca…Your hypothesis is loose”

Maybe THEY are RIGHT, and its true that I am woefully, wildly WRONG. Its true that other than when hidden from their glare in the nether-realm of my cave, whenever I sit down there grows in my mind a dark suspicion that I will be soon asked to “move on”…My mother, throwing her hands in the air to illustrate her exasperation, wails “Its as if you arent content unless every possible avenue of trauma has been explored, you proactively encourage a life on The Edge”...


Friday 17th Octoberon

I’m convinced. Talk of bad things gone leads to re-acquaintance with the feelings (and reaction) to the bad things gone. The same theory applies to good things, but I suspect that the strength of its echoes diminishes with each recollection, unlike its cruel opposite. Negativity prospers more easily in its original guise and also in echo form…A bespectacled stick man with metal teeth, kind eyes, remembers me well from a year ago when I helped him with recipe and meat selection advice for a meal he was preparing for a romantic interest. They are now engaged, he tells me…’so, thanks for the help’…that brought a smile out from within me, and a few moments of calmness…Cupid Butcher…Debate with MRK, vis-a-vis reincarnation.

‘We cannot be reincarnated as animals because our souls are more advanced…the tibetans were wrong…the Earth has no soul, its just a planet’…

Talk like that is tantamount to poking me in my third eye with a chopstick. I battled, rebuked, but my onslaught was disturbed then dissected by a troll faced hag seeking salmon…

Tuesday 21st,,,,

Reserved flights but clearly lacking the funds to confirm the purchase before the 27th cutoff point. Only hope is painfully abrupt sale of the bike. My girl is happy but off the pace and far away. No more requests for ‘a few lovely words’. If she had them, I’d see them, naturally, without prompting. Debated with myself facing hag frog. Decided, by assuming the Heather perspective, best leave that firework display until she is back. I hope to high hell she affords me the same consideration…Andy and Sox both as they were if a touch jaded, still breathing. He is understandably bitter, Kat pains still palpable. ‘Neck flattened…Her back half a bloody mess…She was ripped to pieces…wrapper her in a rug, drove home to bury her in the garden where she spent her happiest days‘…Swelling reduced, but my sight isn’t revealing Eden…I’m driving a car but the passenger seat next to me feels empty…One man and his cat evokes Burroughs Last Stand…

Wednesday 22nd of whenever…2008 I presume.

My soul spoke to me whilst I slept. It said much which I don’t wish to repeat in word or thought. A maelstrom. The only highlight was a brief appearance by Michel Platini, masquerading as my manager at Sainsburys…Finally delivered my sermon of departure to the goblin king. More Lies. But the kinda lies which don’t mater. Deceiving snake people doesn’t deteriorate my karma, only lying to those who matter, and worse still, to myself, creates trauma in my future.


SUn 27th Dr Octoberon 2000008

Recovery..Emotional farewell night with Grant Friday ran through to 6am….Awake at 8am, head pounding, light screaming through blinds, bomb ticking in my skull, Who Put IT THERE ANd lit the FUSE???????

Me….I spun my mind on a roundabout of peruvian powder, devil dark rum and poky herbs…’Why do you want or need to get stoned? To get so high?’ my sensible lawyer asked me, but I ignored him…

Had to defuse the bomb, turned the room inside out searching frantically for two paracetamol I was sure were saved from the recent illness routine, found ’em, down the hatch with half litre of tropical fruit juice….woke up 12, desperate to piss but able to think straight. 1st two hours of work, every sound louder than a mouse squeak sent cruel vibrations through my thinking box…though come 330pm, I began to emerge giddy with lust and devotion, from the paincloud….Beast ride home more demanding and draining than enjoyable BUT spotted a wild deer in the same woods where me and Heather laid down a few months back and fucked, on a bed of branches and leaves, like weasel lovers in heat…fell asleep arm in arm with Monty, eye to eye….Beautiful, Furry fool kept waking me by rubbing his paw and stretching his claws on my scraggly chin…


28th of Something

unexpected but most welcome wave has washed over me, leaving me calm and loose. Pleasant-ish dinner under the live railway tracks, each time a beast roared overehead part of me trembled with an amusing mix of fear and excitement…’what would we do if a train fell through?’…added spice to the languid exchange of feeble conversation and awkward sibling silliness…I will leave here tomorrow with a heavy heart, because of Monty. he is here now, curled in a ball at my feet. I wish I could take him with me, but he wouldn’t like Australia, he is better off here with my mother and his hard to fathom brother. I hope I see them both in the future, not just in my mind’s eye…One of the reasons I have returned to the UK on two occasions when I could theoretically have remained in Melbourne is lack of love. I got love from several wonderful people in Brighton, mother and cats back home, Mario from afar…..This time, I have enough love from a girl, to keep me happy anywhere. Her love is a smile which appears on my face whenever I let her image take shape in my everything.

2nd November Hell

Fridays farewell started heavenly but descended to hades as the drinks flowed…To see my lady across the bar, asking a stranger for drugs, smiles aplenty, he looks keen, on her, not making friends, then they exit the front doors together, his hand on her back…Either I cry, or I’m livid….I choose livid. No tears left in these eyes, only bitterness ad anger in the spirit….

…It isnt much to ask…“Dont ask strangers who want to fuck you, for drugs.”


SAturday…a last improvement but I’m still edgy….SHe thinks i’m jealous…I’m hot blooded but more interested in Respect…There has to be compromise…But compromise takes effort which I am unsure if she wants to give to The Cause….I don’t want to cage her, I just expect respect…Drink makes her judgement the most dangerous threat to our love.


 

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