Awaken

Goodbye old England; all covered in rain. See you in twenty thirteen.

(P.S. Get involved.)

Growth

Our last supper. (If Jesus were around now, I'm sure he'd approve.)

I was thinking of doing a retrospective of this year; as I did last year. If I have time before I head away for NYE; I'll do it. After sitting here for ten seconds, thinking back; it's been an roller-coaster. This sums it up nicely.

 

All of the thoughts we waste
Under the weight of the world
All of the time we spend
with the weight of the world

Don't miss you ways
Don't miss your leaving
Love live my pain
Long live my feelings

Blind and childish
I won't fight it
Here I hide
Underneath my innocence

Grow, Grow
 

All of the lies we bent
Under the weight of the world
Caught beaten by the edge
Of the weight of the world

Long live this pain
Long live this feeling
Don't need to change
Need to believe in

Blind and childish
I won't fight it
Here I hide
Underneath my innocence
Grow, Grow
Here I hide...

Blind and childish
I won't fight it
Here I hide
Underneath my innocence
Grow, Grow

in·sight

/ˈinˌsīt/

Noun

1. The capacity to gain an accurate and deep intuitive understanding of a person or thing.
2. An understanding of this kind: "new insights into the behavior of whales".

A Gamble

From the moon
Mani sees us all
with both eyes
he expects to see everything
so nothing is unexpected
But, what can he predict?
Time, tide and
the uncertainty of mankind.

We roll dice
play with numbers
trick our confidence
toss coins
hedge our bets
and fix our odds

Embrace that whether we
understand it or not
that whatever the gamble
whatever prize
however much risk
the universe will be
perfectly ordered

Blessed be those who
let the whirling wheel turn
to embrace
and occupy a space in time
delicately treading between
air, water, fire and earth
with promises
suspended
hang in the air
waiting to be plucked from
the harvest of life

Wonderful gifts may not
be wrapped as you expect
so cast away idle hopes
empty shadows
walk forth into the
sea with arms open wide
and bathe in the light
of the Oak Moon

Have a Merry Yule.

Blessed be.

Reading to Reading

Having starting to once again get the train to and from work in the past week; I have had the pleasurable experience of having the time to get through a few short stories. The first is a book given to me by a friend; E.M. Forster's The Machine Stops which contains The Machine Stops story but also The Celestial Omnibus.
The Machine Stops is a chilling tale written in 1909 foreseeing the move towards a society devoid and fearful of human interaction, where the "Machine" is omnipresent and there is a total disconnection from nature. It's interesting to see how much closer our society has come to this bleak way of life than was being experienced just over 100 years ago. Thankfully we're not quite there yet. We're much closer to Huxley's Brave New World's apathetic masses than the automated and joyous existence of Forster's vision. Don't forget to take your soma.
The Celestial Omnibus is the antithesis of The Machine Stops. A charming tale of a young boy's willingness to not accept what is expected of him and seek adventure despite the consequences. It's fantastical description of unexplored lands delivered in such a short stroke is a masterful act.

Although I've still got about thirty pages to go; All My Friends Are Superheroes by Andrew Kaufman has hit me squarely between the eyes. A wonderfully witty and insightful way of describing the intricacies of human nature, individualism, the differences between us and what draws us together. Buy it. Read it. Pass it on.

After starting this book five or six months ago on a beautiful train trip to Sweden, I have finally finished The One Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out Of The Window And Disappeared. Allan's nonchalant attitude towards life and everything that it throws at him is admirable. The way in which his life's story is told in parallel with his window climbing escapades keeps you flicking the pages and you can't help but chuckle at the sheer (entirely believable) ridiculousness of it all. Read it with an open mind and you'll love it.

Whilst on our travels, I read Paul Theroux's The Great Train Bazaar. Somehow he has helped me understand my Dad's slight-obsession with trains and all things train related, without actually stepping on a train whilst I was reading it.  Theroux describes how train travel is like no other way of getting from one place to another. A car demands input, attention and concentration. An aeroplane is sterile, faceless and impersonal. Whilst on a train you can interact with your environment and fellow passengers or simply sleep. Train travel gives you choices and I can see how whilst traveling through a variety of countries, this can have a certain magic and majesty. Despite being a grumpy traveler, the frequent hints of adventure throughout his four month voyage make for entertaining reading. I'll be picking up something of his again, hopefully on another adventure.

Aside of my recent literary choices; life's good. I am hugely missing Koh Tao and being under the sea. I've worked out that it's a mere £3,000 and three months of my life spent in a tropical paradise to get from my current Advanced level to that of an Instructor... Where's my piggy bank? Fortunately my flat has now gone on the market and there has been a lot of interested despite me not being available to show anyone around. I've got my eye on a nice little place in Caversham which I hope I will be able to Let out if I decide to bugger off for a few months, or years..

Listened to this about ten times this week.. "You are creating all the bubbles at play.."

Hugely looking forward to next Friday's Yule celebration at the Ankerwycke Yew. I'm in the process of writing something to read during the event. I've got sense of nervous anticipation about the whole situation, but I know I'm going to be surrounded by kind hearted people. And I'll probably will have had a skinful of mead by the time I come to read; Dutch courage.

your face it dances.

This came on earlier and stopped me in my tracks.

 

Highlights; some in low light.

HTMS Sattakut, Koh Tao. 

 
Sairee Beach, Koh Tao.

Tongtakian Beach, Koh Samui

Koh Samui

(Photos © Harry McKeown 2012)

Banzai

whip-crack metal on metal
resonate cold pressed
equalised ear drums
pinched noses
jaws clenched
heads tilted towards the surface
swirling bubbles buoy our bodies
offsetting contracted lungs
as we hover delicately

new language signals make for
slow comprehension
no lost translation
forefinger meeting thumb
making a peaceful circle
rocky hands of concern
slashed throat setting off
learnt skills demanded
redressing the calm
whilst striking through the head
declaring the holy grail
the king of the sea

descent darker into an
ink blot scape
slivers of silver flash
thousands of tiny souls
moving as one broad connection
creation carpets mountainous
installations as life beyond recognition
plays out in Earth's inner space

wide eyes periscoped
busting craned necks scanning
that thin line of trust between
your buddy's next breath
and inherent inquisition
at odds
then at one
with the water

currents waving goodbye to
blue bottomed boats
grabbing hold of taught lines
breaching the plateaued surface
gracefully grabbing shifting steps
wishing waiting wanting
for the next plunge

"What a difference a day (or three) makes.."

To the end of the world

Eight thousand three hundred and seventy four point eight miles
behind waking expectations
my slated mind would be
scrubbed clean of the sand
dropping through her hourglass
figuring calculations under bamboo
breaking waves breathing stuttering
hillsides gasping beneath neon
planes flying low clipping wings
scarred arenite pulling faces
thrill seeking pleasure miners
drilling deep down to an unrighteous utopia

Reflections

Finally. She's going. Last week, my irritating lodger handed in her notice and will be leaving on the 1 December. Her absent mindedness, selfish attitude, irritating personality and inconsiderate behaviour have mounted up to make her the worst lodger I've had by a country mile. I like to think that I see the best in people, try to ignore their foibles and accept them for who they are, but this idiot has just pushed, pushed and pushed her luck. Sadly, she won't ever change and her slutty male-attention-seeking demeanour is only going to make her sadder as she grows older. Good riddance.

After about ten months of faffing, my flat will be going on the market the day I step off the plane back onto English soil. (Don't want to think about that moment at all right now as I'm enjoying the anticipation of leaving for so much unknown adventure.) A debate has raging as to whether to not buy anywhere else and bugger off on a UN Volunteering mission. It's something I've always wanted to do and now is as good as a time as any. The stability of owning my own home, job, car, pension, blah, blah, blah.. has it's attraction to so many people. Even doing what I do for a career hasn't provided me the peace I expected. It's less about the job, more about the comfortable rut that I've dug myself into. I am mindful that trying to change my environment to match up to an expectation about personal satisfaction or contentment isn't the right way to go about things. However, the "necessities" of living a happy life seem to only be slowly draining away my patience. The next fortnight will be a good time to take on some perspective, carry on listening the encouraging words I've been hearing and perhaps get closer to some understanding.

This has been on the soundtrack to the past week. (Apparently I missed her at Reading Festival this summer and I'm "so uncool" not to know who she is... This was said whilst I was being forced to watch the X-Factor. I rest my case.)

Sadly, one of my relatives has been given a twenty one month prison sentence. It wasn't unexpected, however it has still been a great shock to my Granddad and Mum, who frankly, don't need the stress. It won't be the first time visiting a relative in prison, but it will be the first time I'll be in a position to be able to try to support them; hopefully with brighter prospects and some hope.

A more pleasurable recent experience was visiting the Ankerwycke Yew on the invitation of a member of the Ankerwycke Coven for the celebration of Sanhaim ("so-aim"). Thirty or so of the most friendly, loving, interested people gathered in a misty dark woods near to Runnymede. Wearing cloaks underneath a two-thousand year old yew tree and invoking the spirits of earth, wind, fire and water caught my attention. The group guided meditation through the thin wall into the spirit world firmly cemented my interest, but sharing home made cakes and a few chalices of Mead made me want to stay.  The only way to describe it is magical. Paganism (in all of it's various guises) has lit a flame inside; it feels so visceral and tangible as a belief system. The lack of culturally negative doctrine and acceptance of (practically) any interpretation on their ideology sets it apart from most religions I've come across. I've been asked to write a poem for their Yule celebration in December, so, I'm going to read, learn and try to understand before I set pen to paper.

A slightly more hazy night was once again spent in the Milk Bar. This time, rum was consumed, but in the form of their spectacularly chaos inducing "Milk Bottle" cocktails. You got it. Pints of rum cocktail. Fill in the dots.

Having the night off from doing anything tonight has been a soothing opportunity to reflect on the past week or so. Life is good, but I'm mindful of getting caught up in events and getting swept away in the tide again. If I don't have time to write again in the next week; I'll see you in December for some Elbow fun, Grenville Hall and the blasted countdown to Christmas.

Goodnight all and Blessed Be.

No pause, no rewind.

Sat hip to hip with the curtains closed.

 

Haven't had much chance to catch up with anything much this week. 65 hours of work and I'll be heading in this afternoon for some more. The weather has taken hold over the past week and it's had a shocking effect. Less said the better.

We did make it to Poet's Cafe last Friday and I read my spider poem.  If I thought nerves caught up with me, a girl, about 19/20 years old read a piece likening life to the gold rush pan-handling "experience" at Lego Land with such pace and veracity I thought she might implode. She couldn't get off of the stage quickly enough. As I was walking out, Lego Land girl stopped me, looked at me nervously, barked "I love your poem.", then ran out of the room followed by a young lad who stomped off after her after cutting me a dirty look. My response of "Whatthehuuuuhmeh..?" cued fits of giggles and we went out exploring the world of rum.

After trawling t'interweb, there doesn't seem to be an abundance of live music in Bangkok, but these guys look like they're worth a look.

 

 High ho, high ho, it's off to work I go.

Countdown

This made me smile, a lot.

Moments

"Nice weather for ducks." Has anyone ever even asked ducks if they like the rain?

The past few days I have been witness to some events in the street which have brought a smile to my face in one way or another..

Last night, a young man skilfully rode his bicycle no-handed down the Oxford Road, smiling from ear-to-ear at passing strangers, dancing with his arms and singing an indecipherable tune. An older dapper looking gentleman walking beside me at the time shared some gestures of amusement and a hearty chuckle.

This morning, a young Asian women stopped in front of me, pointed at an old Asian woman in the middle of Broad Street and shrieked "YOU KNOW MY MUVVER!!".. Scaring the bejesus out of me and the old woman. (I didn't catch their subsequent conversation but I assume she did know her MUVVER.)

At lunchtime, a small child span around and around and around, like a falling seed in the middle of a busy street, right until dizziness overcame him and he fell over; at my feet. He proceeded to giggle and held his tummy as he rolled around on the floor.

Life is nothing but a series of moments and I hope a lot of them are like these.

Tonight, a number of moments were spent at the launch of the 46th edition of SOUTH bi-annual poetry magazine, at Reading Library. Some of the contributors / readers were twee and self-indulgent, however thankfully, a number were captivating. One gentleman's tale of the mementos one brings back from trips (tickets, maps, postcards etc) struck a high chord with me. Particular mention goes to the professional contributor of this edition, Carolyn King, who read a number of (personally) edifying pieces. I feel like I knew some of them, somehow, but have no idea how.

Dear reader. (I hope.)

I hope you're smiling. Whatever it is you're doing. On the bus, sat eating your breakfast, drinking coffee, watching TV or staring at the ceiling.

Where-ever you're reading this, look out of the window and think. (Try it.)

I hope someone, somewhere thinks you're the best thing since the best thing before sliced bread. Even if they don't right now; they will.. They just might not know it yet. You might have already met them and you haven't quite worked it out.

I hope you are loved.

I hope the choices in your life are leading you down a path of happiness. That you know the difficult hurdles you are overcoming are worth the risk. That you know the hardest choice to take is usually the right one. That you know that pain is often worth the reward, but that pleasure doesn't have to start or end with suffering. That you can still find beauty in simple pleasures. That you can forgive and forget. That you know that you and you alone are responsible for your own happiness. That you agree that perfection is only in our minds. That you know that you are capable of anything and everything. That you can practice what you preach. That you are more than the sum of your parts if you know where to find yourself.

I hope.

Adventure.

Booked...

It's not somewhere that has immediately jumped out as me as somewhere I'd visit in the past; but reading up on the landscape, the culture, the architecture and for the ease of travel around the country it's a difficult one to pass over.

Lovely

This morning I was introduced to the wonderful salty gorgeousness of Marmite mushrooms. Liberally plonk some butter in a pan, add mushrooms, cook until they go gloopy, add a dollop of Marmite, give it a mix, then serve on toast with some scrambled eggies. Omnomnomnomnomnomnom. This, along with vast amounts of coffee, watching programmes about Australian customs officers (?) and playing with the world's cutest cat (after Dylan and Roxy obviously) went some way to solving what could've been the worst hangover in the history of the world since time began and maybe even before that.. But I could be exaggerating.

Watching A F Harrold (or "Ashley" to his friends or at least acquaintances) Lovely Cabaret last night was such a delight. Being introduced to the insanely witty John Hegley was alone worth the ticket but the magnificent Robin Ince doing his mixture of bizarre scientific banter and observational comedy was the cherry on the top of the Lovely cake. We frequented the The Milk Bar afterwards (which apparently is named after an alcoholic milk drink that used to be served from the Inn which is now the bar) and discovered that I like (good) rum. Therefore, much rum was consumed for the rest of the evening. Hence the hangover. Obviously. Slightly more civilised evening planned tonight...

This came on my shuffle earlier this week and I've been listening to it quite a bit -

This time last year, I can distinctly remember listening to this (along with the rest of the album), sat reading the Millennium trilogy on the train too and from Reading everyday. The crisp morning air, the orange, purple and red sunrises and the overwhelming sadness that I felt at the time; it feels like another life.

I'm ready for my close up..

Tomorrow evening I have been invited to take part as an audience member in a live debate on BBC3's Free Speech  special on immigration. The other topics for discussion are 'arming the Police', 'Nick Clegg's apology' and 'Page 3 models'; which are all subjects close to my heart. I'd applied a few weeks ago and completely forgotten about it, so I was pleasantly surprised to receive an e-mail from the production company today inviting me.

What's even more special about this event is that three of my clients have been working with the same production company on a programme about multi-culturalism in Britain and also have been invited to be part of the crew tomorrow night... Incredibly proud of them! I might even get to meet Jake Humphrey.

Season. Change.

The cold nights have begun in earnest and I'm sleeping like a contented kitten. This feeling of being snuggled up in bed when the world is slowly turning frosty is almost worth the shorter days. Waking in the darkness has its drawbacks, but driving towards the sunrise can be spectacular. (After being stuck in traffic for four hours last weekend and missing the Autumn equinox celebrations; I'm making triple sure I'll be at Samhaim.)


Sunday morning was particularly beautiful and we were blessed with tranquil conditions by the Thames as we ran the Reading 10k in 57.30 and 57.31 respectively.. Both personal bests. Having someone to pace me at the beginning was great as I usually go off like a stabbed rat and my (gentle) motivational pushing for the last 1k was apparently well needed. The afternoon spent horizontal, eating crumpets, being cooked a MEGA roast and falling asleep on some incredibly comfy sofas made for the most relaxed Sunday for a verrrry long time.

It will be my last run for a while as I'm starting a climbing, weights, occasional yoga and eating LOADS regime tomorrow in preparation for November. As much as I love running, it doesn't do anything for my body shape and I need to bulk up a tad. Climbing is a good mix of cardio and strength training so I'll keep that up... However three hours of it tonight after yesterday's exertions was exhausting. I should  pace myself, but sod it... Bring on the pain.


Following on from my last post; I was overhoyed to learn that my friend's band will be touring with Rae Morris in a few months! What are the odds, eh? This week, I've been listening to this a lot..

Silhouette

"Walls" (Live) Rae Morris

Orange light streaks across the onyx black of my phone, catching glimpses of the train station names as we pass through at a steady pace. She takes off her blue cardigan as we shake, rattle and roll. Her thin bare shoulders reveal a constellation of freckles on delicate skin. Sharing headphones I hear more than half of her song, Let's Go Crazy, Sorrow and watching stuttering videos of Troll as we slide past Taplow. Tonight soft young fingers plucked string, stroked ivory as shivers filled my spine and tears fill her eyes. Their endeavours rewarded by unbridled admiration as the lyrics resonate against the high ceilings. We plan to put them both in our pockets, steal them for us and move to the seaside. Capturing the dandelion silhouette of her mane drawn over a mountainous wall of colour will have to suffice for now. We sing Disney songs between swigs of luke warm Earl Grey on a cold bench as we wait for our train; the last train home. Sniggering at the memory of jigging and joining elbows in the courtyard as country and western music echoed from below street level. We were called to another place far away from here but the night will never finish at The Worlds' End. Leather adorns the places not covered by tattoos and metal as they stagger with surprising ease out of view. High legged chairs behind our past, our present and our futures laid bare on the table between two wines glasses, a candle and a beer mat.

Rules (new)

Wine spills on the felt bag
filled with tiny square tiles
Chancing luck and sobriety
Our knuckles unknowingly brush
with hope against perfect pieces

Without needing to see
We battle for control of cities
Place tiny people sideways
holding their own
Squeezed between roads
never ending undulations

Forgetting our old rules
Begin a new game with new players
We agree to rules we will never read
Scoring without care
Clicking for cloisters

Accepting that spaces may appear where no other tile will fit
Fighting battles
Enjoying the spoils of war
Double or quits

Next year's sun

The phone in my hands trembled slightly (despite the three pints of what I thought was called "Good Old Ron" but was actually called "Good Old Boy") as I read one of my poems in public for the first time on Friday night. Choosing "Rubik" (which became "Rubiks' Cube" as the nerves hit me on stage) felt good as it was an old-ish poem that talks of past difficulties between two people. Although I missed it as I rushed off the stage as quickly as I possibly could; I was told in the pub afterwards that there was a collective "oooooo" from the audience at the end of my reading. (This may have been them registering their disgust at my besmirching of their memories of a beloved childhood toy; however this is unlikely as most of them are sixty plus...) Despite the fear and thousand butterflies that danced vigourously in my stomach, I'll do it again. Next time I won't stay out so late afterwards... No hangover could ruin yesterday's saunter to Sonning; on what must've been the last pleasant day of the year. 

I said that I'd get back to writing more frequently and I've done so. Having a clear mind is helping with the inspiration. It's been mentioned in the dispatches of my head that reflecting on life with today's drizzle hasn't be too helpful... November is going to throw in two weeks of sunshine alongside a lot of time being horizontal; that's got to be helpful, surely?

Goodbye old England, until next year's sun...

(Eight legged) companion

A spider lives in my wing mirror

I've never seen him yet everyday he leaves 

silken traces that I dare not disturb 

as his homely reflections 

delicately waft in the slipstream

I travel with my elusive 

companion weaving his tangled web 

occasionally funnelling towards 

dazzling indicators

as my ticket to freedom 

remains his home

Regular journeys turning into irregular choices

by blue messages appearing on 

glass nestled between my thighs

connecting then missing a turn

The distances grown

stretch black tarmac 

thinner than chewing gum 

beneath two bands of rubber

Millions of seconds sat on blue weave 

heading towards a lifetime of firsts

a neutral third rings out changing 

down from fifth missing a perfect fourth

I swerve over a fidgeting balloon 

in the middle of the carriageway

which to my surprise survives

Seventy thousand miles travelled 

without ever knowing my stowaway

and should we ever meet

I will ask how the road looks 

going backwards

Walking home from Reading last night, I had the unfortunate pleasure of being mugged for my phone. To add injury to insult; I ended up with a massive gash on the back of my head and a concussion. Had I put up a fight over a stupid phone; I wouldn't expect any sympathy, but I didn't.. I wish I could remember exactly what happened, but I can't as I blacked out and can't remember anything that happened either side of the event. I'm not particularly bothered about my head; it's my phone that I'm irritated about. If someone's desparate enough to walk up to someone and steal their phone; there's nothing much you can do about it.

Will write more when I'm feeling slightly more with it.

UPDATE - How interesting technology is... The "FindMyiPhone" app e-mailed me a few hours ago to tell me that it'd located my phone in the grottiest grot-hole in Reading. Just spoke to the Police who are going to send Officers over to the address and have a look. Fingers cross they catch the little fucker sweetheart. In other news; my concussion is better and I'm in better spirits all round. Getting out of the house for dinner last night and just sitting watching the TV in peace and quiet with someone was just the ticket.

(It's strange but one of the songs I've been listening to recently (Diversity by Family of the Year) was written following the lead singer getting mugged. Is this coincidental or ironic?)

Rubik

Twisted broken wrists,
manipulation and
taking ever changing sides.
Unfinished faces split
the light six colours to the wind.
Frustration and desire
breed inherent admiration.
Two squares on opposite ends,
unable to find the other.
Forever losing the game.

Timing

Good morning interweb. How does the world look from where you're sitting? The sky is turquoise interspersed with haziness; which also happens to be a good summary of how I feel.

Last night was the first evening for a week and a half that I spent alone. Some solitude was most appreciated, despite the lovely times I've been having. For the first time in about two years, it felt weird being back alone in my flat, however, it's lovely to not have my squeaky lodger here for the next week. Huzzah.

I made contact with my old lodger (and good friend) who I had completely neglected over the past six months for one reason or another. My apology was graciously received despite her disappointment and it was humbling to hear her say how much she'd missed me. I look forward to seeing her in a few weekends time for some nonsense up town with my freckled meatball chum.

Yesterday was a sad day at work. A client who had given me my most emotionally memorable moment of my professional career sadly found out that their nineteen year old son died in a car crash early in the morning. The grief resonated throughout the office in the afternoon when we learnt of the news. Constantly I remind the team of "professional boundaries" (and I'm constantly reminded by someone!); but it's incredibly difficult to separate yourself from such overwhelmingly sad news. We can't change what's happened, but we can be there to listen.

Looking through my e-mails and checking my calendar last night reminded me that I'm going to see Rae Morris in a few weeks time. It'll be good to get to know a singer with someone; you share their music and their journey simultaneously. Pleasingly I had also forgot how attractive she is.. She's shot straight to the top of my list.

This song has been played a few times over the past twelve hours and has already become a firm favourite -

Had I heard this at any point throughout August (which I'm planning on getting erased from my memory in a Men In Black or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind fashion); I might have interpreted it completely differently. It probably would have been a tale of unrequited hope, desperation and sorrow sung to somebody. Hearing it for the first time yesterday however, it became a deeply honest sermon sung to yourself about the paths we take and the hope that we can find inside ourselves.

My blog seems to consist of minor reflections on what's been going on in my day-to-day life and music videos, which wasn't what I originally intended it to be. I've been neglecting writing anything and my wood carving project also died a timely death a fortnight ago. Need to get back on track.

The weather better hold out this weekend. Golf, film, flight booking, a walk and the pub. I hope you all have a good one.

Shaken

"In a gentle way, you can shake the world." Gandhi.

I turned down the job. It sounded great and the money was good. What I need now though is tenacity and commitment, not change. Running from the life I have to an imagined reality is not healthy. I'm content with what I have as I have a lot. There's nothing lacking and life is good. The act of looking away from what I already have is merely a distraction.

Conceptual hippy bullshit? Yup. It works for me.

Listening to this a lot this week -

Indian summer

in·di·an sum·mer

Noun:

1. A period of unusually dry, warm weather occurring in late autumn.

2. A period of happiness or success occurring late in life.

Check out these guys, if you like the sound of some summery folk.. Particularly this little ditty -

Oh. And these guys are also well worth a listen. Roll down your windows and let the sounds wash over..

Thus far, this has been an awesome weekend. *Smiley face*. We're off to Oxford to punt along the Thames shortly. I'll try not to fall in.

Etesian wind rippled water
Trailing below soft waking waves
Nodding gently against shoreline

debris
                                                     flotsam
                                                              jetsam

Prising apart oars
Thudding thud thudding tones
Relaying dull echoes

pitching
                                     rolling
                  yawing

Pandora's compass balanced
aside maps
Blindly leading beyond
her ever knowing nowhere

Anthem

Since Saturday night, I have mostly listened to this -

Today, I have the day off to go to an interview. The job itself sounds great; more money, less hassle dealing with clients, a (MUCH) bigger organisation (e.g. more chance for progression) and a car allowance. Sounds peachy; eh? Well, it would be if it wasn't that it was in a totally alien location and I'd be leaving a job and an organisation which echo the values (which have taken a battering of late) that I hold close. Additionally, the past two weeks has shown me how many (new and old) friends I have in Reading and in particular an incredible new someone who has been going through the same turmoil as me. The opportunity for experiencing an interview for such a position is something that I can't turn down regardless of whether I actually want the job or not. So, I'm going today to meet some new people and be satisfied with the experience regardless of what happens.

UPDATE - Wow. That went well. I've not laughed so much in an interview before! It was friendly without being over-familiar and they didn't ask the types of questions that I expected.. Thought provoking and gave some insight into how the organisation wants to be seen. It pleased me to hear about how they would like to provide support for those with substance misuse, alcohol, mental health and offending issues; which sits well with those values I'd miss at my current job. However, the real surprise was that the area that the role covers will be everything south of Derbyshire... (Ha!) So, lot of the time will be spent travelling. I wait to see how it unfolds.

Failure

Reading this (amongst other things) has helped me with some insight into the way in which we all deal with failure. I have taken some solice in this from reflecting back on my own failures and the failures of others in my life.

Be kind but remain honest and if you are angry with yourself or someone else; listen to the message that they're trying to give you as it might not be immediately obvious. They might be scared, they might be disappointed, they might be lonely or they might not understand your thoughts or fears. And in the same breath; you might not understand your own thoughts or feelings.

You can't fix everyone's problems or failures and you might not even be able to fix your own. If you can listen to them, accept them and be at peace with them; you're doing well.

Hope

'Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul.
And sings the tune
Without the words,
and never stops at all.'
Emily Dickinson

Quote

'It is never too late to be what you might have been.'
George Eliot (Mary Anne Evans).

Heartbroken

(Jessie Ware - Wildest Moments)

When the glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel turns out to be a speeding train and you can't get out of the way in time. When you step in a puddle and fall in over your head. When an invisible wire cuts you in half as you cycle down the road. When happiness suddenly seems like mist. When you thought that there was still a tiny chance that you could make it work and it doesn't. When you've looked at your heart, soul and mind to find all of your failures and you've tried to put them right. When you realise you can only change yourself. When everything around you reminds you of that person. When all you long for is to be forgiven and they can't find it in their heart. When they still love you and you still love them. When that's not enough.

If you are sitting reading this and you've experienced true, unrefined pain from a break up with someone who you truly love; you may comprehend how I'm feeling at this moment.

Upstream

You flew into my life
like a kite on a summer's breeze,
wings as bright as a peacock.

A new moon reflected
your soul to mine over a bridge
as revellers passed underneath.

Diving in, feet first after paddling in the
water, waiting for other boats to
pass through our lock.

Holding fast to your heart as water
swirls around us. Both growing closer with
each breath taken beneath the surface.

Enticing tiny bubbles
tickle the surface of our skin, interlocked,
learning to swim.

Blessed with inherent warmth,
climbing my body to kiss
my parted lips as water lilies float
calmly on our mirrored sky.

A storm passes overhead as
bitter silt and grains of sand cloud our
crystal vision of tranquillity.

Sticks, stones, mud.
Against the ebb and flow. We ride
the currents together.

Without us, we are
nothing. With us,
we are everything.

Passing fear of the boats already passed
and losing our grip as the water muddies
around our naked bodies.

Missing the warmth of our being,
not seeing what it is we are and what
we have through the murky depths.

Clearing the water takes time, gaining
perspective and finding
space and time once again.

We will swim upstream together holding hands,
through the reeds, and find each other in
a place where we can just, be.

Storms will come,
the waters will muddy
and we will lose each other's hand.

Though I will never
forget the everything
in my life that needs to exist.

Harry

What's in a name, anyway?

Lost poem

I have found a poem which I'd written for a competition some years ago. It was written about catching that first glimpse and touch of a person you care for dearly after travelling the trains of Europe for three weeks. The inspiration for the poem is an incredible person who I now, boastfully call my girlfriend. The title could do with some work, but the sentiment remains true to this day.

Love Train  

Passing footsteps and the clap of
the timetables snap me back, a final glance
had whispered across the speckled floor, a narrow
gaze which wouldn't suffice, for three long
weeks without your smile, wide and without excuse.

The click clack of bundles of life and presents
from hot streets stifle my ears, stretching to hear
the whistle, doors opening and bodies stretching
across the worn platform, wrestling with aching limbs.

Familiar patterns, arched neck with ruby red,
skipping beats and a drench of bee stings on my
neck, finally that smile meets mine, the world around
oblivious to sunset hair or translucent skin,
a delivery of elation.

Deciphered.

Three seven four two six;
deciphered, the door unlocks.
Grey daylight etches.

Soul tree.

Darting green inquisition.
Bitten bottom lip.
Red wave.
Clenched hand gripped or
guided by an inner voice.

Searching for a soul tree
amongst a tightly thatched
sea of Pine.

An arched Willow bow,
taught quivers firing
at a heart shaped needle.

Leaves brushing and Silver Birch flaking against our skin,
exquisitely for seven years.
Strangers in a familiar forest of soft scents, insight and passion.

The search continues as windmills, streams and lakes pass.
This tree cannot be found.
Trees cannot move,
only sway in the wind or be cut down.

A fruitless search.
There is not a single tree.
We believe our rings of growth belie the truth.

Our truth.
We are the forest, the wind, the earth, the interwoven roots.
Catching each other if we fall.
The forest still stands.

Doug / Update

Nostalgically, I watched a couple of episodes of Doug whilst doing my ironing last night. I have realised that aside from my loving family; my moral standpoint and attitude towards life is directly influenced by Doug's teachings.
Not only has it shaped my life views, it lead me towards my affinity for the creative type when it comes to my taste in females. Doug's sister Judy's Bohemian attitude towards the world, red hair and generally eccentricity are everything I look for in a woman.
I'm not sure if it's sad, mad or sweet.

In other news, starting tomorrow, I shall be embarking on the trip of a lifetime with the girl of my dreams. Devon, Copenhagen and Stockholm; all in ten days. I've never looked forward so much to a holiday in my entire life. It will be amaze-balls.

My morning

Wake alcoholic
"No drink before 1 P.M."
Light footsteps downhill

Thought for the day

Driving to work this morning, I was utterly captivated by the sentiment shared by the often controversial (but in this case righteous) author Ann Atkins. The last paragraph of her Thought For The Day sent shivers up my spine.


I was attending a workshop on women and violence. One told her story. She was eighteen and visiting a farm with her boyfriend. Alone together, they had sex even though she didn’t want to. Guilt-ridden, humiliated and demeaned, why didn’t she report anything? Because even though she had clearly said no, it didn’t occur to her for nearly ten years that she had just been raped.

We heard yesterday that one woman in four, in England and Wales, suffers domestic violence during her life; two women a week murdered by partners. A hundred thousand females living in Britain have had their genitals mutilated so they can never feel sexual pleasure, and not one prosecution in the years since this became illegal. There are thousands of incidences of so-called honour-based violence a year, and many more forced marriages.

When our daughter took part in a BBC programme in the East End of London, she found that all the girls there her age had suffered brutality from their boyfriends. They thought nothing of it: you have sex, you get beaten, at least your man protects you from others.

Researching for my first book, on gender issues, I studied God’s pronouncement to the woman, after the archetypal couple disobeys God’s laws. “The man... will rule over you.” Not God’s punishment for sin, but the inevitable consequence of it. Given that we put self first, the strong will exploit the week; always have and always will. Judeo-Christian Scripture is full of God’s bias to the vulnerable: the poor, the dispossessed, the underclass. It is not just men and women who are equal in value, but not necessarily in power or strength.

In the civilised West we’re all against oppressing women. I don’t suppose you beat your wife any more than I do. But there are many kinds of exploitation. How many women will come home from a long day today, to a longer evening of housework? How many bullied in the workplace? Or pressured into roles they didn’t choose: in recent history with little opportunity to go out to work, now with little opportunity to do otherwise?

We pride ourselves on our liberal democracy. We don’t like to censure porn - but Kier Starmer, Director of Public Prosecutions, has linked the high level of violence in teenage relationships to exposure to sexually explicit sites. We mustn’t question alternative forms of family - though boys brought up without their biological fathers are more likely to demonstrate aggression. We feel uncomfortable about clamping down on prostitution - despite the danger we all know they work in.

They brought Him a woman who had done wrong. The proscribed punishment was to throw rocks at her until she was killed. Would He forgive, and break their law? Or comply, and initiate violence?

He bent down, and wrote in the dirt.

She had been caught in the act of adultery. A misdemeanor that takes two. So where was the other one?

In many areas of life men remain more powerful than women. One sure mark of civilisation is when the strong raise passionate voices in protection of those who are less so. When men battle against violence towards women, we’ve taken a good step forward.

Thought For The Day podcast

Because The Night

Aside from jigging around to 'You Can Call Me Al', this was the highlight of my weekend... (Patti Smith lyrics capture the feeling you only get with that one person you love, lust and trust; in those moments that you wish lasted forever. She gets the message across loud and clear.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGi7gCXr3fk&feature=youtube_gdata_player (Not the best quality, but it's the only one I could find from the weekend!)

Take me now baby here as I am
Pull me close, try and understand
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe
Love is a banquet on which we feed

Come on now try and understand
The way I feel when I'm in your hands
Take my hand come undercover
They can't hurt you now,
Can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us

Have I doubt when I'm alone
Love is a ring, the telephone
Love is an angel disguised as lust
Here in our bed until the morning comes
Come on now try and understand
The way I feel under your command
Take my hand as the sun descends
They can't touch you now,
Can't touch you now, can't touch you now
Because the night belongs to lovers ...

With love we sleep
With doubt the vicious circle
Turn and burns
Without you I cannot live
Forgive, the yearning burning
I believe it's time, too real to feel
So touch me now, touch me now, touch me now
Because the night belongs to lovers ...

Because tonight there are two lovers
If we believe in the night we trust
Because tonight there are two lovers ...

Kinetic Rain

Corporate art installations usually have little to say, however, in this instance Changi Airport have said an awful lot.

http://vimeo.com/m/45188800

It's one of the most elegant and visceral sculptures I've ever seen.

Amen

http://guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/jun/27/young-people-are-rubbish?cat=commentisfree&type=article

Suzanne Moore, I salute thee.

Life's too fucking short. Smile. Learn. Dance. Love. Be happy.

Kittens

This evening I was blessed with the quote of the week (maybe even the year) from my girlfriend -

"I wish we had kittens instead of babies when we got pregnant. I'd have loads of kittens."

I love her.

Friday 4.45pm

Sea of masses roars
Smiling red hair breaks cover
Overwhelming joy

Morning

Impatient raindrop
Races towards deep water
Apples hang sweetly

May Thirteenth

Popping gum twixt teeth

Himalayan merriment

Endless memories

Witness

"Nine nine nine.. You cunt"
Daybreak Police interview
Coffee tastes bitter

Running Haiku

Heart beating faster
Burning chest lit like candle
Lone bird sings softly

Solisbury Hill

I'd like to climb up Solisbury Hill.

Boom boom boom.

Sideways rain and the hum of an electric station diverts his path towards the door. The doorbell can't be heard but a light goes on and a shadow moves across the heavy stone floor. The box covered with butterfly wrapping paper protected and disguised under his jacket, the black felt collar sodden and wilting. A shaft of light and cracks, a nose then an eye. A warm glow of recognition and the smell of apples. Embraced, tears flood their eyes as two parched lips meet again, again and again. The silk scarf is not for a day like today, but under these same stars, another day it would have been perfect. Re-acquaintance, handshakes, then making excuses. Leaving through the same door, across the crunchy leaf strewn path, they slip into the still warm car. The roads are empty as families sleep on their sofas, richer for the day together. Nothing is said. All of the talking has been done. No more questions. All of the answers have been revealed. All that's left now is to be.

"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be."

♥

Two birds, one stone

Save animals AND the planet -

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2012/apr/13/less-meat-prevent-climate-change?

Low

Water, like cowardice and lust, always finds the lowest level.

This, this and this.

A lot to say and not a lot of time to say it.. So this update will consist of a list of sorts. (I like lists.)

1. I was inspired to look at this and then this today. It's has been a long standing desire of mine to move to Denmark, and as an EU Citizen, it seems remarkably simple. I shall do this when I'm thirty; although I've already enquired about jobs in homelessness. The Danes have an extremely squiffy way of defining homelessness which needs some working on.

2. This will hopefully be where I'm going this summer.

3. Last night consisted of a total of eleven hours sleep. I've been told my my lovely new lodger that I'm turning into "A cat.. More specifically; a dirty Tomcat". Not sure how to take that.

4. My Granddad is fixing up quite well, despite being more of a grumpy sod than usual. This can be put down to the ridiculous amount of Tramadol he's been prescribed and the sheer amount of pain he's in; so we'll let him off for the next few weeks.

Huzzah

I have been an incredibly organised so and so and grabbed myself a brace of tickets for Laura Marling's Royal Albert Hall gig in July. HUZZAH. I'll be popping my two friend's gig cherries by taking them along with me.. What an awesome first gig for them both.

Aaaaaand I've been cordially invited to see Lisa Hannigan in May at the South Bank. I've wanted to see her since watching her doing a live version of 'I Don't Know' in an Irish pub.. Plus, I'll get to catch up with someone who's company I have missed. Double huzzah.

Looking forward to this weekend after a reasonably traumatic weekend with my Granddad in the hospital. Never again do I want to see someone who I love so much in that amount of pain; it was spirit crushing. He's a tough old cookie though and has made a full recovery.. I'm looking forward to seeing him and my family this weekend. Triple huzzah.

Trainspotting

From last night at Reading Station; it made the train being ten minutes late worthwhile.

Bumble Bee

Saw my first bumble bee of the year this morning and it put an enormous smile across my face. Coupled with the happiest bus driver ever known in the existence of man, the glorious sunshine and a decent day at work has resulted in a bloody good mood this evening.

I myself have been and am going to be a busy busy bumble bee. This week's plans (in addition to lovely but hectic week at work) include a visit to the school I work with, a leaving do in Reading on Thursday, a pub quiz in honour of the charity I work for on Friday, a night out with my old work colleagues (also on Friday), Saturday in Henley with my friends and their kids followed by my parent's 30th wedding anniversary celebrations and then the Reading Half Marathon on Sunday followed by a comedy event in Bramley in the evening. And breathe.

Things are moving swiftly with my departure to Reading; hopefully I'll be there by the summer. We're also moving office at work and I am likely to have the joint responsibility of ensuring "staff engagement" (third sector bollocks talk for making sure the staff are happy) is excellent throughout the whole process. To be honest I'm more concerned about the new furniture I want to get for my flat than the bloody colour of the staff room, but hey ho it keeps them happy.

The idea of the music festival was incredibly well received by all and I'm starting on the networking and hobnobbing that goes with this type of event... I'm really not good at that shit, but alas, I shall learn as the reward massively outweighs the burden.

Spring

Spring is in the air and in my step.

Latitude

Whilst undertaking some research; I have just spotted the 2012 Latitude Festival... Which is give or take a few acts, has my dream line up; with the lovely lovely Laura, Elbow, Metronomy, Paul Weller, Tim Minchin and M83 being the highlights. Although I'm only familiar with three or so names; the poetry tent is a mega bonus and is something which I'd like to include in our soiree next year.

Always remember..

A poke in the eye is better than a packet of giblets.*

(*Drunken advice from my friend Swanny. Can't argue with that.)

Reality

Having discussed the idea of a "fantasy festival" (which is a festival of your own creation with your ultimate line up of musicians / comedians / performers) to many friends; I'm going to try to make it partially a reality.

The Forbury Gardens is a wonderful space in the centre of Reading town. It is also; in my humble opinion the perfect venue for a small-scale, one day festival of music, art and comedy next summer. This will be a festival in Reading, created by the people of Reading, for the people of Reading. All the acts will have an affiliation with Reading and the surrounding area. The proceeds of which will go to Reading charities; especially the one which employs me. I have just had this idea, so I've no idea how they'll feel about this. What has to be considered is that we're currently preparing for four days of work on a short film based around a group of Elvis impersonators (the original idea of making a Zombie slasher film didn't sit well with our Trustees)... So, it's a pretty safe bet that this isn't too far fetched.

Being in possession of a cheery and positive disposition can occasionally lead to great disappointment; but  it also invokes a fuck-it-this-can-be-done spirit and high aspirations. This will work.