"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.