Everything is going to be OK

Or is it? Walter is a hopelessly depressed man.

It might not have hit the cinema like other big films but it makes you think and feel, and you will empathise with one of the topics, characters or all of them. As is the case for me.

"This is a picture of Walter Black, who had to become a beaver, who had to become a father, so that one day this might just be a picture of Walter Black." (The Beaver, 2011)

Lost in Time and Space

I have witnessed a lot of leaf fall in my transient lifestyle, the smell of the leaves in the Autumn - returns. Where have they all gone? From kids playing in them to grown ups mulching them, where have all the leaves gone, where has the time gone? I used to do that, play. Because we won't be here for long, why don't we do more with our time that's got our feet strapped under the pc desk. Can't we live on like the compost and geology we stand on? Nobody cares and nobody dares to care. What are we...Where are we...why are we... locked in our little worlds, as ant workers to the grind, foraging for others, failing for ourselves.

Beautiful People

Beautiful People are every where whether in music, ghost or place.

Beautiful People are found in Beautiful places (normally?) How stereo typed.
They are Everywhere.

Chris Brown's version

Reculver - Castle Remnants, last weekend.




Dunorlan Park, Tunbridge Wells, this weekend.


River Stour, Sandwich, Kent, last weekend.


Canterbury February 2007, post winter suddenly it was warm and sunny!

The Day of God - Sunday

I accidentally said this and realised it was a mix up on a Bible story yesterday.

An eye for an eye,
A tooth for a tooth,
A plank of wood,
For the spec in my eye.

I have to question if I should have swapped 'my' for 'your' in the last sentence.

Naturally Obscure

Eternal Sunshine of a Photographers Mind,

What? You ask. That's not what the film title is.

Extra Terrestrial Living Spaces

The Life and Times of...

Photon Composers

Multi Tacetted Unbenign Constructors of the Superfluous

No, I don't think that last one works somehow.
How does a multiple person or instrument not taking part be malignant and construct something for what is beyond or no longer necessary. Hmm, help.

For something that is provided or once loved can continue if the,

"Academic Excursions in to the mystery of human behaviour, disciplined by the practical application of his own deductions" (Le Carre, Call for the Dead)

enables the past and present to join together.

The flamboyant cheese could not be resisted, but in the end the mice had made eliptical shapes of disproportionate sizes, leaving a Jenga puzzle conundrum.

I had to unload the random phrases somewhere.
Huh, "the multi tacetted unbenign constructors of the superfluous", what ever next.

Gold Standards

You tell me what to do,
yet you don't like it.

My work is my life,
like you expect it.

The kitty is empty,
but you're still calling.

Your gold standard,
is not mine.

So why do you expect me to work at your level
when I don't understand,
nor have the time.

The noise is too much,
you work with it as such,
but it's always there,
just when I'm there.

Phoning, toning,
always moaning, roaming and dam well homing,
I still don't get,
the rest of it.

Business done,
you've had your fun,
now I have a long list to run.

Nothing personal,
just get it done,
goodbye.

*

My gold standard,
is an act of perfectionism,
but it's never going to be
your perfectionism.

The outcome is required,
the time is over,
but overtime is what's required,
even still the end result,
must be defined.

Gold standards, long days,
hard work are just not good enough.
One hundred and ten percent given all the time,
but no time to think,
because the time to think has been governed,
by the need to do everything at top speed,
where thinking is a virtue,
and doing is a need,
where time is lack
and burning out,
just like the energy to get back on track.

Music and Words: Musically Repetitive

When I mentioned I'd be doing Repetitive Music stuff, I didn't realise just how annoying it was going to be. (More fool me, I knew it was going to be annoying when I started out) I may not actually link you to anything for even the first then again, if you don't here it then I can't make you forever remember dreading it.

I'm sure somewhere someone likes this, because for what I can tell they've become relatively successful person and the music is being used in adverts even if it's been remixed by ANR. So whose seen the BT Ads? This track might help Rachel Goodrich Light Bulb (ANR)
Now forgive me, because whilst it's actually quietly catchy, I decided to hunt down the original, well I think it's the original, appears somebody decided to make a competition for best video. Whole other story, ja. Now do you see what I mean, it's one of those pieces of music which glues to your head, making you wish you never heard it, everytime you here it you'll either remember the exact thing it relates too or the place you were, erh...nothing worse.

Claire Maguire: Ain't Nobody

Without being too contrived "here is my escape". Well that's what she says. Thankfully rest assured that big boot is coming down to the ground to relinquish us and let our hair down.
Something much more emotional is going on here, I found two if not three worlds coliding in one when I saw this. Photograph similarities to other band videos (see the black sails in Pink Floyd's High Hopes), illusions of still shots with surreal to scary plausabilities just lingering on the chair and the "Anonymous" looking guy stood over a dark mountain range. Still, the heart felt urge to go out and join her in the middle of nowhere reigns on



with a wonderful flash of lightning through the clip.







But of course the underlying factor being the Breakage version is just a pain in you head, thump de thump de thump thump. Acting like you want a headache, you will have a headache from this one.

Although in fairness, Faithless Insomnia could be seen like that too - I'm sure I saw a german film once with this track used in it, because all I ever remember from that movie is this weird drug fuelled party, strobe lighting, fluorescent shafts, dark corners and drunken people. Well that's at least what springs to mind, "I can't get no sleep." (I'm not surprised.)

Now you might wonder how I jump to Paula Seling for this, she was on Eurovision a couple of years back and whilst she didn't win, it was a good piece. Lena won it for Germany that year with Satellite but Paula stayed in mind far longer with Playing With Fire. Satellite is both annoying and enjoyable because it's upbeat but so is Playing with Fire until you find Paula and Ovi added some harmonies and more real instrumental pieces with the Piano making it better. For todays music is so electronically created.

So I'll leave you with Musically distracting, musically emotional and realistic to the human ear. We should all be wanting music that's not so glued to the mainstream, lead by our noses, even if the synthesier sounds are better than they were years ago.
I Feel Free Paula Seling, certainly a good mix of everything we've touched on today. Let the sun go down and the last of the days heat lift, BBQ smells in the background and friends all around with the possibibities of the future opening up around you as you stand up high, viewing the beautiful scenery for miles around - even if it's in the city.

Everyone has a piece of music which takes them straight back to a moment they had. Make it an enjoyable one.

Music and Words: Musically Reminding

As times gone, on so my musically capabilities have decreased. I spend what time I have with either classical or modern music (eclectic listening I have) trying to re write the score on my eye lids. THe years gone by when I could nigh on do that, I'm not pitch perfect, but some members of my family have been.

RE-writing a score in front of my eye lids isn't the only thing, it's challenging or gripping in a specific way. THis is what I want to get to, today - Scala and Kolacny Brothers - Everlong (Foo Fighters orginal).

MUsic has a number of elements, seven categories: Dynamics, Timbre, Tempo, Structure, Pitch, texture, silence and genre. ALthough these I'm sure are a new version (like the the old and new Lords Prayer) re written for modern times. Maybe that's my memory playing tricks.

Still, listening intently, music which will utomatically take you back to a certain place, even to an exact hour in your life. This is not exactly the birth of your neew born, but it equates a similar edge, you know exactly what happened and everything around you said and done.
Christmas Eve, 2009, 6am, Snow falling and driving from Manchester to London: Karl Jenkins - Requiem - Grey

BY 2.17 you get the warmth of the woodwind and brass coming together, whilst the percussion shuffle carries on gradually building...entering a new phrase at 3.07 bringing you in and surrounding you. Not too distantly the tenor Saxophone solo over the rest, harmonised with the choir. THe succession continuing of peaceful, certainty, accomplishments, changing keys again and again to show off across the hill tops your success before realising the full rounded shape in both major and minor changes to up lift you. So much for grey, most certainly colourful.

Even if it is classical-Romantic (not by era) but by style. Todays popular culture, similar staves and stances can be found. Harmonies from within and without. Multiple versions of the next exist, the original by Anna Ternheim What Have I Done, and a party version set by Familjen. The words most certainly sticking to you, letter by letter.

Anna has a soft approach, notably having the Quiet Night music on Wallander, and excelling in a numberof Genre's

Next time Musically Repetitive, to take us across the likes of Claire Maguire & Paula Seling, imagery of old and new bands, culture politics and what maybe annoying sounds but gradually taking another layer off that stone heart you placed on the side whilst slaving over the stove. Certainly for ending the frost.

Music and Words: Advert Animals

I've decided to break down the next entry into little bits becuase it's just easier on you and me. I saw it mentioned that bitesize chunks work.

The overall theme is Music and Words, Ludovico Einaudi Primavera

Music and Words which distract us, remind us and tell us to hold on, to remember to embrace. Togetherness: By Orange

Today I'm basing it on Advert animals.

Have you noticed just how many animals and cuddly toys are on our TV's?

I recall seeing the Blue Bear "Inner Self" for a well known Yogurt years ago. Where you should look after your outer and inner self.

And then I realised there are a lot of these creatures around these days.
Cup a Soup - "Hugs in a Mug", of a fast paced blue (again) thing, it can only be described as a thing, see the advert, coming to give you a hug as you drink your soup. Can you imagine seeing this thing in real life?

To put a fine point on it here are all the others I can think of:
Birds Eye - Polar Bear
Foxes Biscuits - Panda
PG Tips - Monkey
Car Insurance - The Meerkats
Cravendale - Cat's
and many a pet food directly for pets

How many more adverts, do you know of that use creature comforts to sell to your soft side? Not just trying to clamber under your bedsheets with a cuddly toy but with words of something we can all relate too, all become emotionally attached too and quietly laugh at for it's honestly truthful way of pulling the heart strings.

It doesn't stop here, it turns out the big film makers have been doing the self same thing too...

Frozen Foods: By Birdseye

So I will come back to the theme in a more detailed variety, this one is just a getting started entry. The next one is going to be Musically Reminding.

Two Names, one person, my other life.

I was wandering the net as you do, and found out I could look up where my surname comes from, it's eerliy close to my real life but its not me.

To begin with I was not born in 1966 or in Derby but here goes:

Thomas was born in Derby in 1966. He moved to Huddersfield in 1992. Achieved a 2:1 in Business and Management at Canterbury Christ Church University.

Not my course but my old uni.

Thomas' mum Margaret seperated from his dad Felipe back in 1986. ... has two brothers Victor and Lyle and a sister Pat. ... auntie Marcella was a professional snooker player .

No one called Margaret in my family knowingly, I wasn't born until after 1986, I have one brother none of those names, and nobody plays snooker.

Thomas works for WH Smiths as a advertising advisor. There is little Thomas who likes more than fishing. Thomas married his wife Violet in 1997. Thomas' favourite film is The jazz singer, favourite song is Inner smile Thomas has always wanted to travel to Malta.

I don't work for Smiths, I'm not marrried and don't have kids or anyone that close, I enjoy Jazz but haven't seen The Jazz Singer, nor do I know the Inner Smile.

I have been to Malta and a close friend came from Malta.

This was all under my offical name. I do not use my passport name to it's full extent, I don't like them. I keep myself short and tidy and to the point, my other names were not found on the webpage.

For further details about yourself that's probably not yourself but getting close to ancestory, go to Research my Name

In the words of the Two Ronnies:

"So it's a good night from me,
and it's a good night from him,
Good night."

You wouldn't want to miss a moment

It's been a while since I was last in, I've been meaning to write for ages about different stuff, here I've finally found a cause.

Earlier this week I was listening in to my usual late night radio of Something Understood, whilst the articles may go beyond my comprehension late at night, the music is somewhat relaxing normally. Not sure however of this weeks Brian Eno Ambient 4 On Land.

I've been working hard, harder than ever to bring a project into line and on time the last few months.I've moved to a Kent Town, all too well known for it's old spring, beautiful walks and commons, and well you couldn't leave except for the high rate of busy bussle that gets me down every single day with the persistent we must rush here there and everywhere.



Tonight however, was different, the mist was coming in or the cloud was coming down, it was warm and a little muggy. Dusk was setting in when I got off the train. I met the thick wet air. Clingy and pushy air. The street lights eerily just coming on and the cars too far away turning the corner up ahead of the path leading between the park field and the housing. Looking over the old metal fencing, painted all of a few years ago, the sheep grazing.

I knew tonight was different, I was free, I understood, had enlightenment of my project and had seen the reason to continue on without really seeing the tigers in the pit or my sudden death from workaholism, which I'm not allowed to do, but forced into.

Gradually, making my way home from the train station I'm casting back on things I once knew, looking at the train stations on the way home as we pass through each one, imagining how life has changed over the last hundred years from people on push bikes with top hats, and newspaper delivery boys to tonights vending machines with metal chairs. Nothings changed, everythings changed.

Hence, casting back to a time a stood at Stoke station in the creeky late night, I'm visualising life as it was. The old bobby on the beat converted into Transport Enforcement Officers and the like who sit on the trains once in a while. No longer with whistle and coat, flurescent jackets and a casual smile.

Up the path, between the sheep and the road ahead, no one around, just me, to wander and wonder at the changes, the wet plants waiting for another day of sunshine or a cosy form of rain.

They say the towns best when it's wet and I don't think their wrong. It's got a whole other life to it, the different sounds and smells, the light, glstening off the pavement.

The pictures never come out how I want them to in this weather, it's nigh on foggy the mist is set in so hard, you can't hear too far ahead. But you can hear your feet and see the jogger, with her pale blue trousers coming over the road, ready to bounce past you, without a blink of an eye their gone.

It's the experience I think, the experience of being able to look back, sentimental I guess. I've been very sentimental, one of my close friends has gotten married recently and two more on the way. Life is changing, were growing older, and really we are just trying to remain like ourselves from fives years ago, university the time of our lives.

Walking up on to the main road, the faint traffic sound, the odd car, the announcement that your not alone but certainly out of the way. It's getting late. Somewhere, people are curled up at home, but you're out and about. Down the winding road, a flash back to driving in the worst christmas eve snow in a generation - Manchester to London - leaving at the crack of dawn - literally 6am - taking it easy and learning the route again with new conditions.

It's an experience you see. I might go on about fieldwork and enjoying it, I do, but it may not be just about the fieldwork itself, it's the going out to do something, that's why I like walking, it's why being on top of Moorland collecting weather data and standing on an old glacial till is one thing but viewing the surroundings and understanding them is so different. (Never forgetting the extreme Remembrance Day cold of Dungeness, sitting and counting beach pebbles - an eternity at the time but my, what a memory now). Just to peruse, just like seeing the sheep on the footpath is an experience. Meanwhile you're there to take back the aesthetic visual, feeling, hearing, there all influencing.

That's why I had the courage to randomly read the newspaper left behind on the train and I found an advert for walking in the Lakes 4 Lakes 3 days, that's quite a mission. I might do it. I know of one I want to visit, all on my own, because it's reputable for always being misty, damp and slightly out of kilter, a lack of tourists, makes you suddend feel like your in the wilderness, and for once I felt that coming home tonight again. I've found a point of enjoyable randomness where I don't know what's coming but it's happening. The imagination has to do the rest, otherwise it's all too much to cope with.

The disappearing red lights of a small car into the mist, so distant you can't hear it, but you know that when they've gone you've got this huge road to yourself, its not late anybody could be around, but I've been given this experience and no one else could have had it. Maybe it's the dusky light, maybe it's the damp warmth with the cold to touch plants, maybe it's the fact that it's the Kent weather in general. Who know's I want more, I always like the inbetween times, not day or night, not hot or cold, not dry or wet. It doesn't happen much, but when it does it's a winner.

Quiet Night - Anna Ternheim
To Be Gone - Anna Ternheim

Tick Tick Tick

So well timed are these things. The dam bugs are everywhere.
Tick Tick, the clock goes,
gradually taking life step by step in a methodical ritual. Time passing constantly, the past increasingly long, the future, increasingly, short.

The clicking sound of time marching on so I've heard. Who said that "time marches on"?
It's sucked out of you gradually, the need to find a reason. When you...well.

Somewhere between the blood sucking and the time ticking, the need to find a reason to season the measly, becuase all I find is the life being sucked out day by day.

"The moon is down, I have not heard the clock" Fleance in Macbeth, Shakespeare. Act 2 Scene 1.

Just because

Just because we can look up and out,
we think we can look back and not hurt.

Just because we are here now,
doesn't mean we haven't caused the damage.

Just because you want to be free,
you can't mean you want to be alone.

Just because we have come this far,
the trail's lit up for you to go back.

Just because I said I'd go,
didn't mean you had to go.

Just because you thought you'd dare,
I didn't know I was playing.

Just because we are here,
doesn't mean it's too late,
we are here.

Just because...just because.

Ever feel you're being stared at

Having a bad moment?
Yeah so am I, sometimes it is easier to not write.
Hence lack of writing, something says exhaustion is to blame.

So much has happened in the last two-three weeks but I cannot for the life of me work out what has happened or how to unravel it all.

Is this a bad sign or what!

In the meantime a friend showed me this funny clip of the Voca People from planet Voca 'from somewhere behind the sun'. Also something else light hearted for the mind when understrain, I saw this on the Cinema which was even more powerful in that cinematic way: Cats with Opposing Thumbs.

Is it the heat, the rain or just the lack of sleep. I'm gone mad, totally mad.

We're travelling too fast, I need to slow down and yet I know I have to work harder, longer and faster or I may lose everything.

"Gee's how did you get there so quick!"

"What what, I'd like my breakfast too".

You see, friend for life.

The Unknown Factor of Life and ...

Do you hear the Ringing?

Cartoon Stock

A sure sign of Tinitus self misdiagnosis, but then its double entendre has to be time is nearing the end.
Going back to a an article about an Angel in the sky...I've begun to hear the music playing. Someone else has taken the Conductor's Wand and with a more powerful voice begun writing new music inside my head.

I suspect the concoction of pain killers and hayfever tablets with the weather changes has something to do with this. If it isn't it's more likely to do with the fact I found out about the Voca People from the Planet Voca, my that's an extra-ordinary musical performance from a highly original 'band'.

The question is do you hear the ringing? Well, connected with the Angels yet another addition I have found of Angels. And to the story too, the losing of ones soul:

Mist (Nebel) Orchestrations.

When in time we are ready to leave, the plug is pulled. Everyday, the wheels turn, the motors squeezed a little further, someone old and new comes past and yet no one wants to stop by.

I fear I have lost me

"Somewhere out there the real me exists, but this pretence I currently hold, is just an exaggeration of one scope. My softer suttleties are bruised and whatever I do are not repairing, everytime one step forwards, two steps back. I could be shouting from the skies and still be drowned out."

I smell the Division Bell coming, I see the awkward faces, I hear the unsaid thoughts. I am no longer meant to be, the struggle, the downfall, the end is here. Three months tops, it turns out no one is willing to provide a genuine warmth, all I see is cold breaths and murky scars even the genuine ones of olde have abandoned.* It's time to sail this ship one last time.

Foreclosure does not exist in humanity only as a commodity, I am not a commodity and therefore the end.

Why is all I have left to ask, why do I have to abandon ship.

The Tree of Life

*When accidental contact of people you knew from another life time occurs what is the appropriate thing to do? It turns out on this occasion, all that's happened is a direct line of interrogation. Once accompllished, you are forgotten. The aim: to prove they're better than you and throw you back in the heap and this from a lady of the church.

Contingencies

Chile

Contingent according to the wonders of online dictionaries has an adjective directly to the weather. As in Our Plans are contingent on the weather. It also holds characterisitcs to liable, chance and accidental.

Within the world of business, contingencies are made incase something goes wrong, it is said to be the step undertaken before you go into crisis management. What wonderful phrases businesses come up with. More nonsense when in actual fact what it comes down to is planning, yes in plain old english, this is planning and organisation.

Contingent by Right

I have noticed that the weather has been a little off beat for 2011 and so lots of contingencies have been happening.

From March Winds in May to April Showers in June this weather holds a grip over something we cannot escape.

The crops lack growth, so much for now...what about the winter?
The rivers are flowing, yet the ground is bone dry in places.
There's vegetables with a poison floating around Europe.
Yet no one's contigency has yet found the source.
In fact contingency went to crisis planning.

Farmer's have had it rough, gardens are borderline, recording code blue.
The contingent, the plan is not to stand and scream, but get on with it.
Those who talk cannot do it, those who can deal with it, get on with it.
When we want to plan our days and it is wet, we put on a water proof and carry on.

Whilst we may complain about the rain, the places we go to take on a whole new attitude and life of there own. Every little hint of conversation and weather, plays a part in how we feel that day. That's why I must go out and have some fun whilst it is wet. Or the photos will never produce, the jobs will never be done and then you might ask, after all that sunshine, are we just going to sit inside and look out the window waiting for the break in the cloud? No, there's more to be done than sit and wait with these intermittent showers.

Crisis -> Contingent-> Planning-> Organisation-> Time Management->

Happy Completed Tasks.

For Writer's Island #23: Contingent

Ah there's never a good time but now is the time

You know, there's never a good time, ja, it is rarely a good time to actually do this stuff. But looking too deeply into the past has a way of springing life back into the old horse. And when your down, there's only one thing to do, look back, reassess and push harder, because what doesn't break you makes you stronger- well that's the line anyway. For every -ve there is a +ve to balance it. That's how I've bent these photos, to calculate the positive and the negative. It's about finding a good balance to produce the desired effect.

One way or another we'll catch it if not by hook then by crook. And then we'll serve it with fish, as there are no wildboar.

Here's a series of photos, I want you to study them, find your way through time. Once they're on paper they'll age even faster, but remain immortal.





And so we must keep on going. Down this road, wherever it goes. And do you know what's best about this road, you might not recognise it but you sure know it inside out, in the back of you mind.

Gott weiss ich will kein Engel sein

(God know's I wouldn't want to be an Angel)
Rammstein Lyrics: Engel

Michael Maier

"The last thing I expected to find was you on the beach front. I've spent ages, literally years walking this earth wondering 'where are you and who are you'"

...your the one who always pops up unwittingly to whisper in my ear that something awaits my final destination, oh is this, is this, have I finally arrived...

"tell me you're for real. Why do you stand with you back to me, I've seen you before, no need to hide. Play, let me listen..."

"No, I don't want to play, this is where I get my peace and quiet, where the world talks back to me, I need to heal too", she says remaining firmly placed on the sand sinking in further. "We rest, the cello, rests, I rest so you see the sea refreshes me."

"Do you want me to go?"
"Just don't come too close, like you I need time off, a person with a gift, a guide to make all of it worthwhile. This is no job for the faint hearted, it's all giving, can you give your whole time without receiving anything in return except for seeing your charges continue to fail. Were not perfect either, that's why I'm here."

I'll just, just sit here and...wait, with you" I said, sheepishly trailing off. Your so happy following around, looking after your charges...why the pain...I wish I could just hold you, make you feel better, it's been too long since our last duet, was it never enough or too much, you haven't lost just need more time...it's very peaceful here...the clouds...the clouds are moving fast, too fast for us, time is washing away like the stones are dragged out to sea, we should go in.
"Yes we should go in, but this is not only the end of the line for you, but for me too, after this I may not have any more charges, you're my last, I've not kept to my good past enough. (Pausing) Come here, just watch and listen. You couldn't begin to imagine the reasons...I'll be a fallen Angel soon, maybe I should just stay here with you."

"We can't go on living in a dream, I'm getting old too."
"Quite, I'm not, well I'm older but I'm the same as when we first met...times past, the clouds we'll keep us company with music from the ocean. Then when I'm clipped I'll play the cello for my own self, look the clouds, they are softening up, it's time, they're going to sleep...I won't be going back".

And with a feigned smile of it'll be alright, they stood and watched.

"They live behind the sunshine
separated from us, infinitely far
they must cling to the stars (very tightly)
so they don't fall from the sky."

"Only once the clouds have gone to sleep can you see us in the sky
we are afraid and alone."

Rammstein Engel - Scala and Kolacny Brothers version

For Writer's Island 2011, No.22.

Smile for me, you are not in the picture.

"NO PHOTOGRAPHY HERE, THANK YOU"

The General Public, Happy, sad, mad, right wing, left wing, extremist. Untidy, OCD, in a mess, depressed and much much more.

Tell me what is it that makes us keep going, once we've seen it, why do we want to go back. We talk of enjoyment, yet no one is happy enough. To be happy you must after all be sad.

I've spent a month door knocking, my job is 'a public nuisance' I get to invade you privacy for what is a fraction of your life for some details to help your future. Yet you shut the door in my face. Where some blunty refuse to acknowledge I'm helping, narrow minded or jarred by the politics of data loss and security.

Whatever happened to helping people, why do some people not care about helping others, whilst some find me, "an inquisitor" the most bogus and horrible person around. I am not a salesman trying to find sell you you lecky, or a Jehovah withness, nor do I attempt to make you hand over money for a charitable fund. All I want is five minutes to ask "how do you live your life?" Is it so hard a question you won't give a stranger a chance.

Tell me how do you make new friends when you don't let strangers into your life, is your security so justifiable that I cannot impregnate the fortress you daren't yeald. Could I offer you a cup of coffee or do you think I've poisoned that and your garden plant a looked at on the way up too?

As for the rest of you, why do you not care at all and casually assume that I am who I say I am. Be thankful I've got clearance and I am who I say I am. I'm not here as my alter ego or my pseudonym. Never the twine meet, be lucky you haven't met any of them, I come as your friend and you turn me away, I am not god, but I expect you to respect me not hurt me.

If you had met anyone else, they might have been less kind, and I don't talk of any alter ego's. I am me all the time, but upset me and you will receive my wrath. Who I am in one place is not the same person in another. Oh, where are we going, have you left me to rot, why have you decided I should be here at all? Quite, when did I sign up to this life, this miserable little place. Everyday I wonder, is the last? Have I finally taken my last step?

Yet whose to thank, thankless parents, friends, unconducive, uncohesive communities, why don't you just shut the door in my face and I'll rot on your doorstep from the inside out. Get through my armour and I'm all yours like cats go for treats. But where were you, and why can't I find my companion, has she gone, is she here, was it you who shut the door in my face?

In one column, people are good, maybe a little OTT, but generally nice to chat too whoever they are and you can get along.
Yet so many people let the side down. You are the thick ones who just won't let me help, you are so closed to the world, that your personal, arrogant thoughts are egotistical and outrageous to the rest of us. Yet you claim to be intelligent, I wonder, what does it mean- intelligent - you and I are from the same stock, so how comes you find my skills distasteful. Why do you walk around prancing a line that is untrue, bending the information to suit your needs, you distrust me and won't help me. Yet you'll happily argue with me. If your so positive in your views, why don't you just get rid of me.

You see it's not me whose weak, it's you, you're the one questioning my job status, I am after all entering your life for just five minutes, taking all the essential details to how you live. You are scared, running, in fear of what I might see or remember. I don't make judgements on anything, I accept you for you...and you...you write me off with just a glance, you don't care to help me help you.

And then you complain that the world is unjust and doesn't help you or your community. Yet the help is staring you right in your face. I enable the details to make it better, all you have to do is give them to me. Are you so bigoted, you want things fixed by me but you won't give me the information I require to do the job?

I should just lie down in the dark and shoot myself because I'm never going to win. Just get off your high horse and get involved, instead of yelling at your TV about all the problems, come fix them, don't be a social nitwit. Get in with it.

Smile for me, you are not in the picture. You are just one of many people, a snap shot of life, helping the future, past is past its unreliable and the future is too without your help, let me in, for you may never get the chance again. Life's too short, is five minutes so hard.

Are we all just the same?

Where's Wally The Guardian Newspaper 1/06/2010

Enlightenment

...I think that's the right word.

Humanity actually exists out there.
Doing door step interviews and meeting strangers for five or ten minutes through them, allows a quick free bond without harm. Its good to see that people are actually normal, because, I find so many people unnormal in day to day life, I wonder how anything works. So it's quite nice to beable to breathe a sigh of relief that, the world goes round, and we can all have a laugh and a joke about absolutely nothing. (Even if in the small print there are a few people who do not perform to this normality were all different) the rest of us can go on with encouragement that their isn't anyone to fear from talking to.

I thought this would encourage you all to believe the next step is worth living for, the amount of times I've seen Relate in its many formats from behind the scenes, knowing friends who work in the sector, to being involved, that support can work wonders. So here is a little taste to help put life in perspective:Wonderland.

When we were here

This is much of an impasse as it is another turning on this dreadfully long junction, which appears so normal these days.

I realised that it's been a little while since I last ventured on here, lookinng back not as far as I thought. Only the 11th April, yet another month gone, god this is downbeat, I was meant to be uplifting and welcoming, light hearted.

So whilst I've been off here, whats happened:

The Easter break, where time could stand still by water, flowing past, forever on it's journey,

Derwent Resevoir (Peak District)

Derwent Footpath (Peak District)

Wetton, Peak District (Thors Cave looks out on to)

A Royal Wedding,

A new but very temporary job,

More voluntary work,

I've lost my voice...and instead of what many know to be a mix of accents and dialects in my voice, I now have this standard husky, professional yet personal tact. Distilling to me because I always enjoy listening to voices with a good depth, accent and complete tongue twist. Voices you wish you had been given, now I've broken mine I sense I've found a new layer, a soft quietness with air, I wonder if its working on the girls yet? Hmm, I wish.

Jobs, tasks and endless exercises: paperwork has come and gone, its still stacked high. No amount of intray time & sorting wants to clear it out.

I have gone from happiness through to dam right chilling,

Made for the hills,

Wished for more cycling time, again and again I wish I could glide on wheels like the professionals, the essential hum of rubber and sprocket set on tarmac- I've only ever heard it once for sure.

Watched a spring "heatwave" and now a down pour in three nights,

Been to The Abingdon Air Show:

Vulcan Bomber on a fly past (poor quality on what could have been an excellent photo)

Done people's gardening,

seen a large fire engulfing a Forest, what makes an arsonist?

For sake ye not,
do not tread passsed my door,
do not pass go,
I command you to stop,
You horrible people.
And yet, I know you will not.

But as ever the listener:
John Ronson On : The Fine Line Between Good and Bad.
This is just a poor edition of what I was hoping for, if you really wish to listen.

I didn't have the time nor the power of language to write free hand for 31 days straight on Writer's Island. I'm more adhoc, as soon as I here a phrase that would be good to write I've forgotten it, and if it be, yes I'm boring.
So I'm around and the seasons have changed. But like I said, I'm unlikely to be back until probably the 11th June. Something says my voice is going to be broken for a lot longer still, that or I will permanently sound like you couldn't make life worse, or, more to the point, like an operator reading the same lines repetitively even though right this instant it is good...good? Ja, gut, fine, brilliant...

...I'm working, I'm applying for jobs, I'm volunteering, I'm having fun, but its costing me and not to forget that you have not seen my long list of tasks.

And when it all stops, there is nothing.
An the emptiness fills the air clinging, my god how I long for a stiff drink.


P.s. The Italian's had predicted an Earthquake for today,
Well if you are at all propelled by predictions the Spanish got a biggish one today
Although the geographies are way short of scientifically correct (spatially, tectonically speaking between the countries). But my, that was close enough, and the damage, the poor souls, not to mention how it's one month on (11th March) from the Japanese Earthquake.

Past is Future, the wheel of time

Saturday, a bursting hot day,
hardly a whisper of cloud around, enough to notice the skies not completely blue in places,
blue still blue.

Late into the evening, late dinner awaiting the arrival of family and friends, the instant urge to be out amongst fields, crops two foot high already, the late sunshine, a light breeze and enough to stir the hayfever,
ah-chu.

No need for boots, just put some footwear on that grips the bumpy ground along the footpath.

It's all good, two friends walking their dogs, no care or worry it's a beautiful evening.

Up over the hill and into a chalk grassland site, rare for the area now (the sign says), farmers taking over the land from once it was. The rabbits burrowing in, the coppiced stumps unchanged in a month, the hedgerows trimmed.

The blue skies seen from all around across the hills, everything is green, the hedgerows blossom whitening, one harvested field alone, golden brown, reflecting the remaining sunshine on the opposite hillside.

The sheep will always be on the site nearby, generations of sheep gone by and coming.
People will come and go, time will continue on as blue skies come and go.
(But the sheep will remain the same.)

One day history will tell our story, pictures of our past,
your childhood brushing past with each step along the footpath and around the site,
a knowing you'll be with those people already gone after months and years.

A welling up of those lost after only weeks or minutes of knowing:
a secret knowledge on the doorstep between two strangers,
a twinkle, a smile...a look, infectious,
no more.

*

Memories running in the parks at age five, with parents screaming back to be careful,
all abliss to the warmth in the day, the trees to hide behind,
friends, brothers and sisters to squeeze, chase,
the sand for castles from earlier gradually dissolving under waves at the beach,
the moat around the parents on the beach towel filling up,
trying to make the day last longer.

*

The sunshine dropping and making one last punch of brightness into the sky, bright but cool,
increasing shades for the day to close on, take the route home down the hillside
where hundreds have trodden before,
where the train line once went,
where the married couples once walked,
where the horses once pulled carriages,
now just a path, girls and boys used to giggle and play hide and seek,
where it all remains still and silent...

the hedgeline trimmed by you after years of knowing it,
the hedgeline as much a friend as anyone else,
trees standing on,
(every inch known of them by your childhood and now grown skills,
they knowing every inch of the land around here,)
to out live you and your children,

summer sunshine to give warmth and happiness,
sunshine of the past, sunshine for now,
sunshine...in view, for miles around across the fields,
to continue the journey,
and a question of where that twinkle, that smile is now,
to complete the future
to grow a new hedgeline with you for next time,
with the trees holding the keys to the past, looking on,
awaiting the next set of kids games, giggles, memories and regrown hedgerows.

On down the hill back in to the quietened village,
scented smells of cooking food,
no one around, just abandoned,
stillness in the air,
emptiness from within and from without, comforting,
the blue sky dissolving with the heat for the return to the present,
the childhood living on in the shadows,
no one to hold on to, but a star somewhere up in the air,
awaiting the future,
never to hold with you.

Codex: The King of Limbs, Radiohead

Hiding in Plain Sight

This is not just a story, it's interactive.

Saint-Sean Danse Macabre, used in the timeless soft mystery drama, or that's what he saw. Reflections from an inner world, an illusion of what could be possible but not at all unless some form of magic was truly ongoing. As when found by Jonathon Creek the magical trick unveils the truth, or that's what Angelo thought anyway. Using the knowledge of the Magicians Circus to inform and re-enact what had happened in real life. For, what was being unveiled in reality was a crime, an unsolvable mystery, that the crime had to have been an accident in the first place or better still covered up without anyone else knowing. The key to the 'crime' per se was the location, space and time of an accomplished illusion.

Angelo, looked on in amazement, contented that Mr Creek would solve the riddle, what Angelo didn't know at the time was that he had begun a long path. A path to where he was now, sat in a room with his few personal belongings wrapped up in boxes. He was stone cold, ten years earlier he'd been happy at home, now he thought he was home. Instead he was allocated a room in a large castle styled building, set in the depths of the north European Countries, bordering the Belgium-Netherlands landscape. Alone in his room, a window in the door showed frequent other residents walking past. After all it was a professionally designed place to look after the residents. Residents who had long since lost their faculties, or so that's what the staff said.

"Time stood still with his fingers in his ears, didn't want to hear it from another bunch of hollow men."
...excommunicated, excommunicated.
(Tears for Fears, Cold)

"We think he needs a little push...don't you? After all, if he doesn't recognise his problems he'll never be able to leave, and for such a young person that would be a shame. He's developed a nostalgia of sorts, seems to think he's living in about 1960 or something, to him the Cold War's still going on."

"Yes I noticed that, I believe we may have found the reason to that, many of his attributes are copies from his surroundings, he's lost his self. His self is an amalgamation of fictional characters, induced to be more realistic by real life events. He's been corrupted and overwhelmed by it all."

"Hmm, well I wouldn't normally recommend this, but pour a cup of coffee for him, make sure it's hot, I want to see how he reacts, he's always talking coffee I want to know why. He's so entangled in the cob web he's made for himself, he's either ended up lost in his own imagination far from where we can reach him or he's cut off and dumbed down. I wouldn't be surprised after all the things he's seen if his minds turned to mush, he will recover I'm sure, a few years perhaps.
He was doing so well CV's glowing, work, home, lifestyle perfect, yet somewhere something appears to have caught up with him, like his past has decided to come back to life, everybody he's ever known he's written off and left no evidence of them, he thinks they're out to get him."

"Do you think he trust's any one, we can't let him go he could do all kinds of damage to the public, this softly softly person seems to hold terrors in his mind, he could snap. Whatever his conspiracy it's finally caught up with him, he has produced his own prophecy" Scala and Kolacny Brothers, Self Full filling Prophecy, 2008.

"Yes, speaking of which I'm off to see that choral choir tonight he mentioned they actually sound pretty good."

*

Angelo sat in his empty desk, well to him it was cluttered full of his life's work, folders stacked high on racks, certainly not in there boxes in the other corner. Still unprepared to unpack, believing this new home would want to get rid of him fairly soon. He stared out the window, high above the small town, "the house on the hillside" where only the foolish broke in and those who went out were Over The Top - OTT literally for climbing the walls inside the house where no medication or therapy could help and for those out over the brick wall surrounding the grounds.

Two pigeons sat facing the window on the electric wire watching him. Merrily cleaning themselves on the wet, grey day. The fine drizzle, yet another function of what was held within the folders, he picked one off his table top and started reading. Yet he knew it was invisible, what he was reading was what he could remember in his head, his old room re-invisaged as if he'd gone back. The pigeons stared on, plucking and cleaning themselves. Angelo excepted they knew what he knew. His calculations were a new advancement in cloud seeding. Weather modification was never particularly proven to work, but under this, his numbers had suddenly become a necessary fact, it worked and he could modify every cloud from a fluffy white to a force ten gale.

Instead of handing over the information to the Met Office, he'd hidden it and tested it himself. with a bunch of local enthusiasts. "The pigeons know it worked", he said to a local offical collecting field data. But no one wanted to listen, after all the side effects were disastrous. It wasn't just modifying the weather, it was modifying the birds, they were now "living Angels". All birds have wings, but these had extra wings...nobody in his project would believe him, everytime he'd run a test he'd seen a readjustment in bird behaviour, predator to prey level, pigeons acting on mass, Red Kite's and Sparrow Hawks with regional power across the country, Golden Eagles standing tall over all. Angelo had reinvented animal communication and authority. Angel's by name and by flare.

*

All that was wanted was a way to run away. But working on our inhibitions their was no way out. What ever it was, the escape route from this nightmare was blocked, one car chase after another had to follow, running and running in an attempt to escape against the hunters driving, he could remember all the stories his friends told him, everything and nothing was real, the laws of physics, the positions of the stars and yet he didn't want to believe it. What he had was his own self belief and that wasn't enough, his friends yeah his friends ousted him, made to feel unwanted and now in downfall, most certainly cut off, they called it excommunication, as if the church would never let him in.

Reality had been separated, he no longer knew what was real or fake and the crossing of the line had formed, where once he spoke of truth and knowledge, he now crossed into a deep digression, not knowing how to escape, with no feedback from his surroundings to work on, with an even greater level of mistrust, he went on to describe works of fiction as fact and robbed his world of a reality check. Angelo had become too self contained, without an escape plan and without cause. His downfall from a proficient work force, with German Efficiency, Scottish hardiness and the mind like one of the greats of history, but for all that, dashed, something like Inception had beaten him to it or was that just a paradox or just a conspiracy of his fictional reality he believed (Inception, 2010)? His own core beliefs destroyed by his surroundings, that were themselves untrue and implanted by his own mind, yet to him somebody else was pulling the strings, a form of mis-information. "Find the common enemy to stop the rise of the animals", he remembered saying it so many times, public and private, the animals were coming to take control, alas the information brushed aside as mad. Yet he could see it happening everywhere.

*

"This is not a game to be playing with, I might be chewing on the best strawberries and raspberries in the area, but the juices flow from them, bright red like chopped tomatoes. It's not something I wish to understand, but I know now that my perception on reality is much different to everybody elses", Angelo said.

"Yes, you could say that. We think you've had a bit of a traumatic experience, something to push your mind over the threshold, everyone has a limit, I suggest some rest bite, try and reduce the panic attacks and take some of these pills, they will stabalise the imagination from running extra wild. I'd be careful what you do, but self discipline to control the mind is important, what do you think?"
"You think I'm delusional?"
"No not at all, but if you let your imagination run too wild, who's to say where you might end up. We wouldn't want any more damage to come to you."
"Really?"
"You don't believe us."
"No, you tell me I'm mad and I tell you that I've found a good answer, your're just trying to hold me at my will!"
"Ah, Angelo, there is no one holding you back. There is no conspiracy, we've been watching, you talk to the animals like they are humans, as if they are giving you a full conversation. You know that's not possible."
"You know that's not possible, have you heard yourself, I've found a way."
"Someone's, oh, someone's been trying to make you believe you can, and now you think you can, you've been programmed, were here to help. Also, I'd recommend you didn't carry on eating those Strawberries, god knows why they're extra red this year...can't be good for you."

*

(Muse, Uprising) Paperless walls covered in newspaper articles, photographs of people and messages, notes from old folders strewn across the floor. Back in the old house, the pigeons sat chattering away. Where once an impossible fact lay, now the animals began to sense order. Plotting their paths, Angelo could see no way out, they had started reading his notes, weather modification had made a gentetic change, a new beginning, the pigeons looked on at Angelo, lauging beguilly at him, altering the common rule, the human race would soon peril to the Eagle's command, the Hawks would quite literally rule the roost. Angelo sat in dismay as day by day his reality became more and more real until finally the resident staff could no longer help. Angelo sided with the Eagle's command structure, from the inside they grew up to be bigger and bolder until nothing was left but to reconcile with his destruction of the human species, sucked in to his own parallel universe he lost all that could have been. Eventually he would find his way out, or so everyone hoped (Take That, Reach Out- Stranger than Fiction version).

(Adele, Rolling in the Deep)

We should always look after each other, it's a form of politeness.