Members
australia
i was praying that you and me might end up together
Detroit, MI
There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness. (please note, …
Poems
JDH
Jun 2017
Some introductory food for thought...
"Manufacturing and commercial monopolies owe their origin not to a tendency imminent in a capitalist economy but to governmental interventionist policy directed against free trade and laissez faire."
- Ludwig Von Mises
"Bureaucracies are inherently antidemocratic. Bureaucrats derive their power from their position in the structure, not from their relations with the people they are supposed to serve. The people are not masters of the bureaucracy, but its clients."
- Alan Keyes
The European Union as the New Eastern Bloc?
The Eastern Trading Bloc of the Soviet system had it's origins in the tail end of the Second World war, where, through the suppression of the whereabouts of Kremlin manipulation, had purported itself as democratic agreement, initially giving itself the appearance of a 'bourgeois democracy' as the Soviets called it. Though, inherently was, and clearly became an imperial establishment of control from the Soviet Bureaucracy. Likewise, the European Union, when originally advertised to the nations of Europe was propped up in a similarly unassuming manner, despite having been previously discussed and having the concepts of such a union already organised further back into 1948 at the Hague Conference. The parallels of such such unions (Eastern/Euro) are that they garnered the consent of the public through their foundation being merely upon an economic transnational policy, and not a political one, and therefor their basic parallels are that of deceit.
The Eastern Bloc formed what was essentially a symbiosis of the state and the economy, something that naturally would be inherent under a Communist regime. However, the European Union, too, follows a similar reciprocal foundation, for it binds the state and economy, removing the separation of powers by Capitalistic enterprise, and instead, Centralises governance in a more oligarchical, corporate and bureaucratic apparatus. Operating through a complex arrangement of multitudinous committees and boards, whose members form a body of non-elected representatives. Essentially the European Union, on the guise of an economic market, has formed a centralised, quasi-private parliament akin to the Soviet style hegemony of the Eastern Bloc, and through soft-intimidation and misinformation, keeps it's members bonded. Lest it be forgotten that the Union is allegedly one of 'free trade', yet, when discourse begins to brew of leaving, as it did in Britain, why are we met with threats of economic disability and ostracization? That shows more the signs of a protection racket; of bureaucratic gangsterism, than it does of a voluntary cooperation of national markets.
The unification of Germany and the amalgamation of the European continent?
In a more predictive sense, the European Union shares similarities in it's unifying policies, as it it does to the unification of the German states circa 1871. Spearheaded during the Bismarckian era of the late nineteenth century, Germany, well within a period of two decades transformed from a collection of trading states, to a fully amalgamated nation under Prussian dominated rule, but by what means did this occur, and in what ways does the unification of Germany share similarities to modern Europe?
Of course, the chief processes of German unification lied in the economy, the political structure and culture, the political structure I have already covered. The establishment of a newly amalgamated economy among the German States was created through the breaking down of trade barriers between the previously independent states, one of which ways in doing so was the introduction of the single German currency (the Mark) along with a centralised banking system that allowed for both monetary control by the state and the removal of currency exchange between regions. Likewise the European Union brought with it the introduction of a common European currency (the Euro) and too, a European Central Bank. The new Germany also extended its unification to the creation of a common German culture that evoked a sense of nationalism, for instance, the establishment of a new national anthem and German military, to be paraded with pride. Too, the standardisation of the school system to create a state of coherent socialisation among the German generations. What we see with the European Union is also the creation of a common European national anthem and a cooperative European military (though a centralised European military is still developing) and through policies such as the Bolonga Process, the education system of Europe as a whole has been standardised to the specific image of the European Union, even a single European emergency number (112) is under proposition.
It is said that history repeats itself, and perhaps what we are living through today is the amalgamation of the European states as transpired nearly 150 years ago within central Europe. And that the non-representative, self appointing parliament of the European Union, resembles almost a kind of bureaucratic Kaiserreich; a kind of Prussian hegemony of the modern day.
- a short essay by JDH
"Manufacturing and commercial monopolies owe their origin not to a tendency imminent in a capitalist economy but to governmental interventionist policy directed against free trade and laissez faire."
- Ludwig Von Mises
"Bureaucracies are inherently antidemocratic. Bureaucrats derive their power from their position in the structure, not from their relations with the people they are supposed to serve. The people are not masters of the bureaucracy, but its clients."
- Alan Keyes
The European Union as the New Eastern Bloc?
The Eastern Trading Bloc of the Soviet system had it's origins in the tail end of the Second World war, where, through the suppression of the whereabouts of Kremlin manipulation, had purported itself as democratic agreement, initially giving itself the appearance of a 'bourgeois democracy' as the Soviets called it. Though, inherently was, and clearly became an imperial establishment of control from the Soviet Bureaucracy. Likewise, the European Union, when originally advertised to the nations of Europe was propped up in a similarly unassuming manner, despite having been previously discussed and having the concepts of such a union already organised further back into 1948 at the Hague Conference. The parallels of such such unions (Eastern/Euro) are that they garnered the consent of the public through their foundation being merely upon an economic transnational policy, and not a political one, and therefor their basic parallels are that of deceit.
The Eastern Bloc formed what was essentially a symbiosis of the state and the economy, something that naturally would be inherent under a Communist regime. However, the European Union, too, follows a similar reciprocal foundation, for it binds the state and economy, removing the separation of powers by Capitalistic enterprise, and instead, Centralises governance in a more oligarchical, corporate and bureaucratic apparatus. Operating through a complex arrangement of multitudinous committees and boards, whose members form a body of non-elected representatives. Essentially the European Union, on the guise of an economic market, has formed a centralised, quasi-private parliament akin to the Soviet style hegemony of the Eastern Bloc, and through soft-intimidation and misinformation, keeps it's members bonded. Lest it be forgotten that the Union is allegedly one of 'free trade', yet, when discourse begins to brew of leaving, as it did in Britain, why are we met with threats of economic disability and ostracization? That shows more the signs of a protection racket; of bureaucratic gangsterism, than it does of a voluntary cooperation of national markets.
The unification of Germany and the amalgamation of the European continent?
In a more predictive sense, the European Union shares similarities in it's unifying policies, as it it does to the unification of the German states circa 1871. Spearheaded during the Bismarckian era of the late nineteenth century, Germany, well within a period of two decades transformed from a collection of trading states, to a fully amalgamated nation under Prussian dominated rule, but by what means did this occur, and in what ways does the unification of Germany share similarities to modern Europe?
Of course, the chief processes of German unification lied in the economy, the political structure and culture, the political structure I have already covered. The establishment of a newly amalgamated economy among the German States was created through the breaking down of trade barriers between the previously independent states, one of which ways in doing so was the introduction of the single German currency (the Mark) along with a centralised banking system that allowed for both monetary control by the state and the removal of currency exchange between regions. Likewise the European Union brought with it the introduction of a common European currency (the Euro) and too, a European Central Bank. The new Germany also extended its unification to the creation of a common German culture that evoked a sense of nationalism, for instance, the establishment of a new national anthem and German military, to be paraded with pride. Too, the standardisation of the school system to create a state of coherent socialisation among the German generations. What we see with the European Union is also the creation of a common European national anthem and a cooperative European military (though a centralised European military is still developing) and through policies such as the Bolonga Process, the education system of Europe as a whole has been standardised to the specific image of the European Union, even a single European emergency number (112) is under proposition.
It is said that history repeats itself, and perhaps what we are living through today is the amalgamation of the European states as transpired nearly 150 years ago within central Europe. And that the non-representative, self appointing parliament of the European Union, resembles almost a kind of bureaucratic Kaiserreich; a kind of Prussian hegemony of the modern day.
- a short essay by JDH
Pearson Bolt Jul 2017
(bloc)k
Pearson Bolt
Jul 2017
a ****** of crows gathers
over Hamburg, carrion carrying on
with business as usual.
feeding on the festered flesh
of a gentrified populace.
in private jets coughing carbon
they fly from the west on turbine wings,
engines screaming as they dive towards a nation
secured by razor-wound walls
and barb-wire borders.
they pitched a battle in Germany,
convinced that austerity
would ******* the resistance
and give justification to premeditated violence.
but the tables have turned on the thieves again.
we are the end result of your failed policies,
globalization has destroyed our homes.
if your cabal rallies like a kettle of vultures,
you will do so behind closed doors,
cowering in your fortress' halls.
you shall not pass. watch as the power shifts
like the melting gears of torched BMWs.
we will tear the vestiges of your authority down.
we will black out your surveillance cameras,
smash your windows, and block your limos. no pasaran.
flee, while you can still run. this city belongs
to the wild ones, a black bloc, thousands strong,
dancing amidst the tear gas, tossing molotovs.
marching to liberty's sturdy drum,
equal in our solidarity song.
over Hamburg, carrion carrying on
with business as usual.
feeding on the festered flesh
of a gentrified populace.
in private jets coughing carbon
they fly from the west on turbine wings,
engines screaming as they dive towards a nation
secured by razor-wound walls
and barb-wire borders.
they pitched a battle in Germany,
convinced that austerity
would ******* the resistance
and give justification to premeditated violence.
but the tables have turned on the thieves again.
we are the end result of your failed policies,
globalization has destroyed our homes.
if your cabal rallies like a kettle of vultures,
you will do so behind closed doors,
cowering in your fortress' halls.
you shall not pass. watch as the power shifts
like the melting gears of torched BMWs.
we will tear the vestiges of your authority down.
we will black out your surveillance cameras,
smash your windows, and block your limos. no pasaran.
flee, while you can still run. this city belongs
to the wild ones, a black bloc, thousands strong,
dancing amidst the tear gas, tossing molotovs.
marching to liberty's sturdy drum,
equal in our solidarity song.
Solidarity to the wild ones in Hamburg.
https://crimethinc.com/2017/07/05/announcing-continuous-live-coverage-of-the-g20-in-hamburg-with-an-update-from-the-clashes-of-july-4
https://crimethinc.com/2017/07/05/announcing-continuous-live-coverage-of-the-g20-in-hamburg-with-an-update-from-the-clashes-of-july-4
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
Road of Revelation
Mateuš Conrad
Oct 2016
it has been exactly since ~3p.m.
yesterday...
through to
3p.m. today: that's 24 hours +
4 o'clock, 5 o'clock rock,
6 o'clock,
7, 8, 9
10, 11 and the upcoming twelve
24 + 9 + excess passing the 36th hour...
oh this is just target practice -
what used to be
serotonin has become adrenaline:
spawning cobweb shadows with
a mere arm-hair aligned with an itch:
i say to my cohabitants -
i'm too poor to rent an apartment
with my contemporaries,
and i can't be bothered to look cool
for 10 years... before the money starts
coming in... a day before a tongue spoke:
and see you in 20 years...
and see you in 30 years...
the people born prior to 1975
and after 1969 came out to earn
£57,000 a year... while those born
after 1979 and before 1985 had a wealth
*** of £27,000...
who are the landlords?
quick digression, i love how the idea
of exiting the bloc (it used to be designated
to the eastern bloc, now anything east of Calais
if a bloc... the European bloc -
my my... ain't it love-ly?
they wanted an Australian points system,
so first came the Australian plastic currency,
boy, i was happy, cashing in my first Churchill
miniature that i could dip in baked beans
and use as a spoon) spread beyond the old
stereotype... and the points system?
you know who's smoking the hookah of
panic here?
the freelancers of nationality...
they haven't fitted in...
don't worry... they'll keep you,
but after seeing you they just thought:
once the cheeky chappy, now a chavvy chappy...
we love the E2 dialect, it's hardly Coccers
or bonkers... but after my day
(i'll relate to it in a moment)
i heard to prop'ah Cockneys giving it
all the guv' and n'ah and
what's Kilimanjaro in Cockney slang?
all the Cockneys are living in Essex,
Romford, Chelms and the Essex lads
from Ireland are a bit shy, never talk to
the old people who used to live on
the Isle of Dogs or the Wharf -
East London moved, and i'm in
the thick o' it... you ***...
i'm here,
open ******* spaces and hedgehog counts
to mind... never the next Susie from
Whitechapel doing the runner from Jackie,
and funny that,
the day began during the night,
sober, i tested the idea: if you gonna go
nocturnal, stay sober...
fast... drink coffee in the morning,
and what some proper bollocking
on the box...
i say: revivals never
sounded more like bells, the 1970s
had Patois... the old parle with dread-lock Sam...
i squeeze in a bit of Norse
and hey presto... Ahmed's your uncle...
'cos we all like a bit of
way-hey banter, the: back in the day
when the 1966 squad was best known
for West 'am...
am i sensing the idea that
i'm licking off the prop'ah beef burger 'ere?
what the **** rhymes
with Kilimanjaro?
wait! got this one:
apples & pears - stairs...
you gyro?
no! wait... the two Cockneys
weren't from south London,
this ain't Peck'am talk... this is proper grub...
jar squared: verb, meaning?
i know my neighbour, heard him
lecturing his wife over the wall about
the diminishing concept of family in the "west",
to me that's
the Cockneys meant by guv'nah:
aw right der geezer,
stop that fidgety: don't be late tomorrow,
let a man eat his plums and wear his trousers...
i swear: the only good cinema these days
is English cinema...
i said! the only good cinema
these days is English cinema...
if i didn't watch
we **** the old way during the night,
after spending my day as i did (i'll get onto it,
hold your submarines)
i would have pricked my ears
on the two Cockneys next door
at 4p.m. finishing some job...
but given the "guv'nah's" attitude: 'aving
a laugh at coming early tomorrow, if at all.
my day?
i wished i could say i woke up
early...
the entire spectrum
of sunrise...
epileptic shock from the sun
after smoking a cigarette at 5a.m. when
all the constellations where out...
not enough sleep,
as the Russians say: no good to live but to
not have seen snow.
it shivers with enough
hours under your belt...
i'd love those
Soviet torture chambers of sleep malnutrition...
gents? when the ***** and the cards and cigarettes?
i'm currently the most loathed
person in America... which technically makes me
more than simply unemployed...
anyway...
cut my hair... two millimetres off the helmet...
off the cranium... not crew cut, not skin on side
and some ***-fluff on top...
in the night, when the moon is bright,
my two millimetres of hair look like skin...
oi! Skinners! the shame would have really been
to have protruding ears...
come to think of it,
i love the contorts of my shadow more than
the body my shadow disdains...
i decided to visit my old school
after that...
...............................
do you know the feeling of getting onto a bus
when you having been on any other form
of transportation (other than your legs)
for a few months? surreal...
and even that's a bad way to describe it...
this is where words simply fizzle out...
they just did the white rabbit
trick and you're felt with nothing else to
do but squeeze into the top-hat and hope
that some other magician will pull you out
rather than another: white rabbit.
so the 499 from my house
up to Romford (sunny! glorious day!
shirt, sleeves rolled up,
denim trousers, navy suede shoes,
azure shirt, headphones, bus ticket,
wallet, packet of smokes, and the ride -
smile all you want - when you smash a sports
car you don't have the view of a dozen
horrified passengers there with you
to practice your ultimate Buddha gimmick -
Ching-Chong Eyed and smiling)
oh yeah, the insurance... huh?
off at Romford central, and onto the 86
courier from Bangladesh to Ilford...
what did i miss in the list above?
ah... three copies of poetic optometry...
written by? moi, n'est pas? oh come on,
let's not get the ruler out: mangetout and manage trois...
(only fuel is horses)
the 86 is a double decker, the 499 isn't...
sun in my eyes behind the glass the enhanced star
gleamed: what privilege -
by day the star
by night the star in
a mirror that's the moon -
selfish helium
giggling into a hydrogen Hindenburg fury!
or that's what the scientists say...
how they worked it out, i'll never know...
but apparently the sun
is a H-He something or other...
H because of atom bombs,
and He because we giggle like idiots when we see
it: never the thirsty horse in cowboy movies.
got off at Seven Kings...
in between school girls eyeing everyone and everything...
just my luck... schoolchildren...
everywhere on the bus...
just there...
and also just nowhere...
so i got off at Seven Kings and went into my
old catholic school...
waited at the reception for a good
5 minutes (good to know they're still teaching
people manners with regards to the uttermost
productive necessity of bureaucrats)
- i asked about my old English
teacher: does Dr... er... does Mr. Thomas,
er, does Mr. Bunce (Thomas) still work here?
yes, he does.
you see, i'm a former pupil of this school
and i wondered if i could have a meeting with him.
oh, that's impossible, he's currently teaching.
Kafka... note this in your afterlife...
well... in that case, could i leave him a message?
oh sure, just write your name and your contact details
and he'll get in touch with you.
well... i need a bit more than a scrap of paper,
can i have a notepad?
sure.
so i took the pen
and the notepad and sat in this grand refurbished hall
of the school that used to remind me
of chemistry labs stinking of old wood and sulphur,
of the old ways... of being beaten and Pink Floyd
escapism and all the hippy crap...
what a grand place this has become...
it's no longer known as C. P. Catholic School...
but the plus version: C. P. Academy...
but you still walk into the plus surroundings and there
are still pamphlets written by Father Ted
about *our Lord and Saviour christ Jesus...
or Hey! Zeus! in Spanish... same ****...
different cover...
but i was well dressed in my
Indian summer wear that's Indian summer:
English September and October...
i'd move the calendar up a bit...
get the kids off anti-depressants...
anyway, i had my three copies
of the "first edition", try tell that with the internet
breathing down your neck... it doesn't, matter...
but i did write him a lovely note:
unchaining me from the straitjacket of grammar!
i wrote from what year i graduated
2002 (g.c.s.e.) or 2004 (a-level),
and blah blah and one more blah
later walked back to the reception
and asked for a rubber-band...
then i bundled the whole thing together
and asked if she could give it to him...
of course, she replied.
p.s. if you don't mind,
Mr. Thomas, you can always shove one of those
copies into the school library...
p.p.s., someone stashed
the book about the Gnostics by some German in
there once... maybe i'm thinking along the same lines.
the journey back?
i walked.
i walked from Seven Kings
to Romford...
taking a stroll
with one hand in my pocket (left)
because holding a cigarette in the other is never
exactly great when it's not doing something...
that's what the pockets are for...
not exactly suited for your wallet... but your hand...
when you're strolling in the green-belt fields
segregating the outer-most London (wannabe
Londoners / Eastenders) and the Essex inheritors
of Cockney... Kilimanjaro?
Kilimanjaro?
me, i don't Essex
either... most of the bankers chose this
district for the scenery, i.e. standing in a field
that isn't a hill or any sort of elevation
and beyond, yonder, the glass shards of their
former institutions...
4.7 miles... not bad...
a stroll... and that's without any food and solely
on coffee and a sleepless night...
a butterfly fluttering along the way (only one)
and a fresh ripe auburn conker lying beneath
an oak tree (also, only one)...
but what hit me was walking back...
it was truly like reading the book of revelation...
13:7... all the way from Seven Kings through to
the Romford: the street vendors, the bookies,
the Muhammedian car dealers...
the bewildered ones walking into
mosques, Sikh temples...
one man cleaning the patio
entrance to a church from weeds...
cheap Kentucky chicken from America
(if you think, that they don't synthesise
the meat in cat food and call it tuna or beef
but rather use actual meat... you're grossly mistaken,
it was on the news...
they are already
capable to synthesise meat...
they do it in the perfume industry,
they're doing it in the food industry -
a childhood memory of asking why they were
smearing lipstick on the frogs they caught...
they replied: they burn easier...
and they did... paint a frog lipstick
pink and boy... that's a French marshmallow, right there)...
but if you ever walk that stretch of road...
revelation 13:7...
i'd like to see the Evangelists wriggle out
of that one... oh sure...
i treat religious television like some meathead
might watch football... it's game on after 5 minutes...
but anyway... that was my day...
all 36 or so hours of it... how was yours?
g'day!
yesterday...
through to
3p.m. today: that's 24 hours +
4 o'clock, 5 o'clock rock,
6 o'clock,
7, 8, 9
10, 11 and the upcoming twelve
24 + 9 + excess passing the 36th hour...
oh this is just target practice -
what used to be
serotonin has become adrenaline:
spawning cobweb shadows with
a mere arm-hair aligned with an itch:
i say to my cohabitants -
i'm too poor to rent an apartment
with my contemporaries,
and i can't be bothered to look cool
for 10 years... before the money starts
coming in... a day before a tongue spoke:
and see you in 20 years...
and see you in 30 years...
the people born prior to 1975
and after 1969 came out to earn
£57,000 a year... while those born
after 1979 and before 1985 had a wealth
*** of £27,000...
who are the landlords?
quick digression, i love how the idea
of exiting the bloc (it used to be designated
to the eastern bloc, now anything east of Calais
if a bloc... the European bloc -
my my... ain't it love-ly?
they wanted an Australian points system,
so first came the Australian plastic currency,
boy, i was happy, cashing in my first Churchill
miniature that i could dip in baked beans
and use as a spoon) spread beyond the old
stereotype... and the points system?
you know who's smoking the hookah of
panic here?
the freelancers of nationality...
they haven't fitted in...
don't worry... they'll keep you,
but after seeing you they just thought:
once the cheeky chappy, now a chavvy chappy...
we love the E2 dialect, it's hardly Coccers
or bonkers... but after my day
(i'll relate to it in a moment)
i heard to prop'ah Cockneys giving it
all the guv' and n'ah and
what's Kilimanjaro in Cockney slang?
all the Cockneys are living in Essex,
Romford, Chelms and the Essex lads
from Ireland are a bit shy, never talk to
the old people who used to live on
the Isle of Dogs or the Wharf -
East London moved, and i'm in
the thick o' it... you ***...
i'm here,
open ******* spaces and hedgehog counts
to mind... never the next Susie from
Whitechapel doing the runner from Jackie,
and funny that,
the day began during the night,
sober, i tested the idea: if you gonna go
nocturnal, stay sober...
fast... drink coffee in the morning,
and what some proper bollocking
on the box...
i say: revivals never
sounded more like bells, the 1970s
had Patois... the old parle with dread-lock Sam...
i squeeze in a bit of Norse
and hey presto... Ahmed's your uncle...
'cos we all like a bit of
way-hey banter, the: back in the day
when the 1966 squad was best known
for West 'am...
am i sensing the idea that
i'm licking off the prop'ah beef burger 'ere?
what the **** rhymes
with Kilimanjaro?
wait! got this one:
apples & pears - stairs...
you gyro?
no! wait... the two Cockneys
weren't from south London,
this ain't Peck'am talk... this is proper grub...
jar squared: verb, meaning?
i know my neighbour, heard him
lecturing his wife over the wall about
the diminishing concept of family in the "west",
to me that's
the Cockneys meant by guv'nah:
aw right der geezer,
stop that fidgety: don't be late tomorrow,
let a man eat his plums and wear his trousers...
i swear: the only good cinema these days
is English cinema...
i said! the only good cinema
these days is English cinema...
if i didn't watch
we **** the old way during the night,
after spending my day as i did (i'll get onto it,
hold your submarines)
i would have pricked my ears
on the two Cockneys next door
at 4p.m. finishing some job...
but given the "guv'nah's" attitude: 'aving
a laugh at coming early tomorrow, if at all.
my day?
i wished i could say i woke up
early...
the entire spectrum
of sunrise...
epileptic shock from the sun
after smoking a cigarette at 5a.m. when
all the constellations where out...
not enough sleep,
as the Russians say: no good to live but to
not have seen snow.
it shivers with enough
hours under your belt...
i'd love those
Soviet torture chambers of sleep malnutrition...
gents? when the ***** and the cards and cigarettes?
i'm currently the most loathed
person in America... which technically makes me
more than simply unemployed...
anyway...
cut my hair... two millimetres off the helmet...
off the cranium... not crew cut, not skin on side
and some ***-fluff on top...
in the night, when the moon is bright,
my two millimetres of hair look like skin...
oi! Skinners! the shame would have really been
to have protruding ears...
come to think of it,
i love the contorts of my shadow more than
the body my shadow disdains...
i decided to visit my old school
after that...
...............................
do you know the feeling of getting onto a bus
when you having been on any other form
of transportation (other than your legs)
for a few months? surreal...
and even that's a bad way to describe it...
this is where words simply fizzle out...
they just did the white rabbit
trick and you're felt with nothing else to
do but squeeze into the top-hat and hope
that some other magician will pull you out
rather than another: white rabbit.
so the 499 from my house
up to Romford (sunny! glorious day!
shirt, sleeves rolled up,
denim trousers, navy suede shoes,
azure shirt, headphones, bus ticket,
wallet, packet of smokes, and the ride -
smile all you want - when you smash a sports
car you don't have the view of a dozen
horrified passengers there with you
to practice your ultimate Buddha gimmick -
Ching-Chong Eyed and smiling)
oh yeah, the insurance... huh?
off at Romford central, and onto the 86
courier from Bangladesh to Ilford...
what did i miss in the list above?
ah... three copies of poetic optometry...
written by? moi, n'est pas? oh come on,
let's not get the ruler out: mangetout and manage trois...
(only fuel is horses)
the 86 is a double decker, the 499 isn't...
sun in my eyes behind the glass the enhanced star
gleamed: what privilege -
by day the star
by night the star in
a mirror that's the moon -
selfish helium
giggling into a hydrogen Hindenburg fury!
or that's what the scientists say...
how they worked it out, i'll never know...
but apparently the sun
is a H-He something or other...
H because of atom bombs,
and He because we giggle like idiots when we see
it: never the thirsty horse in cowboy movies.
got off at Seven Kings...
in between school girls eyeing everyone and everything...
just my luck... schoolchildren...
everywhere on the bus...
just there...
and also just nowhere...
so i got off at Seven Kings and went into my
old catholic school...
waited at the reception for a good
5 minutes (good to know they're still teaching
people manners with regards to the uttermost
productive necessity of bureaucrats)
- i asked about my old English
teacher: does Dr... er... does Mr. Thomas,
er, does Mr. Bunce (Thomas) still work here?
yes, he does.
you see, i'm a former pupil of this school
and i wondered if i could have a meeting with him.
oh, that's impossible, he's currently teaching.
Kafka... note this in your afterlife...
well... in that case, could i leave him a message?
oh sure, just write your name and your contact details
and he'll get in touch with you.
well... i need a bit more than a scrap of paper,
can i have a notepad?
sure.
so i took the pen
and the notepad and sat in this grand refurbished hall
of the school that used to remind me
of chemistry labs stinking of old wood and sulphur,
of the old ways... of being beaten and Pink Floyd
escapism and all the hippy crap...
what a grand place this has become...
it's no longer known as C. P. Catholic School...
but the plus version: C. P. Academy...
but you still walk into the plus surroundings and there
are still pamphlets written by Father Ted
about *our Lord and Saviour christ Jesus...
or Hey! Zeus! in Spanish... same ****...
different cover...
but i was well dressed in my
Indian summer wear that's Indian summer:
English September and October...
i'd move the calendar up a bit...
get the kids off anti-depressants...
anyway, i had my three copies
of the "first edition", try tell that with the internet
breathing down your neck... it doesn't, matter...
but i did write him a lovely note:
unchaining me from the straitjacket of grammar!
i wrote from what year i graduated
2002 (g.c.s.e.) or 2004 (a-level),
and blah blah and one more blah
later walked back to the reception
and asked for a rubber-band...
then i bundled the whole thing together
and asked if she could give it to him...
of course, she replied.
p.s. if you don't mind,
Mr. Thomas, you can always shove one of those
copies into the school library...
p.p.s., someone stashed
the book about the Gnostics by some German in
there once... maybe i'm thinking along the same lines.
the journey back?
i walked.
i walked from Seven Kings
to Romford...
taking a stroll
with one hand in my pocket (left)
because holding a cigarette in the other is never
exactly great when it's not doing something...
that's what the pockets are for...
not exactly suited for your wallet... but your hand...
when you're strolling in the green-belt fields
segregating the outer-most London (wannabe
Londoners / Eastenders) and the Essex inheritors
of Cockney... Kilimanjaro?
Kilimanjaro?
me, i don't Essex
either... most of the bankers chose this
district for the scenery, i.e. standing in a field
that isn't a hill or any sort of elevation
and beyond, yonder, the glass shards of their
former institutions...
4.7 miles... not bad...
a stroll... and that's without any food and solely
on coffee and a sleepless night...
a butterfly fluttering along the way (only one)
and a fresh ripe auburn conker lying beneath
an oak tree (also, only one)...
but what hit me was walking back...
it was truly like reading the book of revelation...
13:7... all the way from Seven Kings through to
the Romford: the street vendors, the bookies,
the Muhammedian car dealers...
the bewildered ones walking into
mosques, Sikh temples...
one man cleaning the patio
entrance to a church from weeds...
cheap Kentucky chicken from America
(if you think, that they don't synthesise
the meat in cat food and call it tuna or beef
but rather use actual meat... you're grossly mistaken,
it was on the news...
they are already
capable to synthesise meat...
they do it in the perfume industry,
they're doing it in the food industry -
a childhood memory of asking why they were
smearing lipstick on the frogs they caught...
they replied: they burn easier...
and they did... paint a frog lipstick
pink and boy... that's a French marshmallow, right there)...
but if you ever walk that stretch of road...
revelation 13:7...
i'd like to see the Evangelists wriggle out
of that one... oh sure...
i treat religious television like some meathead
might watch football... it's game on after 5 minutes...
but anyway... that was my day...
all 36 or so hours of it... how was yours?
g'day!