You only get to do something for the first time once, like watching Fight Club...
Or finding yourself with friends near a gothic looking bridge under a railway line next to a muddy flash flooded river channel slap bang in the centre of a city having a free party and discovering...
It'll never be the same again, not if I go there, the wonder, the amusement, the slipping and sliding around in beautiful clay mud to go for a piss or to take in the sights, the secret sights of Bristol.
Met some great folks, a chance connection that means I could learn how to make fire.
In the traditional sense, not buying a disposable lighter but I could gain a new skill.
I plan to, if I can re-get-over my dislike for the telephone, the stuck feeling.
In that moment, where I have to press the dial button, wait for a reply.
That's the feeling of having no energy, not knowing the outcome.
The way that internally it's the same for me when its you.
I somehow managed to love talking to someone.
I talked too much, because I was nervous.
Or other factors I won't go into here.
The first rule of fight club is:-
You Do NOT Talk About Fight Club.
But back to the reason this has inspired me.
I would like to think that the government were on our side.
Then I remember they allow people to sell us poisons, they allow people to get away with business practises that don't take into account that the bottom line should be humans bodies not profit margins.
I can't go into that again, the product recall strategy, if it costs less to pay a few people off, if it costs less to do the wrong thing rather than the right one, they don't have to bother improving things.
We all breath the shared fuel fume tainted air onboard our holiday flight or whatever your excuse.
For getting into the cabin of an aeroplane and travelling somewhere on our weekends or holidays.
Often I don't mean things as definitely as I state them, I like to draw attention to the extremes of life.
That way when you realise where I'm wrong it doesn't matter, you're already there, at the truth.
I don't like the fact that I know someone reads my blog because it makes me temper what I'm saying.
Makes me self concious, at the same time I love the fact that someone somewhere reads it, whether it's because they are ambulance chasers, waiting for the car crash that my life has been, become, whatever... Voyeurism, a desire to see if there's some value, some diamonds amongst the shit.
So it's a creative issue, must be for a lot of artists maybe that's why they're so fucked up.
I never wanted to fail at things, especially involving others, that way they're not collateral damage.
If I didn't have another go at something I was rubbish at at least I'd know the answer to that.
So funnily enough I went around Saturday night having another go at everything, into sunday, sleep deprived until I get home, a roast dinner being prepared, if I lived alone would I bother? Says something about community, that what we have become is post industrial revolution slobs.
We worked the land, we were of the land, we were the chosen, the few, the survivors.
Of a long line of whatever it is we are, fallen angels, sleeping gods, men, women.
Apes relatives, the genetic experiment of an alien thingamajig, oojameflip.
Nonsense words, gobbledegook, old racial slurs, vibing on mistakes.
Ours of the past, those we will undoubtedly make from now on.
Some of us falling by the wayside, naturally so, unnaturally so.
A Million ways to die in the west, north, east and south of bits.
Spreading across the world as we are because no-one said no.
Except the chinese and those people that sterilised folks before.
You don't use it you lose it, it's been so long I couldn't sign my name.
I don't write with a pen anymore, not very often, ok I exaggerated.
I'm sure I was better at spelling but the machines do it for us now.
Usurping our role how long will it be before they replace us all?
Or we become transhuman? Full of inorganic faux organic bits.
A replacement heart works but without a heart what is a person?
Do they feel the same, without those neurons within their core?
The heart sends more information to the brain than the brain does to the heart.
Pseudo science, spiritual nonsense that made so much sense before and again.
Spirit science, tales of atlantis, toth the atlantean, ancient egypt, nasca lines.
Where is it drawn into the world the real truth for us to find is it there at all?
Are we just rats in a maze, teaching rats to find their way around a maze?
Is that the point, of self discovery, to become god at a later date because.
Because well, because there's only one destination for us as a species?
After all we could destroy ourselves, ravage the planet until it can no longer support life like ours, until we've stretched natures oceans and river bank balances, the ecosystems to a point of no return?
At this rate, rather than be told not to have more than one child and encouraged to think about other forms of life more than whether between you as a couple you think three is a nice number, rather than being brought up to face the ways in which we have already screwed the pooch, damaged ourselves.
No instead of teaching the truth to the young, realising it ourselves, we're blind deaf and dumb.
Literally dumbing ourselves down, brain sized getting smaller since the farming thing we did.
Since we settled in one place, creating all industry, greed, politics, lots of man's inventions.
Womens' too I shouldn't let half of the population off the hook without being fair, equal.
Trodden under foot though and treated like second class citizens even after the blacks got the right to be thought of as people rather than chattels, evolving, fighting for our rights, our own autonomy.
Fighting for everything we've ever had, life itself, and still we puny, petty humans fall in line.
Cos it's easier than stressing ourselves out, because we're lead by fools and evil men.
Many don't think they can make a difference, so like sceptics they never see it.
For me now, meeting people who remember meeting me I feel like Tyler.
Or like the person who became Mr Durden in the film of the title of this blog entry.
I've come a long way and I have all sorts of things to thank for that and blame.
It keeps coming down to the same words I heard over and over like a record.
The perfect storm, Damned if you do, You've made your bed, thoughts.
Pelting me with guilt, survivors guilt for not having tried harder.
In some case for never having tried at all, going through motions, bowel movement.
Riffing now on the urge to see this world fall, the credit card companies buildings.
Like they do in Fight Club, someone takes a stand, maybe misguided, creating chaos but not a loss of life, most people in the developed world would be better off if the system fell apart, ok the stress of the gangs looting, the dwindling food supply, the long term pressure to find another way but yes.
Most would lose a few pounds they put on sitting on their asses doing nothing, literally nothing.
Consuming, food stuff designed to make you want more, designed to give you zero nutrition.
So that your body craves, actual real food, ya know the stuff that doesn't taste as nice.
It's sour, or there's no sweetness, our pallets, grown weak, favouring processed shit.
Unable to taste what our bodies scream out for, stuff that's good for us, to live.
Craving sugar, get a headache when you haven't had some, another when you have?
The best things for us, the greatest medecine is often the most foul tasting, like the truth.
Sometimes we have to go through pain, like childbirth, to create something wonderful, like life.
I wonder at the people who face it, could I, would I, relate to someone nearly dying, more than sex.
Sex is a mini death itself, it's one of the most stressful things you can put your body through.
Well, that's orgasm, that's the physical stress of fucking I'm talking about, taking something.
Giving yourself a present, I'd like to make a distinction, sex is about your cum, pleasure.
Making love is about giving love, giving the other person the time of their life and you?
Well you get yours because that's their goal, not to cum, together, separately, whatever.
We've degenerated into users of toys, don't listen to them, they don't add anything.
They are merely aids to masterbation, whether he's dildoing your clit or not.
Chasing a better cum, a longer orgasm, that fake way they don't look.
They don't look in each others eyes when they fuck, not really.
Because they don't have a connection, they don't love...
Perversion of a beautiful truth, typo was beautifuk.
Could be freudian i'm going with next door keys.
Anyway even if you all knew anyone well enough to be making love as I've described the difference, you'd still wanna fuck because tantra is something Sting does to Trudi Styler and he says he feels like a 20 something at 50 something because of yoga, but that's just another posh expensive catch on fad.
Maybe we're turning a corner, as I suspect things have gotten so bad, some of us are trying what worked before, there have always been bad apples that fell not so far from the tree of life.
In the garden of our past, maybe all fables, myths and legends really are based on a seed.
A small seemingly insignificant part of the story that was true one day in the past.
Driving me to distraction from the monotony of my search for work again.
Claiming from the state, allowing me to become mobile again so...
I have to be grateful for the gesture, for the support, the help.
It's coming to a head and some day, one day soon, yep.
Something gonna happen to make it clear to all.
Not just the canaries like me going out of our tiny minds, with worry for africans who don't have clean running water, they all need to be like us, can I afford to donate £6 $6 to come together with others everywhere who see it, or like me have faced death, faced hell, and heaven and chosen.
I choose to keep on going, to be a mixture of old habits and new ones, trying to change.
Attempting to escape the inertia, I know the feeling, it's like knowing something.
But being unable to express it, like a fading dream, maybe I'm not a canary.
Maybe my desire to go off grid, but use hospitals if necessary actually.
Maybe my feeling that I should be dying maybe younger from a tough but worthy life, that I could be free from the burden of bills, debts, reasons to stay chained to jobs I'm going to hate, to the seconds as they build, when I'm just an employee and I have nothing to do, or something so inane it kills me.
I choose to learn skills useful to a natural human, making fire, stone walling, build a fucking house.
Not spend the rest of my life paying some cunt in a suit for one, with money I earn, to pay back the number they created on a computer when they entered in the details of my death duty, my mortgage.
Funny I always had the notion that I didn't repeat myself, but the themes these days seem familiar.
Familial, aunt in hospital after heart surgery, that will extend her life, so grateful for her family.
To the doctors, even the surgeons who training fighting instinct is to see a body as a machine.
Just spare parts and useless primordial vestigial, aw shucks I was hoping it was festigial.
A festival of moral high ground and low points all on display for us to be drawn to.
It got to the point that I found the core of me, the survival mechanism, the real me?
I don't know but it acts in the best interests of others but thinks about itself, narcissist.
Daft fucker who always felt ugly, having any self respect at all seems like a joke, but this?
Actually resonating between judging others based on their appearance, in public and this?
Is it encoded, is it just me, was I entrained to think this way about lovely human beings?
-
Glad it's raining, it always makes me feel, at this time of year, this weather, like a fungi
Sorry psilocybin semilanceata joke, you had to be there, like our ancestors, who tasted
They got the best bite out of life you could possibly experience, nearly dying each day
Knowing that any type of injury could be life threatening but living like a tiger or lion
Literally unscathed by fear like an animal, literally an animal, knowing our place here
Unable to comprehend, living on instinct, unsentient, not thinking for ourselves only
less selfish, more connected, the rough and the smooth, lives saved by mobile phone
Swings and roundabouts, should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be
trouble, if I stay it will be double, but you've got to let me know, I've got to.
Got to Got to Got to try a little tenderness, now i'm just spouting lyrics
So best to sign off here before I end up paying royalties, oh dear
don't get me started on those who sit atop our great pyramid
the ones who do their best but are the very poster child
the poster boys and girls of the haves who leave us
as have nots, not because we're undesserving
but because for some of us to be poor
some of us have to be rich
that's the conundrum
hear the countdown
snap back t' reality
or whatever this
place is really
a trap of our
own design
a test that
creates
gods
I don't fucking know
all i can do is try to
learn more while
I'm here, give
a little love
when I
can
x
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