1: TO BOT OR NOT TO BOT?
Off ~ always kill all habits once in a while.. I'm hopeless at developmental ideas akin to that: credos and maxims but maybe it'll change your life. Everybody aspires to change somebody's or even everybody's life these days. It's trending, viral, a downward fucking spiral... just hoodoo-voodoo guru business, bandwagonesque marketing and let's face it - not a stack more.
Anyway I'm off. Not switched on.
Just this wee chat with you: a stranger... no judgement, drumrolls or pre-planned scripts.
Go for an amble, take a gamble, there are some very cool people in the trees: some climb up them and yelp foolishly for fun, anarchy in urban arboretums: who can blame them. Other monkeys, humans, marooned aliens whatever the hell we really are, they simply hang adjacent to the barber's shop. He's Dave. He don't care. People still get perms, highlights and bobs, he employs a lady stylist for that and skins people quicker than the teen weed freaks outside. They are stoned, smashed, wasted, pie-eyed but even they just want to say hello. So many of us just want to say hello.
It's a poxy lonely uptight planet sometimes...
HELLO. My laptop, desktop, phone?
NAH. No media: hankering for occupation, cyber-disciples, sex, true romance or validation.
Phuket.
Solitude.
Quiet time.
Tranquillity. Restorative peace.
Kick back, travel in your mind or...
better still ...
hold the hand of nature: the greatest author of all.
No music spinning. A silent piece, a still vignette. Creaks, but no freaks, blowers, divas or axemen breaking through my speakers. The soundtrack for now was not written. Even the town’s nightly cast: whizzing, zooming, ducking and diving, funky, skunky fist-pumping bass-jumping boy-racers and ambling rambling sozzled sots have all crashed into their respective pits.
I fell asleep in a bath once. No water. Ultra-cold to the touch. Pure white cast-iron. Fatigued, unable to sleep, noticeably shaking – a freezing foetal wreck.
Curled up, huddling myself- a guy stumbles in for a piss, holding onto thin air and bumping into cabinets and walls.
A second take: brusque and beyond inebriated. What the... Who the… What are you doing down there? His anger subsides swiftly and he heads off mumbling a garbled drunken Celtic ballad.
An early bath for me? No! Pace and trust my friends. Bonds and rapports. I’m a pro. A skint broken artist: a forged warrior running on fumes and incessant remixed flashbacks and madness but I will try, because that’s all any human can do… We can try, we must try, trying is key.
“You don’t get the whole shebang in one hit. Nah! I’m not nuts. Fling the words now, sling it and take a hike or stay loyal and revel in the spoils: wild, placid, beautiful, rugged, sagacious, entertaining surreal lived characters and tales.”
Looking out the window.. I remember that as a kid.
Looking for my Mum whenever she took tears,
her death-wish and red wine for a walk.
Sobbing.
All of us sobbing.
I started philosophy young... Even then: four, five, six, seven ~ I was thinking:
If it happens, if she does do it - do I understand? Yeah, I understand!
And Shelly she'd take her little black doll for a walk to the shops with her troubled escaping mind and empty purse. It was all very sad: tears, many tears and the tremor and shake of deep deep thought and grotesque surrealism that was out of context: belonged elsewhere: should not really belong anywhere.
IMAGINE NOTHINGNESS ~ IMAGINE NOTHINGNESS
Far too much for tiny formative minds that longed to laugh and stop jumping.
Sam was not yet born. Bab I call him. Bab. I always will.
The voices and conspiracies never holidayed.
Even during holidays they sneaked uninvited
into the baggage and on to the carousel hellbent
on causing havoc.
Ornaments, bottles, foul vitriol and abuse
flew across our lives daily.
We waited shaking for unscheduled weird flights:
redbreasts, cheap vin rouge, dinners, sick warped pledges
of love for us and each other:
each word and proclamation and wail for forgiveness
a twisted travesty of narcissism, dishonesty, accusations,
vitriolic put-downs and terrifying tirades.
You'll never be as good as him.
You'll never be as nice as him.
Why don't you throw yourself under a bus?
Throw myself under a bus?
Could I remain rocksteady?
Cage of broken hearts, flipping flippers
at the ready ..
Pinball neurons
Speechthought .. whizzy
Lone-wolf
World too dizzy
Compassion,
Kindness Fades away
... Knives out
stumblemumble away
Imperfections Embrace at-one-ment
Look in my mind No data sent!
Imperfections Embrace at-one-ment
Look in my mind No data sent!
Imperfections Embrace at-one-ment
Look in my mind No data sent!