devilry and dharma - Diary of a Troubled Mind

hey there!

2006-02-27T12:17:00.000Z

Hey there!!!!!!

Hi to anyone that missed me, as if!

I've been around, keeping an eye on things without getting involved. Why? Time, I've had none spare.
Fatherhood has taken up most of my free moments but now my son is nearing a year and a half my evenings are my own again. I'm going to restructure this blog to represent my deepest, darkest and more amusing thoughts and experiences and create another to account for my more mundane life today. So some stuff will disappear and plenty more will be added.

So while I'm getting on with sorting this all out, think about something for me....................if so many americans believe in intelligent design, why are they so dumb? I don't mean to generalise, but you know what I mean.
nx

p.s fucking spell check won't work so bollocks to that!

The Riddle

2005-03-17T19:46:00.000Z

Before you read this please note that if your a neo conservative bush lover (and I don't mean the green kind) then you probably won't like it. I 'borrowed' this from La Femme Melika so Cheers to her.

President Bush meets with the Queen of England during a state visit.

He asks her, "Your Majesty, How do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give me?"

"Well," says the Queen, "the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people"

Bush frowns, "But how do i know the people around me are really intelligent?"

The Queen takes a sip of tea, "Oh, that's easy. You just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle."

The Queen pushes a button on her intercom. "Please send Tony Blair in here, would you?"

Tony Blair walks into the room. "Yes, my Queen?"

The Queen smiles. "Answer me this, Please, Tony. Your mother and father have a child, it is not your brother and it is not your sister, who is it?"

Without pausing for a moment, Tony Blair answers, "That would be me."

"Yes! Very good," says the Queen.

Bush goes back to the white house to ask Dick Cheney, his vice president the same question.

"Dick, answer this for me. Your mother and father have a child, its not your brother nor your sister, who is it?"

"I'm not sure," says Dick Cheney "Let me get back to you on that one."

Cheney goes to his advisors and asks every one, but none can give him an answer. Finally he ends up in the mens room and recognizes Colin Powell's shoes in the next stall.

Cheney shouts, "Colin! Can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it's not your brother or your sister, who is it?"

Colin Powell yells back, "That's easy, Its me!"

Cheney smiles and says "Thanks!"

Then, Cheney goes back to speak with Bush. "Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle, it's Colin Powell!"

Bush gets up, stomps over to Dick Cheney, and angrily yells into his face, "No You Idiot! Its Tony Blair!"

drugs are bad

2005-03-17T11:48:00.000Z

After the whole 'white lightning' experience I felt a change in my thinking, something's somehow now felt kind of unimportant, a lot of those teenage hang ups about being part of the 'in crowd', 'getting a career' and 'getting laid' just didn't seem to matter. I became an overnight hippie in my mind, I started to really appreciate all things green (esp marijuana ) and all things living. I was more concerned with others being happy and found pleasure in emotion. Still today I kind of well up a little when I see someone overcome with emotion. It has an uncontrollable effect on me, maybe acid brings you closer to your feminine side?

Whatever, it certainly has an effect on you for the rest of your life, I've not met a narrow minded tripper, and yet most narrow minded people have never tried anything. They listen to the 'spin' and take it as truth and fact. 'Drugs are bad'.................No they are not! People are bad!

Take Marijuana for instance, it was freely available and yet hardly abused, the hemp trade was one of the largest in the world. Once the buds had been harvested and mostly used for medicinal purposes, the rest of the plant was used to make everything from rope and clothes to diesel oil and food to soap and cosmetics without the use of any man made chemicals which fuck with nature. That's where it all went wrong, in 1937 Dupont patented a process to make plastics / nylon and paper from wood pulp, both in direct competition to Hemp. Both of these processes used man made chemicals to which Dupont owned the legal rights.

Using immoral and underhand methods Dupont set about getting rid of the competition. Dupont's financial backer and main beneficiary of the success of Dupont was Andrew Mellon. Mellon served as President Hoover's Secretary of the Treasury. Mellon appointed Harry Anslinger (a relative) to be the head of the Bureau of Narcotics (1931).
The U.S government then set about villanising marijuana. In 1936 "Scientific American" published an article stating marijuana makes smokers vicious, fight and kill. "Popular Science Monthly" stated "a horrible crime: look first at the marijuana smokers"
One contrary report in the "Literary Digest" linked criminal violence to alcohol, this was largely ignored.
Hearst's newspapers, which dominated the American market, provided further "documentation" that minorities such as "mexicans, niggars, and chinamen" were responsible for most of the crimes in American society. This association between marijuana use and "deviant" minorities, coupled with the depression which led to a distrust of "foreign influences" helped steamroll the act to outlaw the use and cultivation of marijuana through congress. The bill was introduced to the Ways and Means Committee, bypassing other appropriate committees (Ways and Means is the only committee which can send its bills directly to House floor without debate within other committees).
Testimony from the AMA representative urging not to pass the bill was covered up: When asked if the AMA had been consulted, Committeeman Vinson answered "Yes, they are in complete agreement."
The act passed on Oct. 1, 1937, Taxed growers, distributors, sellers, and buyers, making it impossible to legitimately engage in production or use of marijuana. The Bureau of Narcotics then wrote a uniform law (been pushed since 1934 and specifically naming Cannabis Sativa) for adoption by the 48 states, making production, sale and consumption illegal and Andrew Mellon and associates very very wealthy.

So you see, Marijuana was the innocent victim of industrial development and right wing politicians intent on their own selfish interests. Does this all sound familiar? It should! The rise of the neo conservatives in the U.S has seen the same immoral and underhand tactics used against absolutely anything and everything they can profit from and the whole time declaring that it is for the good of America, Bollocks! Its all Lies and Spin! With no care for innocent lives or 'collateral damage' as they put it, the good of the environment or the health of their own countrymen, the U.S government uses 'backdoor politics' to force americans to live as it wishes, and uses its military might to push its will on the rest of the world (contrary to most americans thinking, the majority of the rest of the world is the FREE world), plundering the natural resources and en-slaving the people, think about it its TRUE!

The worst thing about all of this is that it has all happened before, what happened to the Roman and British empires? The only reason that they lasted so long is that there was no freedom of information leading to ignorance, word of mouth doesn't spread as freely or quickly as it does through the internet where people can spread the truth, un-edited within seconds.

It can not last, it will not last. There is an awakening spreading throughout the world, not influenced by 'religion' or 'greed' but by justice and compassion for fellow men and all things living. There will be an uprising, there will be a revolution, whether it takes part behind closed doors using the power to boycott, within the corridors of congress, parliament or the like, or on the streets.

But hey, what do I know? I'm just an uneducated drug addict (which I'm not and have never been) that sees all organised religions as mass control (although that doesn't mean I don't believe in God), an anarchist and non conformist (I only ignore immoral or un-just laws) that doesn't know what he's talking about.

p.s if your american don't feel I blame you or hate you all, I don't, just the ones that can't see the evil leading them like lambs to the slaughter and dragging the innocent in the world with them. At the end of the day when it comes to deliverance and messiahs and all that you've just got to look at what we the British did to Gandhi, remember, drugs are not bad, people are.

a chilly eerie midnight smoke

2005-03-11T10:36:00.000Z

Last night around midnight I rolled a sweet one, took it outside and stood in the chilly, moonless evening air. I started smoking outside when Lou became pregnant with Justus, we feel very strongly about exposing the children to harmful chemicals. We buy organic, have a de-chlorinator, softener and reverse osmosis drinking water unit, we don't use aerosols and we do use only pure soap products.
Our two dogs accompanied me as I puffed away, it really was quite dark and cold although not as freezing as it has been. I stood outside on the patio by the kitchen door at the rear of the house. Our house is over a hundred years old and situated on the edge of a quiet village seven miles out from the city. The front of the house faces a private road which was once an old railway line linking the city through the countryside to the coast. The rear of the house looks out over a valley of fields, woods and a river, tucked amongst the trees is a nursing home and not much else.
I heard a shrill noise emanating from the darkness. 'Hmmm, I wonder what that was?' I thought, I looked in the general direction, sounded like fox's, I think? My dogs were just sniffing around looking for somewhere to pee when it happened again, a little clearer this time but somehow more confusing as it didn't sound much like fox's this time. Curiosity pulled my mind from the warm comfortable place it had settled amongst the haze of the marajuana, I stepped forward a little trying to get a fix on where the noise was coming from. Then it happened again, and this time there seemed to be no doubt in my slightly stoned mind what I was hearing, the dogs ears pricked up, startled. A woman was screaming, really going for it as if her life depended upon it. Fuck, the screams appeared to come from directly behind the house in the direction of the nursing home and continued for almost twenty seconds or so.
My dogs, slightly worried by what they had heard, came to me as if for protection. 'Shit, whats going on?' 'should I call the police?' 'should I go down there and take a look?' I was stoned, 'it might just be my mind playing tricks on me'. The silence which now filled the cold air seemed even more eerie, I listened intently whilst I finished my spliff, the dogs relaxed and went back to sniffing around the garden and doubt started to shroud my initial fear. 'Maybe it was fox's? I couldn't be 100% certain that it wasn't, I wasn't even 100% certain that it had come from the nursing home. 'Shit, maybe it was the spliff fucking with my senses?' I decided to try and forget about it, 'If it was coming from the nursing home then it was probably just an ill lady having a difficult time or something, if it wasn't then it must have been a fox or some other wild animal being subjected to natures cruel will.' I went back inside, settled the dogs to bed, locked up and called it a day. Lou and Justus slept soundly as I crept into bed, undisturbed by the shrill noise that I'd heard. I watched them both for a while as I always do before settling under the duvet to sleep.
Needless to say that the worry still hung on in there for a while, I played the noise I'd heard over and over in my mind trying to persuade my conscience that it was nothing to worry about until sleep got the better of me and I drifted away.
So there you go, that was what happened in the closing minutes of my day yesterday, not really that exciting or chilling to read, just bugged me I guess and gave me something to write about.

Homosexual necrophiliac duck

2005-03-08T17:35:00.000Z

Necrophilia among ducks ruffles research feathers

Donald MacLeod
Tuesday March 8, 2005

The strange case of the homosexual necrophiliac duck pushed out the boundaries of knowledge in a rather improbable way when it was recorded by Dutch researcher Kees Moeliker.
It may have ruffled a few feathers, but it earned him the coveted Ig Nobel prize for biology awarded for improbable research, and next week he will be recounting his findings to UK audiences on the Ig Nobel tour.

Ducks behave pretty badly, it seems. It is not so much that up to one in 10 of mallard couples are homosexual - no one would raise an eyebrow in the liberal Netherlands - but they regularly indulge in "attempted rape flights" when they pursue other ducks with a view to forcible mating. "Rape is a normal reproductive strategy in mallards," explains Mr Moeliker.

As he recounts in his seminal paper, The first case of homosexual necrophilia in the mallard anas platyrhynchos, he was in his office in the Natuurmuseum Rotterdam, when he was alerted by a bang to the fact a bird had crashed into the glass facade of the building. "I went downstairs immediately to see if the window was damaged, and saw a drake mallard (anas platyrhynchos) lying motionless on its belly in the sand, two metres outside the facade. The unfortunate duck apparently had hit the building in full flight at a height of about three metres from the ground. Next to the obviously dead duck, another male mallard (in full adult plumage without any visible traces of moult) was present. He forcibly picked into the back, the base of the bill and mostly into the back of the head of the dead mallard for about two minutes, then mounted the corpse and started to copulate, with great force, almost continuously picking the side of the head.
"Rather startled, I watched this scene from close quarters behind the window until 19.10 hours during which time (75 minutes) I made some photographs and the mallard almost continuously copulated his dead congener. He dismounted only twice, stayed near the dead duck and picked the neck and the side of the head before mounting again. The first break (at 18.29 hours) lasted three minutes and the second break (at 18.45 hours) lasted less than a minute. At 19.12 hours, I disturbed this cruel scene. The necrophilic mallard only reluctantly left his 'mate': when I had approached him to about five metres, he did not fly away but simply walked off a few metres, weakly uttering a series of two-note 'raeb-raeb' calls (the 'conversation-call' of Lorentz 1953). I secured the dead duck and left the museum at 19.25 hours. The mallard was still present at the site, calling 'raeb-raeb' and apparently looking for his victim (who, by then, was in the freezer)."
Mr Moeliker suggests the pair were engaged in a rape flight attempt. "When one died the other one just went for it and didn't get any negative feedback - well, didn't get any feedback," he said.
His findings have provoked a lot of interest - especially in Britain for some reason - but no other recorded cases of duck necrophilia. However, Mr Moeliker was informed of an American case involving a squirrel and a dead partner, although in this case it is not known whether the necrophilia observed was homosexual or not as the victim had been run over by a truck shortly before the incident.

2005-03-07T13:51:00.000Z

Its not hard to imagine how this poster was drained of all its colour, reference to 'white lightning part five'.

A trip to hell and back - White Lightning - part five

2005-03-07T12:13:00.000Z

I stood there for a while taking in everything before me, then I started to notice that when I paid attention to a particular detail (a pattern in the mass of web or a spider creating a path across a gap) that detail would change in some way, I could manipulate the pattern of the web and change the direction of a spiders route. I gathered my thoughts. It was becoming apparent that my 'powers' were gradually fading as I took control of my imagination. I thought about it for a while, tried to remember the events of the evening, it was patchy at best. I lay back still fully clothed and looked around, I was aware of spiders and their webs still spread across the room but ignored them to concentrate my mind on other things.
The walls were covered in an old floral pattened wallpaper. It didn't take much before the ripples started to flow across the wall, the paper then started to bubble and unrecognisable faces bulged from within. I had a poster on the wall opposite my bed, it was advertising a single by the Cure called 'Catch'. The poster was of a white background with a mixture of colours in a swirl and catch finger painted across it (see photo above). Without much effort the colours began to swirl around, spiraling around the poster and disappearing into the centre like paint being washed down the drain until there was just a white poster with the words ' the Cure' written across the top. I played with this for a while, over and over again, stopping it and rewinding now and again and then letting it drain of all colour once again.
A thought crossed my mind, if this was how surreal my waking mind could be, what would my dreams be like? Maybe I'd be able to experience a lucid dream and explore the deeper, darker reaches of my mind. Unfortunately I can't recall whether or not this happened.....or not. Later that day I awoke, I was starving hungry, I felt like shit. My mouth was as dry as an arabs sandel, I felt filthy and I stank of parafin. I was still in the clothes from the previous evening. I had to get cleaned up, thankfully the hotel was very popular, especially on a Sunday, there would be no one about so I'd be free to get my clothes in the wash and avoid akward questions. I don't think anything memorable happened that day or the next, other that is than the state of my mind! I was such a space cadet, deep in thought but thinking of nothing most of the time.
There is one thing which I don't think I mentioned earlier when speaking of what happened in the squat. Whilst out of it, half unconcious, I vividly remember seeing the word 'fun' written in colourful neon lights, coming at me like neon signs at the side of the road as you aproach them, increasing in size the nearer you are until they flash past you. This became the centre of my after trip, for days all I wanted to think about was the significance of this, was that it, is that what it is all about, life..............fun, you live you die, nothing else was certain so you might aswell just make sure you have fun!..........so I did. I was sixteen when this happened and for the next fifteen years I did nothing but this whenever possible, I toyed with commitment and responsibility now and again, but always failed miserably. So I had alot of fun, too much fun some might say and experienced many weird and sometimes wonderful things, some of which I will write about, someday.
nx

mind blank

2005-03-07T11:53:00.000Z

I've had a million idea's running through my mind lately, things I'd like to talk / write about, things I'd like to just 'put out there' to see if I get a response. But, now I've found a spare few moments I can't recall any of them. Blimey, is this what they call writers block? or is it just my brain refusing to co-operate in response to my sons waking needs?
I can't just fill this void by recounting one of the many life stories I have waiting to surface until I've finished the whole 'white lightning' thing. Guess I'd better get it out of the way and bring the account of my first trip to a close.

2005-03-04T14:16:00.000Z

Imagine a city where graffiti wasn't illegal, a city where everybody could draw wherever they liked. Where every street was awash with a million colours and little phrases. Where standing at a bus stop was never boring. A city that felt like a living breathing thing which belonged to everybody, not just the estate agents and barons of big business. Imagine a city like that and stop leaning against the wall - its wet. Banksy.

A trip to hell and back - White Lightning - part four

2005-02-25T13:06:00.000Z

In hindsight I'd have to say, 'who was I kidding?' , 'I had no idea what was happening from one minute to the next so how was I ever going to control it?' I had no idea of time at all, everything that had happened seemed at the time to have taken place over at least a couple of days and not within the 6 that had elapsed since sitting in the pub. I think one thing that had helped to confuse my mind had been that on leaving the squat, somewhere along the route to the taxi rank, night had become day, as we had got nearer the centre of town the illumination of the street lights had intensified to the point that I thought it was early morning when as far as I can make out now it was around 1 am.
So anyway, I was in, I was home, shit I can't let anyone see me like this! I've got to get to my room, shit my room, I'm staying in the same part of the building as my brothers and parents! What if I met one of them on the landing?! I had to get to the safety of my room. I started to cross the entrance hall towards a discreet door marked 'private', my legs felt like jelly so I wobbled my way over to the door and tried the handle, it opened, thank god! I gingerly stepped through and closed it behind me. Here I faced a steep and narrow carpeted staircase, two flights of stairs to the landing and safety, no problem. I felt kind of good about myself now, I just had to creep up the stairs....... Like a mouse. I started to think about how this wasn't so bad after all, granted, everything that had happened thus far seemed pretty surreal and scary but right now I seemed to be in control, just a little wobbly and spaced out.
Blimey! How long have I been here? I clearly remember a sudden realization that I'd been standing there in a place far away...........................................................................Shit! Not again, where was I?
I steadied myself with a hand on the wall looked up the staircase to the top of the first flight, took a step forward, and another and another. I climbed the first two or three steps and with each my legs became heavier and heavier. I stopped and looked down at my feet which had sunk through the carpet into the step! Woah! Shit, I'm gonna be stuck here for someone to find..........Oh, hang on, its the trip, that's all, I can simply lift my leg and take the next step, all I need to do is concentrate on the step being solid, no problem.
I summoned all the might of my mind and amazingly my foot lifted free, like a massive blob of sticky gum the stair stretched with my foot, gripping fingers stretching and thinning as my foot lifted clear. Tentatively I set it down on the next step up, the stair felt and looked like a mattress would under foot but it held firm and took my weight. I tried to lift my trailing leg, it wouldn't budge, I hooked one arm under my leg and gripped my thigh, and lifted. Slowly my foot lifted free of the stair, I felt my other foot start to sink and looked round to see it just breaking the surface of the carpet and start to disappear into the gum like step. I pulled at the trailing leg harder and with a squelch it came free. Quickly now and without much thought I stepped up to the next, tugged the other leg free and up another. I was on a roll now, my feet were still sinking into the stairs, but only slightly and I was able to free my feet with a little force and the help of my arms. Now if someone had been watching me they would have been so bemused, I must have looked like someone climbing the stairs with massive weights on my ankles, come to think of it, what with the state I must have been in, white faced, dirty and zombie like, I must have resembled Jacob marley come to haunt whoever had the misfortune to find me.
I got to the top of the second flight of stairs with much of the same effort, once at the top I looked back at the normal looking dimly lit staircase. Wow, this is great I thought, my mind was sussing out that it was in control of all this, it had developed the power of making my thoughts reality, Wow. I made my way to my bedroom door reached out for and turned the handle, the door swung slowly open and I stood gobsmacked! From just above the level of the mattress on my bed a chaotic layer of cobwebs spread across my room, thick, entwined and crawling with spiders of all sizes. I hate spiders, they make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my skin itch. This was nothing to do with me! I hadn't been thinking about spiders! How the hell was this happening?
After a while of just standing there in amazement I decided that no matter what it may seem, this is not real! There are no webs! Those aren't spiders crawling around the room!! What had happened to me being in control? I was convinced that none of what lay before me was real but I could not change it. I tentatively stretched out a hand, the webs felt real as my hand broke through them, loose threads of silk trailing from my wrist as I made a path towards the bed. Spiders scattered across the web to escape my path, I stepped in and closed the door behind me.

A trip to hell and back - White Lightning - part three

2004-08-07T10:28:00.000Z

We made it to the squat, in through a broken panel in the back door. The squat was within a row of derelict condemned houses, over grown gardens and boarded up windows. We'd been hanging out here off and on during the winter months and had stored a few provisions, bottles of water, box of fire lighters etc. The back door led into what was once a tiny kitchen which in turn led through a half glazed door to the lounge with access to the upstairs. Scattered around the lounge were old mattress' , cushions and blankets. I don't know much about what happened when we got to the squat, I came to an hour or so later. I remember two things from our time there, one of which was too real and too disturbing for my liking. Firstly I was on my back on the floor, the smell of petrol filled my nostrils and an inner alarm brought me from wherever I was to somewhere near reality, I knew I had to get up, I could not see, I could not sense anyone else in the room, I could only smell petrol! I had to get out of wherever I was, something was wrong, why can't I see?!
I clumsily scrambled around on the floor feeling for anything that would help me make sense of the situation I'd gotten myself into, I noticed a very dimly lit fireplace, I could see, it was dark. The relief spurred me on, it kind of let my mind move up another level of control and awareness I looked around me once again and this time I made a little more sense of my surroundings. There was a box of fire lighters which had been ripped to pieces its contents scattered everywhere, so that was the smell of petrol, danger over, I felt myself relax, I felt myself slip back, my body lay back but in my mind I was still sitting up, as soon as I noticed this my mind copied and lay back into ....myself.
I lay there bemused, trying to make sense of what was going on, I remembered my friends, McDonald's, ACID! Shit, that's where I was, I was tripping.........I noticed above me a frosted glass panel, I was lying with my head under the door leading to the kitchen looking up at it from the floor, the glass cracked , and then again. I was aware of myself lying under the door, I was aware that the cracking glass was above me, I was aware that what I was seeing was not real. I watched the glass more intently, I made it crack again and again, shards of glass started to fall from above me as I watched, I froze the falling glass, I rewound it watching it fit back perfectly into the panel, and then again I cracked it, I watched it fall. Dagger like pieces of glass fell down upon me, I watched knowing it not to be real, until one large pointed piece fell to my stomach and impaled itself deep into my belly! The pain was immense, I doubled over clutching my stomach, hot sticky blood poured through my fingers, I threw up.
I came round a little while later and my first thought was to my wound, it didn't exist, there was nothing there, I looked up to the glass panel, intact and in place within the door. I slowly got to my feet and stumbled through the door, A light shone through the kitchen window hurting my eyes, I heard talking. Outside were my friends, they looked pissed off with me, "are you gonna behave now Nick?"
........................."What d'ya mean? what's going on?"
"Fuck, you don't remember a thing do you?!"
"remember what?"
"You fucking attacked me!"
"what?!?"
"we got here, started making a spliff and you pulled out your flick knife"
my knife? I felt in my pocket where it had been, it was gone. It was a pocket side opening flick knife, its handle made encased in green glass with a golden dragon embedded within it.
"I had to hit you man, I threw the knife into that bunch of nettles over there, then you started going beserk, throwing things around, you ripped up the box of fire lighters and smashed a bottle before you passed out!"
I felt so confused, some of what he was saying made sense of what little I remembered, the rest I knew nothing about, my mind was a blank.
"Listen mate, we're off, we didn't know what to do with you, you've thrown up everywhere! We nearly left you here"
"fuck" that was about all I could say, all I could think.
"I got to get home man"
I could not make sense of where I was, where I lived, what day it was, what time it was. There was a vague light from a street light overhanging the rear of the house.
"C'mon, I'll walk you round to the taxi rank if you want?"
"Ok, thanks"
I felt so ill, I felt cold and dirty and all I could smell was the firelighters I'd crushed in my hands. I got to the taxi and somehow managed to tell the driver where I lived. The journey was quite short, maybe ten minutes or so. Leading to the hotel where I lived was a lane splitting a woods whose trees reached across, finger like branches entwined above forming a living tunnel. At the far end I could see home, safety. The driver dropped me here at the main road, somehow I'd managed to give him enough money to satisfy his fare. I stood and looked through the dark tunnel for a while before starting the walk, slowly, noises all around me in the woods brought my senses to life, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up, I was really getting freaked out. I looked ahead, "concentrate on the light at the end" I thought. At the half way point I'd had enough and bolted for the front door, the noises around me seemed to grow louder and louder as if I was being chased.
I reached the door, it was open.
I went inside and turned and bolted the door, I was in the porch entrance which lead to the lobby. I sat down and tried to get a grip of my runaway mind. "I'm tripping, it's the acid, it's all in my mind, I can control this!"

A trip to hell and back - White Lightning - part two

2004-08-03T14:16:00.000Z

I let the tabs of acid sit on my tongue for a few minutes until an unpleasant taste started an assault on my taste buds. "You get more out of it if you let it dissolve on the roof of your mouth" I was told so I held out until I'd had enough and washed it down with a coke. The coffee table / bong was now on the go as well as a few spliff's, I felt chilled and happy sitting there, we made jokes and chatted, some telling brief stories of experiences on trips while others laughed heartedly. I felt very laid back, the sofa seemed to be hugging me as I sank deeper into its embrace. My mind must have drifted of whilst listening to yet another story being told from across the room, whilst in this far away place I noticed I was being nudged, the nudges grew stronger until I snapped out of my thoughts to notice the person sitting next to me offering the end of a tube fitted with a mouth piece to me. The tube lay across my lap to the bong within which was a burning bud smouldering away, I tried to take the mouth piece being offered to me but my arms seemed like ten tonne weights, I felt confused by this at first and just sat there looking at the tube, "Nick......Nick...... You alright?" For some reason I just seemed to snap out of the trance like state I was in, "Yeah, Yeah, I'm ok........I was............? I don't know, nevermind, what's up?" "Do you want a hit on this or what?" "Shit yeah" I took the tube, put it to my mouth and pulled hard, it was really smooth, I felt the smoke slip through my mouth and fill my lungs but there was no burn whatsoever, I smiled. I eventually and begrudgingly passed it on, but only once the burning bud had been smoked to ash. I sat back into the sofa to watch and listen to the entertaining chatter and banter filling the room, I felt so chilled I could have melted into the sofa and slept for an eternity.
I started to notice my vision changing, well I say changing but it was like I'd been watching everything before me through a window, my face squashed up close against the glass, a crack seemed to zig zag across my view, then another, and another. It was like looking out on the world around me through a shattered windscreen, Wow! This was cool, I thought about the effect the acid was having on me so far, I never imagined it could be this cool. I don't know how long we'd been there, my sense of time had been completely lost somewhere in my confused brain, but after what seemed like only maybe half an hour but could well have been two or three we were turfed out by a now worried live in chef, apparently two of my friends had wandered downstairs to the kitchens en route to the bathroom and in the state they were in had made a mess of the place.
We'd all started to feel the effect of the acid as we left and as we stumbled out the door into the evening the effects must have been obvious to anyone that happened to see us. I'm not at all sure how, but we then split into two groups, myself and two others wandered off in the direction of McDonald's but once there neither of us had the balls to go inside, it was packed full of families tucking into rubber burgers and cardboard french fries, talking about the movie they'd just seen in the neighboring cinema. Between the two buildings was an alley leading to the rear of these buildings and on to a row of condemned houses that had recently been designated for demolition to make way for a multi story car park. One side of the alley was brick the other was a huge stretching plate glass window into the belly of the McDonald's. We stood in the alley, the other two were itching to go somewhere, get out of sight. I agreed, paranoia was kicking in, I felt real weird! There was a squat we sometimes visited amongst the row of condemned houses to escape prying eyes when we wanted a smoke. "Hey why don't we go to the squat" I suggested, "Yeah good idea" one of them replied, "C'mon then". As I went to walk I foolishly looked into the plate glass window, as I said earlier the restaurant was full of families, and they were all looking at me! I became transfixed, my feet glued to the ground my head stuck firmly facing the hoard of people some munching away some looking straight at me, one by one they looked up and straight at me until everyone of them was starring right back at me. My friends had gone, I was stuck there and I was starting to get pretty scared. "Hey Nick, what you doing?.......I thought we were going to the squat?" They'd walked off and left me, they were oblivious to the fact that I hadn't followed and only noticed me missing once they were nearing the squat. "Yeah I know, I , I can't move!" They grabbed my arms and marched me away from my hellish situation, I felt so relieved, I really was starting to panic, why couldn't my feet move? why were they starring at me? Aghhhhhhhh!!
We got to the squat, and that's when things started to get really really weird.

to be continued..........as soon as I get a chance, nx.

A trip to hell and back - White Lightning - part one

2004-07-31T10:40:00.000Z

Around this time we moved a few miles down the road to an amazing place called the Beacon Hotel. It was perched on the edge of 'Happy Valley', its grounds stretched down the valley covering fourteen acres of woodland (see photo's), hidden within were three lakes, the ruins of a victorian tea room and the original Spa which in years gone by had given Tunbridge Wells its title of Royal Spa Town. The Spa was now nothing more than a hole in the ground, a forgotten piece of history home to an old tyre and some rubble.
The building itself was a fantastic old house, hidden doorways leading to twisted corridors leading to huge rooms leading to further rooms leading to more corridors. Huge walk in fireplaces, vaulted ceilings, antique stain glass windows and ornate carvings were but a few of the features that gave this place so much character. My parents and brothers took residency in the private rooms in the main body of the building, I however had the old servants rooms adjacent to the kitchens, munchies heaven!! I had a full a la carte menu to choose from, freshly cooked meats, chilled lasagne (a favourite) and cakes of every description. How I managed not to end up a bit of a porker I'll never know, high metabolism I guess?
My favourite daylight past time was to disappear into the woods to explore the grounds and surrounding countryside, I'd find an idealistic spot, roll a sweet one, kick back and appreciate all about me. At night the beauty of the landscape was transformed into an eerie place full of leering shadows, bizarre noises and spookily strange feelings. Thousands of years ago there had been a settlement in the valley, the history of the place gave it a chilling feel once the lights were out. The building itself being three or four hundred years old was haunted with memories, there was a definate feeling of not being alone, sometimes in a warm friendly kind of way, sometimes in cold scary kind of way. You would feel the presence of something, someone following you as walked through the building in the dead of night, you'd dare not turn around for fear of seeing no one!

The building as a whole was in decent condition for such an age, however there were odd things that had fallen into disrepair, the bay window in my room had more or less disintergrated, its frame rotted and eaten by bugs. The builders were called in to take on the various repairs and while this was happening I moved to the mail private rooms nearer the rest of the family. It was around this time that I progressed from smoking the odd hash joint to my first experience with acid.
I was about fifteen or sixteen and in a pub with a couple of friends on an early friday evening when another friend came in, excited eyes indicated that the evening was about to be kick started with his presence, "hey guys, do ya fancy doing something a little different tonight?" eager glances were passed amongst us, "yeah!", "why not?" "what's up? " we said in unison, it must have sounded more like "yewyntwatup!" "I just bumped into a mate holding a load of acid, white lightning............shall we?" At the time I thought I was the only one who was yet to try acid and so true to my personality of the time I answered for all with an eager "YES!" masking my innocence in this area by being first to 'be up for it'.
He returned maybe half an hour later, "C'mon boys, lets get out of here" , "where are we going?" "I've got a mate who lives around the corner, he's a live in chef in an old restaurant and the owners are away, he'll be up for it" We were soon outside the tradesmans entrance, his mate was at first hesitant at the thought of four lads tripping on the premises but soon gave in with a little persuasion. It was / is the oldest standing building in Tunbridge Wells, its walls leant this way and that casting strange shadows across his room, the floor was warped to the extent that one of my friends who was laying on it propped up on one arm was at eye level with me sitting across the room on a sofa, In front of me was a side table with a difference, the base was an oversized glass bubble bottle, a tube inserted at its base coiling up and around it with a mouth piece at the end.
My knowledge of acid was pretty limited, I'd never tried it so knew nothing of what to expect other than being out of it. The acid in question was 'White Lightning', I was later to find out that unlike 'planets' 'red or green dragons' or any of the assorted marvel comic heroes 'White Lightning' was not only going to 'fuck me up' it would 'fuck me up, kick me in the head, drag me along kicking and screaming while mashing my brain to a pulp!' We dropped the acid soon after arriving, out of pure stupidity I dropped two! a double drop on my first time, a double drop of white lightning! I had no idea of what I was getting myself into.

bollocks!

2004-07-30T18:01:00.000Z

BOLLOCKS!! I just spent two hours writing probably my most creative bloody post yet to lose it in the depths of my fucking computers dark humoured mind!! Shit, Bollocks, Fuck, Damn and Blast!!! Oh well, maybe I'll get time tomorrow to try again. nx.

Chipping in for an eighth

2004-07-27T12:14:00.000Z

Around the age of fourteen I tried my first joint, I foolishly thought that as I'd been smoking cigarettes since the age of eleven that I'd be able to handle it 'no problemo'. I was with some older kids, who I didn't know too well, they didn't know that I had never tried dope before and I was hardly going to offer up this 'not cool' information. It must have been pretty obvious however as I pulled on the soggy roach and took my first lung full of spliff, at first the burn was much like a cigarette, then gradually it became more intense.
They'd told me that to get the most out of it I should hold the smoke down for as long as possible, I tried, the burn intensified, I must have looked like a cartoon character, red cheeks swelling, painful bloodshot eyes bulging, smoke streaming out of my ears, I was desperately looking for a sign from these older kids that I'd held the smoke down for long enough, that I'd done well, gained acceptance, respect. I saw it, a grin and a nod, from the most senior of them a skinny 15 year old kid with stumpy dreads I exhaled with relief. They were chuckling to themselves, looking at me through smiling stoned eyes in anticipation, I coughed, just a little one, my throat was instantly warmed, I giggled a little and was about to take another drag when I coughed again........and again..........and then I erupted!
A cough from hell is all I can describe it as, much worse than the coughing fit experienced when smoking your first cigarette, this was deeper, hotter, much more painful. My eyes watered, I was bent over crippled by my protesting lungs which were crying out for liquid to soothe the burn of the Molten lava in my belly. Everyone else found this highly amusing, they rolled around on the floor clutching stomachs, laughing deep and loud. The laughter was infectious and I soon found myself laughing at my own predicament, short yapping coughs interrupted this sporadically, "jesus! that burns!"
The smirk on my face turned into a chuffed grin as I looked up, tears still streaming. "well done son" accompanied by a forceful pat on the back, "at least you didn't throw up" . "Yeah" I thought, I'd held it together, "give us another go" I cockerly said, "steady on greedy lungs" said one of the kids, "go on, let him have another toke" said the dred. Cool, I was ok, I had found my niche, I was a bad boy. I can't recall how I met these guys or through whom, but I started to hang out with them, Russell, the skinny stumpy dred haired white kid became a bit of a buddy for a while and through him I was introduced to illegal dance parties, skunk and acid. I was around fifteen now and I started to gradually drift away from my school friends, I'd 'bunk off' school, spending my time either in a nearby cafe or round someone's house, getting stoned, listening to music or watching crap daytime TV.
Unfortunately this was around the time of the 'mocks' , the practice exams preceding the 'O' levels (we were I believe the last year to take 'O' level exams. The government decided to change the structure of the end of school exams for the easier GCSE's which were based on coursework throughout the year rather than one exam at the end, it made the pass success rates higher). Needless to say that my grades headed south as I fell further and further behind with each class missed. I still had it in me to do ok in the mock exams, helped by the fact that we got hold of the economic history paper two weeks prior and so had that one in the bag. I finished up with around one or two A's, four or five B's and a couple of C's as passes, leaving me with a couple of 'fails' in subjects I'd lost my way in a long time ago. When I did make it to school, the day often consisted of meeting up for registration, getting together with a few friends and persuading them to chip in a couple of pounds each to buy an eighth (of an ounce of hashish). We'd head of to a quiet spot just off school premises and skin up, sometimes we'd head back to school and continue with our lessons, else we'd drift off into town driven by munchies towards McDonald's and chicken nuggets.

Think I'd better get on with some work now, so til' next time, nx.

2004-07-21T10:45:00.000Z

'The Greyhound', the green in question is just beyond the pub.

2004-07-17T11:29:00.000Z

I remember with cheer the days when we'd scrape together our pounds and pence to buy a teenth!

2004-07-17T11:13:00.000Z

Grandad tending the garden!

Meet me at the back of the blue bus

2004-07-17T10:44:00.000Z

We moved from the Old Coach & Horses to an estate pub only a few miles away in Strood, Kent (I'll talk more about that place a little later), before uprooting and moving away from the area to the greener pastures of Royal Tunbridge Wells. The new pub (The Greyhound), was another old coach house of around the same era, only this time set in a more affluent area. I guess I must have been around thirteen, I joined a new school in the third year, a catholic comprehensive which was mixed sex!!! How the hell did they expect me to concentrate on school work after sticking me in a same sex school for the last two years? I became completely obsessed with the opposite sex but lacked the confidence to do anything about it other than fantasize.
We were picked up from right outside our front door by the blue bus to school. It was an old double decker with a real dodgy paint job, as if done by a bunch of kids on day release. The driver was a drunk, which meant that he either completely ignored whatever we got up to for fear of being found out or he just wouldn't turn up!. He'd hardly ever speak, hoping to disguise his stale ale breath with muteness. There were maybe twenty or so kids that would get on the blue bus along the route to school, some were ok, some were real knobs, but all in all we got on. There was of course a pecking order to the seating arrangements on the bus, the older you were the higher the rank, those of the highest year using the bus would take the back seat and those of lower years accepted by the 'elders' would clamber for the seats nearest to them, as if being seen chatting and laughing with an older kid made you cool?
Oh how wrong we see things when we know nothing! Our teenage interpretation of what is cool and what is not is based on social standing, if it made us more desirable then it was cool. We were developing sexual awareness, and a need to feel desired. However, we were learning about sex, and no matter how much we thought we knew at the time, we knew nothing! God how I wish I knew then what I know now, I'd have spent a lot less time thinking about sex and a lot more time pursueing it for a start!

I remember being asked out for the first time when I was thirteen, Well I say the first time but I guess I mean the first time it had been serious. I'd had various kiddy girlfriends through primary school years, one of these relationships, when I look back was kind of x rated. A slightly older friend had a partially converted loft which we were allowed to play in and more importantly a sister my age. She would bring her friend round and we'd disappear out of sight into the loft to........'get it on' kiddy style. We'd show our bits, dare to touch, and kiss. We used to strip and lay on top of the girls, we had no idea what we were doing nor why we quite liked doing it, not surprising since we were probably 8 years old.
I was playing on the far side of the green outside our pub and I saw her approaching from the beer garden. Her name was Annabelle, her hair was long and blonde with a slight waveness to it. She was around my height, very slim and a little bit hippy. Her elder sisters had been working in the pub for my parents and she'd often ride our horse at shows for us. At the far side of the green there was a huge open pit full of mature trees whose tops emergered only a few metres above the level of the green. We'd been playing here amongst the tree tops when I spied her, I knew something was up, I had a mixed feeling of intrigue and dread as she crossed the green to where I now crouched, hidden by branches lush with leaves. The kids I had been playing with either drifted off or hid themselves within earshot. Rosey cheeked she confidently said "I have something to ask you..............where are you?" I was scared shitlesss, sitting just a few feet from her obscured from view by branches. My confidence had deserted me, "err..... hi, yeah......err what's up? "will you go out with me?" I was horrified! I wasn't ready for this, I stayed embarrassingly silent for what seemed like an eternity, I wanted to say "YES!" come out from my refuge, take her in my arms and kiss her full on the lips just like in a movie,.....but I couldn't. She waited patiently for me, "are you still there?" "err yeah" shit, fuck, damn and blast!! I sound ridiculous! "Well, will you?" I summoned every ounce of courage that hadn't already abandoned me and mumbled "yes" I gradually scrambled out into the open like a wild animal weary of another keeping a safe distance. We sat through a half an hour of silence, I was praying that one of us would speak, a hundred things to say ran through my mind and each in turn were dismissed as either too embarrassing, too stupid or too corny. I can't recall what happened next but unbelievably we made it through the day and through many more there after, well a summers worth anyway!

The back of the blue bus, was the scene of many a flirtatious journey. I would often while away the early morning and late afternoon's playing out not so innocent fantasies in my mind with the various female passengers that would occupy the seats near the rear of the bus. I would invite them into my imagination where I'd talk to them, look at them, touch and kiss them with the confidence I lacked in reality. Somedays I would almost miss my stop, deep in thought, somewhere locked in a romantic embrace. I would have my favorites which I would invite most often, into my mind, beyond the barriers imposed by a lack of self confidence. Free to express myself without embarrassment, without being stuck for words, without fear of being ridiculed and laughed at. My imagination at this age was flourishing, it was my refuge where I could escape the hold of my inhibitions and explore the world free of fear.

Madness, Madness, they call it gladness

2004-07-16T15:28:00.000Z

My prize for passing the eleven plus exam was automatic entry into Grammar school, 'Whoop-Fucking-eee!' At the time I was well chuffed, I was ignorant of what attending Grammar school would be like and my parents were proud of me (for once). My dad delved deep into his pockets and fished out just enough to buy me a pair of 'roller boots', a treat for not turning out to be so bad after all..... I guess?. I remember being silently gutted as I'd hoped for a bmx, but hey, I had wheels! I was mobile! it was 1981 and roller boots were trendy! Not cool like a bmx, but they'd do!
My mum and dad were publicans at the time and so we lived above the pubs they ran. The first was a real old place rumoured to be frequented by 'Dick Turpin' the infamous highwayman. 'The Coach and Horses' on the old Roman London road in Kent, South East of England. There is for some reason a blank space in my memory of my time there, not that I can't remember a thing, but there seems to be no vivid images in my mind, as if a fog had engulfed my mind clouding all in mystery. The whole place had an eerie feel, it was over 250 years old and in that time there must have been plenty of devilry and scandalous behaviour. The sort of place where you'd prefer not to be alone, probably because you weren't. There was always a feeling of unkown company throughout the pub and its lodgings.
My father would tell of how he arranged the beer cellar to suit modern methods, and that each time he did so something or someone, would somehow re-arrange huge beer barrels over night to the way they'd been before, the way they'd been for a long, long time. Those big and burly beer drinking men would laugh deep and hard at hearing this, 'yeah, yeah, yeah.....pull the other one!' To this my father would calmly challenge the biggest and loudest of these men to walk the long rickerty and narrow stairs deep under the floor of the bar to the cellar, with the lights OFF! And once at the bottom they were to feel their way along the stacks of barrels to the far end to retrieve a bottle of beer, then return up the stairs to the bar where they would be rewarded with all the beer they could drink for the rest of the evening! Not one of these big brave men ever made it to the bottom of the stairs, not one!
I know that this sounds weird but I know that I was never alone, playing in my room, out of hours in the bar or in the overgrown gardens. That feeling you get moments before the shiver runs through you, fear? dread? I don't know which but it was there all the time. I've told people since that I would play with the ghosts, but I'm not so sure, I think they kind of just were, nothing more, they were there somewhere, everywhere, more like a feeling that lived in and through you rather than around you? I don't know.
I got the bus to my new school from here. There were some things about grammar school that I remember with fondness, but mostly it was regimented hell. I don't respond well to being told what to do, I guess I need to feel like its my choice. At grammar school there was no choice, you did it or you got caned, something I've done on a regular basis in later years although not in quite the same context. My lessons included German, chemistry and physics, religious education ( which should have been named Christian education as we learned nothing of Buddhist Islamic or Hindu beliefs), English, mathematics, and (extreme) physical education. We were made to wear strict uniform of grey trousers, white shirt, house tie, black shoes, black socks (I was often detained for wearing white), school blazer and cap. No matter what the weather we wore the blazer and cap whether on the school premises or out of school, at least we were meant to. I found myself in detention on at least one occasion for being caught out of school with blazer stuffed in bag.
I think that at school the most important lesson learnt was how to bend not break the rules (thanks to Madness for that most true of phrases). At grammar school the lesson to be learnt was 'don't get caught' because unlike the kids today we did get discipline beaten into us, and so if you got caught you paid dearly. Much unlike the kids today that bravely tell teacher to 'fuck off' we bit lips, took the cane and schemed of ways to get even. You see the cane makes you think and therefore learn, realize your position, hold your tongue and take revenge. I'd like to see how cocky the kids today would be if they faced the sharp lingering sting of the cane across their open palms or backsides?
One thing about my time at grammar school that I remember with both fondness and regret is my first venture into business, I sold cigarettes for ten pence each, boxes of matches for five pence and in competition with the tuck shop I'd sell packets of crisps for ten pence again. Regretfully my stock came entirely from behind the bar of my parents pub, something I'm sure I was punished for long ago and hopefully forgiven.
Thankfully I only attended grammar school for a couple of years, my parents were called in to see the master to be warned that as the cane was not having the desired effect on me that they would have to consider expulsion should my behaviour not improve. Unfortunately for my master I had never told my father of the canings I'd received for fear of further punishment at home. My father enraged at the punishment I'd been subjected to was restrained from returning the pain in kind by my mother and made do with making immediate arrangements to move home and find me a new school......................Thanks dad!

Winter in July! / Childhood Summer's

2004-07-09T12:44:00.000Z

This getting beyond the joke! For gods sake bush, blair, esso, the entire industrial world! Take a look around you! Its miserable and cold and its JULY! Shit don't you think that this 'global warming thing might actually be real?' If your view is 'I can't see it so it ain't happening' then open your bloody eyes!!!!!
Sorry, rant over. Its damn cold and is shouldn't be, where have the long hot summers I remember as a child disappeared to? What's the point in funding scientists if your not going to listen to them? We've been warned so isn't it about time we acted on the advise we've been given? The long and the short of it is if the gulf stream stops so does life as we know it, and guess what? Its stopping! Industrial pollution cause green house gases which warm the planet (only slightly but enough), as the global warming melts the ice caps the fresh melt water flows into our seas and mixes with the salt water. Our sea levels rise and the salt content of the water decreases as its diluted causing changes to the behavior of the gulf stream. Now I'm not sure about this bit but apparently the cold salty water of the North Sea causes the warm gulf stream down deeper under the sea and on a return journey to South America, and so it travels much like the fan belt in your polluting car engine as you drive a mile to the shops to buy some product that's been transported half way around the world so that you can eat it out of season. The diluting sea water means that the gulf stream is slowly but surely slowing down, and eventually, it will stop and when it does this miserable, cold weather today will feel like the glorious long hot childhood summers in comparison to what's to come!
So there you go, become environmentally friendly, teach your kids to respect the environment and maybe one day our descendents will be able to enjoy long bright hot summers, just like we did.

I have always loved English summers, while living around the Mediterranean I used to yearn for a change from the uncomfortably sweltering summer sun and a return to English summers. As kids our favorite past time to the dismay of our parents was to disappear into the woods and explore. We would wander for miles, stopping to make a camp here and there, lighting a fire and cooking whatever we could pinch from mum's cupboards that morning. I once got hold of a big old saucepan used for years for stews and curries, between us we'd pinched half a dozen eggs, a few sausages, beans and bacon. We lit a fire, chucked the lot in and scrambled it all up into some kind of breakfast omelet. It was gorgeous, we were crammed around the pot, a fork each digging in. We raced to get as much as possible, 8 - 9yrs old and cooking unsupervised on an open fire in the middle of a very deep wood. Afterwards we'd light the few cigarettes scavenged from home, and share them round, a few coughs to start with as our young lungs struggled to cope with the initial burn and then we'd be puffing away.

God it felt good, we'd lounge around sunny glades, explore private woodland, search for unspoilt clay pidgeons where they fell, some had signs of a near miss with a shotgun pellet. One time they were shooting them out of the sky above our heads as we searched the bracken beneath, it was exhilarating! A few miles into the wood was a mausoleum that was ancient, an arched stone staircase took you up to the main room, it had beautiful carvings on the walls and the ceilings and the reminants of a stone alter in the centre. Beneath here was the crypt, its walls were honeycombed resting places, once there were people entombed in the walls, I wonder where their remains are now? It was a truly spooky and beautiful place, I would love to hang out there as much as possible, sometimes I would chill there alone. Whether on my own or accompanied by friends I would be up and leaving home by 6 or 7 and home just either side of dark. All around the site of this ancient playground were huge bracken dwarfing the hundreds of thousands of bluebells laid out like a carpet beneath them. There were rumours of witches using the site for their ceremonies, something that excited my sense of intrigue, I tried once to hide out in view of the moselium one summer solstice evening in the hope of witnessing demonic sexual acts but bottled it as the trees shadows merged with each other as night engulfed the wood, gutted that I was too scared to stay, yet shitting myself all the way home, constantly looking over my shoulder sure that I was being followed by some creature or another. However when I got home I encountered a monster more dangerous than any that may have been tracking me home through the wood, my really pissed of mum!

If we were not playing in and around the mausoleum we were 'scrumping', we started by picking berries and cob nuts and progressed to invading the orchards and farms that skirted the woods. These were great playgrounds and once in a while we'd get the added thrill of being chased by farmers, one even shot at us, well, he shot his gun, whether at us or in the sky it didn't matter, he'd shot it, we'd scarpered fueled by a rush of blood that carried us off his land and deep into the safety of the woods.

Oh for a return to those super summer days, exploring, adventuring, discovering. Learning to appreciate nature, danger and the back of my mothers hand.

2004-07-09T12:30:00.000Z

what toys get up to when your out!

2004-07-09T12:29:00.000Z

2004-07-09T12:28:00.002Z

2004-07-09T12:28:00.001Z

2004-07-09T12:28:00.000Z

2004-07-09T12:27:00.000Z

2004-07-09T12:23:00.000Z

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2004-07-09T12:18:00.001Z

2004-07-09T12:18:00.000Z

2004-07-09T12:11:00.000Z

2004-07-09T12:10:00.000Z

Tantrums and Sore Bums

2004-07-08T16:00:00.000Z

When your real young, you know from when your so high to........I don't know, I guess twelve or so, your choice of friends is completely at the discretion of mum. I'd like to say mum and dad but that would hardly be true now would it? If your mum clicked with their mum then you would have a new friend whether you liked it or not!

Let's face it, we have to get on with someone before we become friends with them, so maybe while mum and co gossiped over a nescafe or two and we continuously fought and bickered, Maybe, we were never meant to get on and play nicely? Maybe we were never going to 'click' and be friends? Maybe, despite the bad behavior, the bickering and the temper tantrums, maybe we didn't deserve to be pants down and rosey cheeked!
Given the chance we would have probably swapped childish obscenities like 'get lost bogey nose' and gone our separate ways. But no, like we would cage assorted bugs together in a shoe box to see them fight, our mums would send us off to a bedroom to duel and then resume chatting knowing full well that inevitably one would soon be back sobbing and blaming the other for pulling hair or a poked eye.

I guess its much the same with brothers and sisters, most of us don't get on with at least one of our siblings, if they weren't family would you have ever become friends? I've often pondered this question, usually with a negative outcome, but hey, they're family, you really don't get a choice so shut up and accept it. I learnt that being the eldest any arguments and squabbles would nearly always result in a smack followed by tears for me. So I soon discovered it was best to channel my annoyance with whoever by setting them up for the fall, much more fun and no more sore bum!

A selection of my favourite 'set ups':

1. Dashes of felt pen down the front of my top followed by "mmmmum, look what he/she did to me" This one would result in the other kids mum embarrassed and aiming a sharp clip around the back of bare legs.

2. "Lets find something to play with in your mum and dads bedroom"

3. A spilt cup of water or juice in the other kids bed, no instant satisfaction but you knew that come bedtime there would be questions asked.

4. "Lets see how many of your rolled up socks we can throw up onto the top of your wardrobe or even out of an open window"

nx

Primary School

2004-07-06T12:07:00.000Z

I remember the day our class teacher read out the names of those that had passed their 11+ test at primary school. I remember her beaming with pride that six of her class of twenty odd pupils had passed, I don't think I'd seen the sour faced old trout ever smile before, in fact I'm sure of it.
Her face glowed with achievement, in her eyes it was she that deserved the accolade, we were merely her tools. She held the congratulatory letter outstretched before her and proceeded to read out the six names of the wonderfully talented children she'd guided to stardom. Mine was the fifth name read out, and the sixth and the seventh as she repeatidly struggled to understand who? how? why? Her voice went from deep and proud to shrill and unbelieving, she looked around the class searching out the imposter, the black sheep in her beautiful gleaming white flock.
For two years I'd sat at the same desk in the same place five days a week, and she took what to me seemed like an eternity to find me. We had of course already been informed of our results by post via truly proud parents, and so I had gone to school that day full of self belief and still bearing the grin that had spread across my face at seeing my parents so made up. That self belief was shattered as I realized that I was a fake, a typing error maybe? By the time her searching finally found me I shared her embarrassment and disbelief, my fragile ten year old self esteem had been completely wiped out in some 2 minutes on the day that was to be my proudest school moment since winning a three legged race one sports day.
She laughed as she said "Well I must say this is a surprise"(no shit!), "Maybe it is some kind of mistake?" sniggers started to develop around the class "and now on with class children", a few of the flock asked questions about what grammar school might be like excited at the prospect of going to a school for 'special' kids, some shot me glances, 'imposter!'. I wasn't supposed to be amongst them and so too embarrassed to join in with the excitement I just sunk into my chair and wished the day would end.
I really hated school from that day and I truly believe that her handling of the situation effected the rest of my days in the classroom, I lost all respect for teachers and all other figures of authority, I'd think 'fuck you' as I'd smile back at them.
I doubt whether she was to blame but she was most certainly a major part of the culmination of events in my life that have molded and fueled my personality, one of if not the first domino too fall in the complex pattern that weaves a course, developing my mind, the decisions I've made and actions I've taken. So fuck her for all the mistakes and regrets in my life, fuck her for destroying my self esteem, fuck her for selfishly devouring my confidence, fuck her for laughing at me!
p.s I don't believe she ever did read out the name of the kid sixth on the list (or eighth if you count the three times my name got a mention before theirs), I do hope their omittion didn't effect their psychie in any way.

Positive memories of primary school days (in no particular order):

Please note I attended a total of three primary schools, due to upwardly mobile parents always looking to improve 'our quality of life' at the expense of my brothers and my stability, but hey, don't get me wrong, on the upside its made my life that much more eventful and interesting.

1. Winning the three legged race at the first of my primary schools with some kid who's name I'll never remember put face I'll never forget. Cherished my rosette for many years, think it may even be around somewhere now!?

2. 'Wordy' (at least that's what I think he was called), the animated character that would pop up during the weekly lesson that involved watching educational tv. If anyone remembers that show in the seventies then please let me know.

3. Making up reasons to repent at confession, my second school was a private catholic school run by nuns and once a week we would be marched down a hill to the church to make our confessions. This was probably one of the best creative exercises from my time with the nuns, my imagination would run riot thinking up the most bizarre things to confess to, I think that on one or two occasions I went too far and my made up sins would result in a private chat with our worried priest.

4. 'Kiss Chase' nuff said!

5. Making candle wax and matchstick houses in class, a creative art lesson that i doubt very much would ever be allowed today. I took this lesson home to the dismay of my parents and soon learnt how to get spilt candle wax out of the carpet.

nx

devilry & dharma

2004-07-03T10:38:00.000Z

De'vilry (de'-) n. black magic; wickedness; reckless daring.

&

Dharma (da'me)n. right behaviour; Buddhist truth; Hindu moral law.

Intro to my mind

I guess that if i were to describe my personality in two words those two words would be 'devilry & dharma'.
I'm not satanic although it intrigues me, stories of wild sexual deviance, biting, scratching, fucking and sucking the life from a willing participent, emotionless and uncaring indulgance in selfish desires. I do wonder what of that which we've been told is nothing more than spin created by the church over the ages to glorify their version of God. I guess like most i've a wicked side although these days i try and restrict it to random thoughts and fantasy. As each year passes common sense and self preservation consume the reckless daring that has overwhlemed my life so far.

Having been force fed catholicism at home and at school i opt for righteous behaviour over organised religion. Oh how my caring, righteous concious side would love to overpower my weak willingness to follow buddha, i've concluded thus far that my appreciation of buddha and his teachings will be as they are, appreciation and admiration, ( i love meat!). If only the world was ruled by morals and not greed, i don't believe things would be grey and boring if we all did 'the right thing' i believe that by being freed from the fear created by greed the world would blossom with creativeness and dare i say it 'love'.

So these are the words that i feel best describe me, those that know the physical me may not agree but they don't see the result when my imagination unlocks the door of perception unleashing the darkest fantasies and the most pure of thoughts.

Please feel free to comment on these thoughts and experiences, i'll keep this a mixture of both and leave it to you to decide which are fact and which are fiction. Oh, and by the way, please ignore my spelling and grammatical errors, i've never written before and so this is kind of a new thing for me.

So, here goes, lets start with early thoughts and experiences of the dark side!