It's time ...

Do you know what I mean?

This is Water

Today, a quote:

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, "Morning, boys, how's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, "What the hell is water?"

(Waffle waffle waffle - good waffle, but lot's of it. And a bit heavy)

In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship - be it JC or Allah, be it Yahweh or the Wiccan mother-goddess or the Four Noble Truths or some intangible set of ethical principles - is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things - if they are where you tap real meaning in life - then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you. On one level, we all know this stuff already - it's been codified as myths, proverbs, cliches, bromides, epigrams, parables: the skeleton of every great story. The trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness. Worship power - you will feel weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to keep the fear at bay. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart - you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out.

(More waffle)

The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the "rat race" - the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.

(Waffle again)

It is about simple awareness - awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, that we have to keep reminding ourselves, over and over: "This is water, this is water."

So, when Brig bangs on about how life is 'all about choices' and we roll our eyes, maybe she has a point. (But she's just kinda bastardised it with her corporate speak)

I really want a tattoo.

Escaping for Dummies

It's a luscious mix of words and tricks
That let us bet when you know we should fold
On rocks i dreamt of where we'd stepped
And the whole mess of roads we're now on

If you're wondering how to leave my place without making any excuses or if you simply don't like goodbyes, you have two options:

1) Pass the Dutchie any which way you like. (x at least 2) Wait for the floor to come up and greet everyone. Laugh maniacally and say, 'My work here is done'.

Or if you'd like something a little less aggressive, yet equally effective;

2) Play Don't Panic by Coldplay and Caring is Creepy by The Shins. And watch as your magic is woven.

We live in a beautiful world

Yeah we do

Yeah we do

Bugs, bugs everywhere ...

People bugs
Travel bugs
Fun bugs
Ideas bugs

They itch.

Remember this?

A maiden never bold:
Of spirit so still and quiet,
that her motion
Blush'd at itself.


Jiofdhn jifnh hoikek oohjenl, jowhioekm herhon ppkwej

If my conscious mind were to pick the subconscious to bits, I would note undertones of wanting the masculine in my life as seen in ‘Jiofdhn’, - If you look closely you will see the name John in there. Upon further inspection I would see that I’m hankering for some Asian-inspired food, hence ‘hoikek’ which is very similar to Hokkien noodles. I would see that the pressures of career are settling in more than usual ‘jowhioerkm’ – a convoluted mix of my name, Jo, and the word ‘work’. And the yearning for some kind of release from it all, as seen in ‘herhon’ a close resemblance to the word ‘heroin’.

I suppose that incoherent, nonsensical jumble of non-words makes more sense that I could ever try to make.

The earth has spun away from the sun
And the night has come to claim me
Away from the couch I will come
And really, who could blame me?

When You're a Boy

Heaven loves ya
The clouds part for ya
Nothing stands in your way
Clothes always fit ya
Life is a pop of the cherry
You can wear a uniform
Other boys check you out
You get a girl
These are your favourite things
Boys keep swinging
Boys always work it out
Theyll never clone ya
You're always first on the line
You can buy a home of your own
Learn to drive and everything
You'll get your share
Boys keep swinging
Boys always work it out

Don't beat around the bush ... Throw yourself into it!

I know what I know

I'll sing what I said

That's a thing that I keep

In the back of my head

We had a pea party the other night. A carnival of open-mouthed clowns and some kids to piff peas straight into them. Man, do they roll? Yes they do. There was a lone pea in the hallway the next morning. It made me smile and think of you, my pea cunt. Did you feel embraced with the love of the CC's yesterday morning when you opened your front door to a sea of two minute noodles? I can see your face in that moment and hear your snort. (Chuckle, Dr Hibbert?)

It's your first day at school! I'm in your pocket all day today - squeeze me if you need to.

It's very windy today. There's no doubt about it.

P.S. You are a cunt. You're never around. We* should call you BIC and graduate Ron to Assistant Head Cunt. All you need to do is say 'yes'. It's easy. You should try it.

* The royal fkn 'WE'. It can't be helped but it's mighty irritating. Especially when you are included in something that you don't want to be. An opinion of some sort and you're just sat there feeling like you've been bound and gagged. Spoken for (not in the good way). Like the guy in Office Space. 'Excuse me, I believe you have my stapler...' And then later, 'I could set the building on fire.' (Which reminds me - Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.) I think I actually do speak for all of us when I use 'WE' and if I don't, well - FUCK EWE ALL. Another footnote that's longer than it needs to be.

I exist in the realm of brackets and footnotes. That's my metaphor and I'm sticking to it.

(Oh, fk it! There's this MP3 that I really want you to hear. It's funny as all get out. Next time I see you, I'll force it upon you. It's a Stephen Merchant rant about a pig called Vera. Very funny. Ooh, Heart of Glass just came on. Must go. Can't type with one hand.)

Our Song

What is our song?

You must be joking. Does 'I was standing...' ring any bells? (I was being sweet, not trying to seduce you with a couch in a club in the 1980s)

Yes, there was a huge amount of energy in the room on Wednesday night. It's really mind-blowing that we've all landed in each others' laps like this (some literally, others metaphorically). It's very speshool. Very speshool. Whirlwind, indeed. I think I need to stop prefacing any impromptu catch ups with 'a quiet one'. Invariably, it ends up being quite the opposite. Intentions go astray very quickly, don't they? I can't believe I gave you the 'Get your fkn hands of my woman' look as you left. You know I trust you. (That's the jealous streak in me, cnt.)

Yes, get your bro and Lis hooked up, tout de suite! S'pose there's no rush. It'll happen when he dumps the scrag and hangs out with us more.

The sun is shining. It's 23 degrees outside. I'm hoofing it to the Vineyard tonight for a 'quiet one' with PC* Then we're watching Steven Berkoff at the National Theatre.

My favourite lyric**:

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands

* Pete Cunt
** Or perhaps it's actually this: He ducked back down the alley with some roly-poly little bat-faced girl

We've had this conversation before, haven't we ...

Cunt?

To be sure.

The intermission is over. Time for Act II

You first.