Mind dump S

Consolidation – lots of scraps of paper and repetition.

(I’m sure) he’s got a smile that could floor you – as women like to dream.

She smells of cigarette smoke and her voice is like a cement-mixer at the end of a long day “Hi. Have we met?” Not sexy darlin’ : you’re out.

There’s some of the geek in all men. But those who not are not real men. But not all who are, are either.

Hello. A simple word. An honest word.

The ink of the night seeps into the pallid, dying day and gives it a homely feel, a vibrancy, a sense of achievement. And the people who before were random shapes grazing lazily on the diet of tedium and unsatisfying offerings now seem to have a direction, a glimmer of purpose that makes them much more interesting to the interested, or even casual, observer.

Equality is a moving balance (balancing scales?)

I have a lifetime’s head start.

What is love ---?!!!Deb H, answer/question.

How do you find your strength through giving it to others?

In that moment’s pause the world was not created.

I’m not coming back, am I? (prophetic?)

If liking you gets me more of what I want.

You might find me (,) occasionally curious.

(?) When you impose your own view on the world on it, you miss what it has to say.

Sometimes you’ve just got to follow the Rules of the World, no matter. Cause if you don’t, it might get upset: “Who do you think you are? Do you think you know better than me?” You might be right and it wrong, but there’s politics even in Nature.

This is, of course from reading, not proper time spent in conversation. For which I thank you: sparing me such a tiresome exercise.

New labels on old jars. Give me a novel idea and I’ll show you a forgotten memory.

How much really is tied up in that pickle jar?

Identity shop.

The “wounded animal from 100 yards” thing, but I can sense things about you – I know them only as abstruse sensations that niggle; alien inside me, but not alien of themselves. Just…just not me or mine.

“Ah! You lie so well, ma chere! If only I could believe you, I would. I’ve seen you do this so many times…gaily taking men for all they’ll give (and more).”
Leave ‘em laughing.

5 minute fuck – that phrase, brutal in its honesty fails to broach the ineluctable march of ….

(where?) “I could tell you thoughts long-forgotten that lay with me and wrote my dreams.”

(new responsibilities in each country)

I know full well in terms of what you would strip from me I am an infinite resource. The pretence, the veil, the glamour you have cast to make all seem well – I see beneath it, I move within your walls. It’s a question of how much you think is enough; how short your attention span. We could move up another level and even then, one more. If we could go yet farther, I would fly with you?

Life has run its course and it’s he who stands there kicking. Maybe it’s because you’re doing it right?

Treat all like a surrogate father. The more you open up, the more they become entangle. How do you call that winning? As they limit themselves they limit their interest to me but they cannot help but limit themselves.They read too much into the years. Something that is only the passage of time.

An exclusive arrangement. A crime scene with no clues, only answers to all the wrong questions.

Wet slides down you. Freedom and I see each other, reach and walk on with a wave. Walk in rain. Open yourself to the elements: my kith and kin. That which draws you near pushes you away. The tar and feathers of humanity.

Another combination: I cannot sell myself. Everyone’s running from life, rage-simplistic. To be man is to want to be God. People are so simple: shaping.

We talk Hedonism and fake write. Exonerate yourself. Maintain consistency between points – come with nothing, leave with nothing.

Killing time. But then it leaves me alone: it’s revenge, my curse.

(The Traveller/C…? )
These people will have moved on; taking my life here with them. So I must travel further to find a new one. Victory and defeat taste just as sweet: I wonder what the difference is between them.

A blog is a good life record. You should print it out and keep it for when you forget who you are.

Opens a path to impossible questions; but step inside and look inside.

Those hours either side of the day.

I know you: all my nightmares rolled into 1. I exist in neither fluid, gas nor solid. Runt of the litter, born into the wolves’ den weeks too late, a future possibility made real. And my lonliness returns one hundred-fold, plus one. A woman’s trick to laugh and look at you askance; to comment to a friend, nearly innocently. Hard path: diet of truth. The harder you bite, the louder I laugh, you cannot escape the hook. Steal your joy to conceal my pain. My weakness is my strength.

You can fit a maudlin crow inside a triumphant one just so. It fits like a Martrushka inside its mother.

Your experiences as a child don’t count for much; those of you as a ‘supposed’ adult less. It is for me to call you comrade. Why do you forget all you struggled to learn so easily, ready with no notice to fall back to staring at the letterbox, poking it with a disdainful finger?

I have nothing to sleep for: I do not need the rest.

Underestimate the strength of a woman, born to bear man.

I see lines emerging, strands of similarity . I will watch your instincts tear you apart. Might I help in picking up the pieces? I might. Who knows? That foretold tomorrow might be one day out of reach.

(?) It was always there: I kept the dragon leashed, the serpent coiled.

I’ve made a silent vow to you. All. To be a man. Now the stranger becomes new. Your adult games, your silly games. Take 5 minutes 2 piece your thoughts together. Ain’t gonna happen, don’t say sorry.

Got game? A graph of highs and lows. If he could steal my words and use them as his own, he would. Invite 01. The immeasurable distance magnifies your strength. I know the lies as I walk alone. Think Leanne Rimes and wonder? Having to do and being able to are different, take it from me.

She thinks she knows him better than she’ll let herself see.

I suffer from hip envy.

Words; were you to unravel them would fill the world with a tapestry meal so rich.

Sometimes still you see the good in them. The question that begs a split second’s pause: a jumping, seizing-up jerk in their movement before they proceed afresh, lubricated by their beliefs of no truth, no need for knowledge.
“It is not false modesty nor fishing for praise; it is my belief. I wish to state it once; for the record.”

An ideology. A stave to peg my heart to this ground.

You’ve been married? That makes you two people.

Adversity Neighbourhood (?).

If it weren’t so funny, I’d stop myself laughing. There have been changes, but the flaws are still there. Letters are pipes unblown. Conceit drives recognition impotence.

It’s funny the things that survive a war: nationalism, a weakly sick runt, rises, fed on a protein diet of blood like a skinhead having learned to love pain (?)
I’ll put you in a bag like a pebble and carry you round my neck.

Blue, blue, how we long to be there with you frolicking beneath the waves, calm in their watery embrace. No shore shall ever contain us, no net ever snare us, watch as they receive our brethren, summer seas, summer seas, know, feel the labour that knows no toil, fear no danger though predators hunt overhead. Let our journey begin in hope and end in hope fulfilled. We will need much at times though we forget it all the while. Have you no sense of sanctity? While we cannot bury our dead we must mourn them. We must. To travel in flight is to travel blind, you can but wish you find a better place. Ah! Now (I think) I see you, now we meet.

R was a bit of a waif, if the truth be known. Not scrawny, per se, but raggedy around the edges. To describe her as plain would be both an under and over statement. She had a manner that would force itself upon you but could not, of its own, bear much scrutiny. She seemed eager, interested, but closer inspection would reveal it was more about herself than anything outside (of her). Low cut tops and short skirts completed an ensemble that got her attention she otherwise would not deserve.

I’ve been visioning. I’ve put you in a picture. Verdant seems to fit for you. A sylph. In summer. You hold my focus with your presence. Ethereal, aery it seems you never quite touch the ground though your sometimes bare feet have never completely left it. I’ll take you into city streets, cathedral’s spire, cobbled streets and distant hills of green. And you. Complete the picture. I’ll take you inside, snug and warm. Watch you cosy in as fire’s flickering flames compete with your waterfalling golden hair to cast shadows on the burnished walls.

Tu sens ma reve, ma vrait (?)

I am here; where are you?

I cannot see you smile for me.

My body asks my what I’m trying to do and I cannot reply.


Snapshots. Half a game I invented. Rules: Observe people/places between 1 and 30 seconds. The shorter the time, the better. Describe the people. Try to capture their essence. You may use purely physical, but it’s better if you can be more original. Write how long you observed them for. Bonus points for extrapolating into their (imagined) lives. If you can merge them/the situation together, all the better. State total time spent watching everyone. If you can write down 1 or 2 words and then complete from memory later – superb!

1 3-5 secs. I see the 3 together: wannabe blondes, wannabe fun-loving; life-living, wannabe what they’ll never be. All in jeans, dark, padded jackets. Between 5’ and 5’4. No shoes, all trainers. Independently, sequentially harried.

2) 7 secs. 2 lads. 1 Indian. Walk is precise, deliberate, hiding his impotence. T’other West Indian, relaxed, enjoying talking, casual. Holds an easier pose.

3) ?? secs. Student loafers! A kind of couple. Casual, ponytailed, multicoloured to hide no colour, platform trainers. A slow day in their slow lives.

4) 5 secs. Hurried. Not unimportant, but not important. Likes to hide in the middle, but might say his piece with controlled anger. Dressed by his wife to please her image of him.
5) (10-15) Nice. Ultimately a safe option. Shiny hair. Angular, bowed, not too much weight. Still not fully comfortable with her shoes.

6) 8 secs. Young. Thick brows and hair suggest a not quite as relaxed as walk suggests attitude. V. Slim.

7) 8 secs. Couple. Dog. He carries and talks and is pulled about by dog. She bounces wobbily along beside.

8) 6 secs. Shaved head. Beret. Shops in middle-class land. More artistic, left-wing than not. Has a lot of friends and little purpose.

9) 8 secs. Baby. Bumbling along on own. All-boy, dark blue beanie. Mother’s boy. A Casanova?

10) 15 secs. Ungainly. Out of control. Too hurried. Cut in two and put back together again badly – L with tail body shape (lightning bolt). Little rabbit/toy on belt reinforces security needs?
15 mins total.

Disaffected youth – is there any other kind?

Drink in happiness, drink in your life. 2 people with a limp. A lot of fat-bottomed ungainly women. As it’s pretty damn hard to have a bad bum, imho, I’m quite happy to critique. It’s just an observation about what I see vs. a standard I’ve seen. Rubenesque.

The way he holds his stick, gently pushing it ahead of him as he’s guided, apparently quickly by his jumping/speedy/shuffling steps, is one I’ve not seen before.

Wear your colours to protect you from (un) wanted attention. Instead attracting a moment’s presumption.

Learn to take what you can from the table in front of you.

Peeled, winnowed, never decry the husk for it has its uses though you are the one left feeling full.

LNS – the delight of exploration – subtleties and nuances, similarities and differences.

Sunday morning cocoon. You like its warmth against your marrow – healing time. You like the running order of the day: almost none. You raise yourself up, ever so slightly, to allow that shard of pale sunlight to play across your murmuring, half-conscious breast, and think of last night’s stranger (LNS).

You cannot hear that scream as it is so deep, but you feel it as your soul shreds and snarling, frenzied, bloodlust out of control (revision) turns upon itself again and again and even when it is no more it is still there: a phantom chasing, cursing, (c-g/biting/gating) the pain that is itself.

The land of bri-nylon. Swell, airfreshner and cigs despite my request. I open the window and let in the night. Noises – 4x who? How many times that hey? Bed is too small, must be an original Bates’.

He smiles. Only humans smile, other animals bare their teeth. He’s baring at me.

Nationality – an attitude as well as an accident.

Perpendicular, wriggling. Days at school Bent fish. I look at my passport and see it’s time to go. Malevolent. I was not born here just to stay within these borders, just because that was the time we were due. All.

The range of women vs men – the latter have more outliers - breadth, but less depth, the former the opposite. Interesting contrast. Like having all the chromosomes, but not the correct order/combination. Together they form a ‘T’.

Fish out of water – have you now found your element.

Sometime, I’m not exactly sure when. May 1983, I think. The world changed. Got a little thinner round the waist, as though it was starting to fade.

He doesn’t know it, but he’s a word; a world waiting to be explored.

He killed himself in the way that most people do: by over-living.

My catharsis: a public shame.

It’s the difference for the other, not the majority that counts.

We went running once; that was a good day.

Ring. A webring. Other rings. A better choice than most could imagine.

Vision sweeps and wipes away what’s in front of you.

Breathing blood.

A more inappropriate name would be hard to find.

Why do you ask the same questions over the years?

Air. Isn’t it the most fantastic drug ever?

You do not so much hear the roar, as feel it: YOU. ARE. NOT. ME.

Turns and walks slowly from the room, his mind scurrying before him.

Never-ending strings make symphonies, an accord with the rhythm. Paint the sky with tears, translucent, something to reach for but never quite touch.

Sometimes you don’t need to communicate something for it to have effect.

For those few hours your mind is not your own, but the effects are felt for far longer.

Antipodean, the world will turn to the right place (for/in) the combination.
Need to spend or lose it, eat or have it eaten. Impatient/childlike/peasant mentality (?)

Need to keep peace among uneasy allies – those at the top at least.

To be a soldier, temporary in a foreign land, not really invited, accepted grudgingly, fighting but not for your own.

Synchronise release efforts – a burst – like commerce on its roll.

A thing of loveliness may touch even those who know/understand it not.

I wonder about their haircare usage.

How I love and hate to visit a new place, someone’s ‘home’ for the first and first few times.

How we treat our heroes.

Being alone is great. Until other people get involved.

The signs are all around: doesn’t he know it’s for him?

Follow the tenets of The Law of God as laid down by man. Strikes me the Laws of God would be a bit more…substantial?

Free Will is essential to religion. Without it there is no right and wrong and thus no debate and thus no foundation for being right or wrong. Simple? Think about it….

I’m going to read a book on gardening.

Ineluctable. It’s a word I have for breakfast.

Priorities. It’s a list.

You walk in pain as though your limbs do not belong together.

“Maybe” is the death knell.

I think travelling now is more rewarding because of the state the world finds itself in.

The State will decide how you find your worth.

There’s only one way in and one way out. I have a perhaps strange philosophy that some give of themselves to one thing to avoid giving to another. A truism? A certainty of knowledge, even, that is uncertainty leads to a type of blindness that you probably will never recover from.

You mistake manner for meaning.

It was meant as a joke, a tease. It tasted venomous.

In search of symmetry.

Identity unbound.
(Sometimes) Pleasure from deconstruction = seeing how the pieces shatter, what remains.

Paper as a lubricant.

The Starbucks Crowd. How to drink coffee. You want to pigeonhole me for your own sanity. Uncharacteristic: not not within me.

Somehow against the black. Making eyes and playing it safe. Take an idea/object/person. What can you do with it?

When does the togetherness fade? Or does it just change shape?

A private half-thought released. It flutters away and then looks back, curious...

To me, thinking involves emotion as well as logic and imagination.

I feel my heart beat in my head, I feel my lungs collapse; subdued.

Is not the blank canvas an artist’s dream?

How much of the world should you know?

Making space (on tables). How do we do that in homes that are not ours, on desks that we do not own?

Love is a little layer of padding.

Success is defeat. Know neither and you will always succeed.

Firebrand.

Knowledge access.

Can I comment with my presence?

Thoughts like glass.

I wake up and I see the sky. It does not matter what the colour, that it is there is enough.

There are things I understand, in the flow of the music. I know how the world talks, not in song or sound or thoughts but in unmoving serenity. Off-centre, spinning mad, nothing seems to faze it, nothing really does. Though we (Man) give it indigestion, it barely pays us notice. It looks to the stars as we look to the stars….

Thought unfinished: (maybe there’s something out there - ).