The Dalai Lama..

..sounds like Yoda.

I wonder if he was an influence for the character? How likely do you think that is.

I'm getting bored of football. Who would have seen that coming? It's just a phase, I'll be glued to the TV come Sunday (well...early Monday here) for another ignominious show of futile effort no doubt.

Train yourself to the world

An old one, which there are parts to that I really like
..
Colours seem to mean
something to me
as people nose around
people's constant frown
.
Tourists take their place
many a different face

But I'll just pass the time
.
Cos I'm going
on a journey
a long, long journey
it seems

Cos I've been going
for a while
in my dreams
.

Coffee, papers, ipod players
writers, chavs and all the like
yawns and show-offs, nerds and dreadlocks
a culture so divine...

Cos I'm havin'
a something moment
a dream like no other
sees
and I'm showin'
a lot of nothin'
to these people I see

Papers, trainers, big time players
nothing's for free
rip-offs, drop-offs, juvenile stand-offs
headphones and a place to be

Cos I'm seein'
a better place
a hard, hard, place
to be
but it's been comin
all the time
my stop, you see?

God there's some depressing stuff in these pages, am I really that unhappy a person? I don't feel like it, but everything I've written seems to be a bit glum..

It all goes back for years though, I just saw a note in back pages from my FNB days. Some 5/6 years ago.

tbc..

Back in the cloud I expect..

Listen to the raindrops
Fear the storm
Feel the summer sun
Feel the warmth
Listen to my begging voice
Hear the pain
Listen to my heart beat
It doesn't beat the same.
..
Unfortunately this has a slight feeling of that finger down throat vomit making gesture about it. Might be the end part. It's all a learning process.

Jump

So today is another unproductive lazy day. How many of those have there been.

I really shouldn't be waiting around for the weekend and to go on the piss with Dave, I'm wasting travelling time, but I'm also here to have a good time and a night out is often my medium.

I've got plenty of time left and I did do the skydive yesterday. That was fun. Expensive but fun.

It's one of those things I'd have loved to have done again almost straight away to remember vividly how it had been the first time and to take things in a little more. I think you get a sensory overload and don't really look around or stop to take in what's actually happening to you.

Your ears go really fucked for a few seconds until you depressurise and although I quite like the idea of doing a solo jump, the whole idea of controlling the parachute down to the ground seems quite imtimidating. More so than the actual idea of freefalling alone.

Today I may visit the gondola and do the luge or something. I must get out. Ooh.....I need the barnet chopped too.

Dalai Lama is on telly. I must read up some more on Buddhism. I should really read up on all religions. Maybe I should just read a little more.

Ignore the ramblings that I'm randomly posting, I have writings from years back in one notebook and I'm just getting them on here to preserve them. The ones that I think have potential anyway - I want to use them for more constructed ideas in the future and the more I do it I think the better I get at patterning and stuff....

Anyways...

Untitled. Old.

How can a creature of routine
ever be free
Scuttling with the rats
always a busy bee

I like to smile
and hold my head high
I'm not one of you
You won't wonder why

It all looks grey, until I see a streetlight
A gentle reminder, it's just a reminder

So now she knows, once again
That she has to rule the man

Let me begin..

Last week on a bus...hopefully my resolve sticks.

My mind is swimming with thoughts.

Thoughts of striving to change.

Anger at the Japanese and junta. Desire to walk the streets in protest or sit on a boat risking my life.

Disgust at the garments I've let adorn my person.

A sudden interest in abstract colour.

And...an unexpected, but perhaps inevitable, homesickness.

Regret at not making the most of my world.

And maybe my mind.

Foetus Sky

Candyfloss reflection,
tickles light into my mind.

Another hope - inherent chaos,
one more chance to realign.

Accept that it will slip away
for the living always die...
and rejoice your disposition,
for the unborn never lie.

The birth, the death, and the often forgotten life,
await this foetus sky.

When you only have 7 minutes...

If you're one of the people who works near St Paul's, at some point this winter as the mornings start to get darker, make your journey in early so it's still dark when you arrive.

Exit the station via the stairs on the right to go towards Cheapside. As you come out of the station look to the right.

St Paul's will be lit in all its glory. And outside the bank on the corner (Lloyds) there is a tree that will be lit up with little Christmas lights.

How many times I've made that walk and never looked at the amazing things around me.

Sometimes you have to wake up and have a look around. Be a human not a rat.

The world is a wonderful place. Live in it. Not just on it.

A change of direction..

Yeah, so originally this blog was meant to be about my travels and what I've been up to, but it just doesn't seem to be happening.

I'll update one day with what's happened since the Badger left London (I have drafted a Pamplona summary - beware Horse), but for now I just feel like emptying my head on a daily basis.

I'm feeling quite creative at the moment, and have been feeling changes happening to me which don't involve new hairs.

I think anyone who reads this is about to get an insight into my mind and the rather strange things that seem to happen there...

And so it begins...

In March 2006, four men descended upon the United States of America.

Their mission: To make it from Chicago to Los Angeles on Route 66 alive.

Armed with two fat competitive egos, one very bald head, a Tahitian Gold Prince who wanted to see everything (well he DID conceptualise the fucking trip!!) and four stupid fucking cowboy hats. No-one could have prepared them for the adventure that entailed....

(just for the record they also had an SUV, loads of dosh, a Satellite Navigation System, mobile phones, and pretty much everything they needed)

It was at a blues bar in St Louis that the four were truly born.

One of them rocked the place, one of them doesn't remember the place, and the other two did nothing of note apart from talk about themselves a lot.

Unremarkable to all but one man:

John T. Vermillion

Standing at 8 feet tall with a chest circumference of 80 inches, he had hands that could crush a human head like scrunching up paper and was descended from a family that rode with Wyatt Earp.

He was a monster of a man, but he liked what he saw. Like a bear who plays with his prey, he picked at them. He questioned and he observed - these were no ordinary men - and they needed to be recognised as no ordinary men.

And so it was, with his perceptions of character that he Christened the four according to their attributes:

Stringer - for a blues performance that would have made Robert Johnson Proud

Texas Dave Macoo - legend unknown

Horse - legend unknown (drunkelnly forgotten), but many have speculated that this was related to his large err... 'frame' and for being really, really, fucking stubborn

Badger - for being a small but vicious/fearless (stupid) little shit and wrestling his beer back off the great John T. Vermillion when the great man picked it up from the bar by accident. The big fat arsehole. It was a battle of pathepic (read that as you will) proportions.

Life was never the same again. They even changed the names as they appeared in their phones.

Some weeks later the boys (now men) left the USA. Some were richer, some were poorer, but all just a little bit wiser to the world.

And so the legend goes that they went back to their lives, and back to their identities.

But the legend lies.

The Badger is back!

And here's what happened next......