Wednesday 1 February 2023

No matter what

 The most extraordinary three years of a life. 

And a fine New Years eve.

I wonder if so called 'society' wiull ever be ready to hear a few tales of actually making the best of it, always...

Probably not - "poise and grace" means simply smiling to onesself that one would not have had it any other way, it was damn useful in so many 'cup half full' and 'silver lining' ways. . 

To be continued.

Tuesday 24 January 2023

End of era

 to define.


But 2022 ended, yes, with a smile. A real one.

Thursday 1 December 2022

But just in case


 Put that in your pipe and smoke it, along with the other birds.

especially when there was only ever one. 

But really, there is another gaol she's free from....
And I am in it writing this.

Thanks to Toby.
Proving that some of them.... can be human.

Sunday 30 October 2022

The tooth song

 So, the kairos.


More than any mere 'sin'.


My favourite winter day of the year.


Even if I a sunshine addict.


Awake as always, these 25 years at very early.


I mean that is the thing: the lack of any deeper lexicon or fable is the true death of the mind in that those little chummy phrases like ‘silver lining’ which one worries anyone under about fifty seems now to be only able to communicate in, are nothing.

Without a tale. And it may take decades to condense the tales into some user friendly low attention span few paragraphs, so that...


But hark... the chubby one yesterday as i was telling her about Stevie... 

At last ‘ hope’...

We will have to come back to her.


Anyway the big word is ‘license’ but i shall have to come back to that.


But going there last night, that wasn’t in the plan.


But least i sound like a fruitbat flying through the woods munching nutjobs...

Twenty five years ago as a single parent, requiring the internet of lies and deceit to work....a bit...

Living in the wilds, the signal always so dam slow.

The ‘silver lining’ – but then to see the fruits in the flickering sunrays of it, one has to wait, several decades perhaps, even...


So as to actually use the aforementioned web, then, to then feed my hungry offspring dad would have to be up often at 4am days on end selling his ten thousand books online...GOOD ones...  a proper ‘curated’ collection.

Forget that as the spiritual sloth of this land we knew about then, except when one for years has to (oh woe is me) awake at 4 or 5 because after 7 or 8 the web would slow so, twas unusable...


And that became more than ‘habit’ but, a way of life....


I do so adore this day when my 5am is their 6am and its still so gorgeous quiet but just for a few weeks maybe a few of them have adjusted to my time zone...a bit


But the silver lining one realises over the years is fart far more than just a glimpse at what is good, because when ones whole day is adjusted to being productive from very early.... (by yourn clock) and  almost always unless some monsoon one is out in the UV and IR by ten latest...


You don’t have to bother any more with these rather tired words ‘mental health’ as ...


There is little question about it they are largely the words of a mal adjusted society.....cos awake and be in the light, from when it gets light

You are bulletproof.

Spesh if you’ve had always 8 hrs shut that dark.



And espesh... to walk past her’n and see her ghostly stood there i thought she was dead...


The way we never see her... whilst i have my elevenses.


But hark, what with seeing her again after these four years, and seeing her again last night after twenty, and ....

well t'was thirty ago that she ... by having her bun in the oven adjusted my DNA such that i could never be that 'me' again, and then 2020 i discover i was right

That even with dozens of new birds to chase around the byways on my old bike...

In that most glorious 100 days of forever sunshine that began mid March 20920....


Nevertheless, it started with Matilda...age 10

and ended but began with that N1 ...age 11...

And we ... [we he says i know it was only me, as does little Miss Non Byronic...] even  ended up with an N2...


Some names must be changed to protect the innocent...


Which does not include little Miss Non Byronic sister as we know...

But then shee'n married to Godzilla so she can make any sauciest  joke in the wold that winter, she wants, stood next to me randy as hell as....she knows, and us alone walking them ‘ills together ... putting right the meaning of life and ills of the pathetic society she hookers herself tryin to fix... the wrong she knows.



And now i know.

No, she wouldn't even mind if some fuckwit who hasnt eaten enough fruibats or nutjobs for her'n head to work right, or got enough sleepo, told her..." you know he riffed that year upon you as his NB sis.."?


Because of course with a name like hers. well... She must have a whole ferkin Odd Essay  celebrating what.... next.

She started!


Now, one thing i will not have, being the chattering snotteratti class seem to have ramped up their rewriting of history, is anyone else claim to have been as happy i was as of April 2020...

And mine proof - well i have a LOT, but for now, i never waste money on an URL unless ‘it’ really is somehow working, and important...


and then we had poignant2021 - with no moaning, poignant doesnt mean fucking moan it means you see the woman you have truly valued for 5 years from afar having spent a day with her 5 years ago.... "at last a human !!! rahh rahh... she writes on her wall the word 'poignant' last someone whom can use and relish words rather than fuckwit memes of masks burnin... "  



But if it were not for her coming back in the warm dark...not disturbing me too much...


I wouldn't really be at ultra kairos time

Sunday 2 October 2022

 and because 2020 was the sublimest year in history gone and wasted another tenner on

and because never mind her fuckin dentist still she made me smile so poignantly in 20121...her picture of serge burning his muzzle after "confinement"  i shall also waste another tenner on poignant2021

Only because, though don't tell her - Mrs "poignant" 2022 has become these last few months so midfuckingly endless sublime poignant smiley fun.... it just won't stop so as to allow me time to write about any of them.. So all of it must be one day woven together ...and already is. Even if the first draft extant in my mind. Every moment.

And the only meaning of life the poor sick mindfulnesses goddesses do not sell you as they wouldnt know how is in letting go for just a few months - "journeying from picture top to picture bottom" is just the last  three months of the last  thirty. 

 And never mind three months back mainly thanks to her: half Herr, half...well the other half considers a woman to be half a man... thirty months  ago feels, seems, IS so ridiculously three decades ago....  in feeling no different than just that. 

All of them 'want' to have a life so full they cannot even recall three years ago was it they signed up to Alithea’s mindfulness walks around a public fuckin park... because it worked. But it seems like just like yesterday...  because nothing actually ever happens for them.


kairos time

 Now, thank god for habits

And my great poem about ...well...


Words are one thing but to discover i was telling the truth, too...

That's the biggest 'too' in history.

" when i first encountered you..well i thought what a scraggy little rather dull  hissing thing... even if i rather liked your hisses..."

" but you know what... the way you use words.... i mean ' you look like an adventurer' thats the best word anyone could use about me ever and no one else knows it any more.... even if not quite true but still what adoration you have for words so beyond your mere years....
"and then...  you mean it, you alone mean what you say.... 
"you alone....

"really love to get in there no matter what our feelings are.....and fix stuff..... with such gusto and relish and love for just the job no matter what... . i think you are just ...great...... of course if she could mum would be... dot dot dot...[no not fuckin Dorothy the daughter of the devil poor lamb]... [some things are too sad for even her to twist around into lies and deceit...bout her poor little self]"

But then.

It is all very well being once more as happuy as is humanly possible, even if she just posts adverts about her expensive smile fixer...

But this one, "the 2016" day fuckin after the end of the world: 

Now i not only know how he got Florentino to be so serially randy, but, what sleep is for....[always 7.5 hrs no matter what harridans one meets three times a day]...


I mean who cares if her hair is dyed red.

There is just something about her. 

I have met her before....


 But even her  face fades as the dusk arrives. But to have her so starkly in the minds eye the moment after the 7.5...

But then maybe if we met in a past life, the kairos was on our side because it is only yesterday exactly at that moment... 

One was kairosed to the perfect level of frisson: 

" little toe rag.... confected vulnerability to prostitute upon even....well not you, but all the he's addicted to hookers and Gulfstreams like all the rest...  

"when we last met i was thinking of you all day despite your so superb words about ...well, you too believed in Heidi.../

"because you know i couldnt make up that sincerity...and belief in the sublime  woven into her hair... hers alone..

“ but the toe rag.... i mean the 2016 no not the 2003..

“Silly me

“ he should have hissed and spat... toe rags not spitting about something they say they the problem....

Sunday 4 September 2022

note to self

Which in a way is all i have written for 12 1/2 years...

Except there is in the back of it all the most poignant head fuck of a 'story' there has ever been.

One day i shall indeed get to my Montaigne's collected works.

All of them.

Time enough for all that - Ecclesiastes mode... 


But talk about kairos, today.

If  anyone had said to me even now- not a moment would i have wished differently, i would have said don't be daft. But there is an order of things. And one has to process oneself to be 'ready'. 

For anything, especially nothing.

And there is no better 'feeling' all day - the last day possible, perhaps, in my newly found hillside spot - best prospect -: directly facing the south. And the mast :-)

That only brings their troubles...i have never been frightened of. And in a way have turned into a work of 'art'. And the art is the longer the great sorrow goes on, the less sorrow - far less, and far more, being alive like never before.

Which sounds like one is on drugs.

And that's the point of a very long note to self... seven years of it.

Firstly apart from never having the slightest problem all the rest have  - from the alcohol, never again, to the pills and even more amazing perhaps the continual ups and downs..

My chronicle, i started to show the one person whom no matter what must be loved - which means doing the immensely hard work over these years to keep a record. Of a most constant person. No angst, no downs, and more ups than ever before - more days at 100% than all the rest of life put together the last 3 years...

But love, is... making sure the one person who may feel 'guilty'  -may one ay feel she may somehow be to blame...never....and the best way to ensure that is to make sure there is so much proof that there is nothing to feel guilty ...for...

And Mr Montaigne didn't have my advantage: not only such organisational skills that i never run out of power, or space... never mind a little device that captures every moment of it....for years. Which show incontrovertibly to the lost lamb, there is nothing to ever feel sorry about.

That's love - even the ghost, make sure every day she could know in some decade hence, that he she ghosted so unnecessarily... got on with his life always and so full of life, it surprises even him.


Shame though even the reverend as i call her didn't follow through...none of that would have been necessary f there were just one person who may be witness, to only smiles, always... as she said she would.

But hen there is duel purpose or dual purpose.... what a chronicle it all is - of the real version of life. And her at dawn today you couldn't make it up so perfectly to the script. Of why one must go...forever now.

Hahh hahh backup laptop - this...for some daft reason only the spooks know, doesnt have a spell checker in this same pane we use with the main..

in which may get legible.


And i only wish to make everyone i have ever encountered smile a real smile as i manage every day. Though a belly laugh would yes be better.

note to self #2 get the heck on with it - ten years of fabulous many poignant pics it may blow up the internet. And now is the time...because even the tough times only now are to be smiled at...

and enjoyed as they are relived. Every moment....

hahh hahh got it part 2

but 'it' - is only "universal" .... 

and there are lots more parts.

The real version at last. and never ever think that anyone can impinge of that special Sunday mood that comes now'n again -  and at today's plug how how interesting!

Yanks are taught the great book in school

and from the mouth of such a beautiful yank too.

"if he....[ he says nodding down The Centre's hall] doesnt cry when his daughter makes him read out the last chapter out loud.... as would be the case if she were stood in front of me now demanding exactly that of my rancid old baldie dad.... leave him for a man that does.....I'm in a Phily Mood today so you can take me back home with you hope here..and as we seeem to agree our fucking 'anal sex' ... 'for effect' as you say...rotten defunct old Fleabag... with fancy lipstick doiesnt hide NOTHING to say...has simply nothing on the truest genius with his pen of all time....almost....Master Don..Glover... and his yes take me to Atlanta.... where there may be just one ensemble of sanity left cos only THE pen takes us back from here... oh you agree... the goddesses on their periods are fuckwits unless... I stick my pen up at them and say...sit on this babes.... and i hope it hurts... metap-whore-ically..."

war begins.


Except i never met an enemy worth fighting so maybe it ends. it

 in the 'can' last even if too late.

The one five minutes i would say to anyone.

Who just maybe would be actually content living most of the time..ina  shack in the hills.

but... i am master of doing so with the smallest occasional luxury and relishing every second, of that 'shower'  midwinter once a week in even minus 20..

That's what much of my 'footage' is about. Ever since the year of 1 1/2 bereavements...

Living on with joy in small things. And it's superb... in a way Mister Montaigne could never have dreamed...

But i will put it here later today.

Not that anyone will 'get' it...

Because every woman for years who has spoken with me of wishing to live...BE..radiantly and healthily in the hills a little aside, or on a coast of maybe North Portugal where one can be left alone... just foraging the beach for whatever she brings..

a perfect place to raise a child as planned..once...

healthy close to nature and living in energetic peace...

Never ever has meant what they say.


So nothing, is nothing new...

But they are not 'liars'...

 Liar is is a horrid word.

Hate thy sin not the sinner. And all that.

Simply ...[i never do this..]  early morning call today with Suzy dog-walking ex aid worker; simply has no comprehension that crystal ball gazing via expensive Diamond Approach courses are the exact enemy of rural life being viable.  One  has to (banned word to them) ...judge.... be able to judge: does this potential helpmeet actually LIKE chopping the wood in the mizzle?  And will she still be doing it with me making great jokes as we go a decade on? 

But when all English women have been polluted with this damn pay-as-you go 'spiritual' judgemental fucking nonsense when  spiritual actually means be of good spirit, warmly, always with someone in peace ..of course none of them can find boyfriends any more. Good job i stopped wasting my time on any of them ever again even if must chop mine off...

Because it takes balls to know when there never was any hope. And why..

And that i do know. As Montaigne did before.

It is so sad not to know thineself one smallest bit. Always the best excuse for spouting rubbish to everyone - which matters when a man (sadly only these days as no woman wishes to be what they put on Facebook...and thats just so so lonely...)  a man has agreed to help rebuild the wooden buildings and fences and for pay that no one else would countenance... only to discover as usual their countenance only ever a mask... 

Ads was Andrea's... when we sat by her campfire .. her gang of towny holiday makers and hearing her sing, my sidecick that night asked if she could be guide to her... 

And of course.. bathed in the midsummer firelight and probably a glass or two in her (don't became symbolic poison to them all)  all smiles and people pleasing "of course little lamb...your voice is beautiful too for the untrained... we will guide.." and then never answers her polite follow up email message from us..

That didnt hurt me. But when a woman  - the most innocent sincere lovely young woman ever, discovers she can never for a moment believe a word from her own sex... that really is the END.. As it was hers.

The last time Italians were men...and  maybe in his composition (even if i prefer Ivry Gitlis Bruck...and other such classicals) 

Maybe gorgio did find a little of the Sublime - brave attempt at being new and not caring what others thought - all the way...

Nothing, to begin

Now, even if leftovers lists half a dozen women writers who are just as good, and that matters - therein is the answer to every moaning woman somehow unesteemed, even if we must blame the literature teachers, especially is English:  Wuthering Heights is a masochistic book of nothing, except a woman defining herself by a wonky bloke who makes a bit of money to please her and that doesn't please her.  As she has no idea what would please her.

And i bet that just like every other woman (except one just a  few days ago...why didn't i chase after her - she was friendly ) i have met for a decade - especially the first poor lost lamb, Cathy of The Heights just painted pictures of the hills and nowadays would be instagramming them, rather than often enough getting out in them for actual 'meditation' and actual 'wellness'.

A decade of untruths. PR spin and self deception. Not me..i wear my hills on my heart. 

BUT...  this (post) even if it is the first chapter of the second Homeric phase,  must end. Today was the forecast day. A week ago, simply because today is the day the summer has 'broken'... and an extraordinarily gorgeous summer of little rain - bugger the farmers they're all liars too these days...

in fact a second summer like the most extraordinary one ever - 1976. 

And a real country person lives ONLY to the rhythms of the weather and also light.

And goes to sleep when the light is ober.

BUT... all i know is one thing.

Seven hours over a few nights not quite right.

Things on ones mind - sad ends of eras. A lost lamb who will never return. And no one ever gave a damn - all her supposed gender, i have no idea whom any of them was, but that's not because i haven't tried like no man before, but because they have no idea themselves...  even the well into their sixties ones..of the hills....who lie about their age. Because those lines... dont lie.

To be continued; today. Because despite every one of them...  and knowing full well a man is dead if he has no one to wander the hills with hand in hand, or just spend some of the time collecting the wood together... laughing at all the lies..

there is no hope. But i knew that ten years ago and a fool,  just like Odysseus, there is only the bed..

as long as the nails one must lie on are well rounded at the tips.

But then a countryman never goes anywhere without his scythe

and grindstone.

But what a 'silver lining' side effect. Bed built, indeed maybe that is the correct figure of speech - i never recall the difference between allegory and metaphor...  it is time to lie on it, free, because there are many dotts to join up. For instance the terrible evil crimes that i was pointing at two years ago in the pic above...

I think i have here gone tangential... started a point and left off having woven some other hangmans rope for myself.. That will never be used... surviving them all.

Yes, Mister Bernhardhis Extinction. Maybe the very best... but many women have written just as well but always seem to leave off the final line of any truth...  that lies truly do take the human out of the human. Thomas B sort of doesn't...

But my truth i hate photos of myself to be anywhere really... and the passage in Extinction about TBs true visceral disgust at the photo taking masses... must be one of the most pre holocaust juicy bits of holocaust lit...being as i think all these photos..lies... smiles when they are only painted


so it is time for me to begin. If i can be bothered.

And that silver lining - i have no fear of being found, now.. because the best way to end all fear is to hand out the weapons to someone you cannot trust...seemingly ever.

But that desn't matter. Even if against my own 'interests'  - one goes to bed weary of them all... and sometimes justa  little negative and fearful if a long fine day

Saturday 3 September 2022

But the beginning of nothing


i need to get back to this

But i don't ever interact with a  screen at night, or in fact after lunchtime..

a good film is different..its not 'interaction' even if one is interacting with a hologram... after hours.


But i need to get back to this only this. And when i operate. No one else. 

And as the autumn weather hasn't started me it is still the last day of summer.

And thus i write in my stilted rushed way of the summer as the winter is for poetry.

Summer is for living poetically.

Now these last two images are about the most parable like evocative i have ever taken in years of many lovely images coming to me - so so enhanced by the worst of losses 13 years ago.

It is as if i look through a zoom lense and the most fabulously vibrant filter. Only since then.

And i never play with images. Never would dream of cropping or enhancing. Lfe is too short ot to know onesself what is in the image at the time. And all photoshop a waste of time, which could be used for more evocative image taking.

This however is cropped. It is about what is in the other half of the picture. That so perfectly shows the way i will live the rest of my life n matter what. Or whom..

BUt then,the problem with pictures is often they are part of something else and without hat something else they look nothing

These are only 'for' a recording.

A nine minutes that simply made itself up as i spoke.

And i think it is the best word picture i have ever spoken.

But it is only for one person, only 'inspired' ... 

challenged is a better word.

If you think someone is important challenge them

(to be their 'bestest' self, obviously duhh..)

we only really challenge those we love or at least really value.

And the best of challenges,  is knowing what to say. Though to many mute it is the worst of hurdles.

And i have never raised to that challenge so well.

Ever a long way.

I think my metaphor or word picture today is about as good as they get.

But what are mere words...

there are only ever what next


The end times

 To be filled in soon.

A day starting on a train

i wouldnt normally but...

the reason to leave England forever

children with dyed hair at five

fizzy pop at 7am

and all the children now only ever on games in little screens...


at 7am..

there is no humanity left in these lands


four quid 
i'm such a good shopper its daft

And then

to be continued

the perfect hat at last
well she said so...but i am not sure i can believe her..
so English...

and she never tells me her stories, despite her exheadship of children...
 so i can ever know who she is..really.


Wednesday 31 August 2022


maybe this day this will be recycled too, for someone who gets it

and all that matters so as to enjoy life...even with a nipper in tow...towing you back to being a REAL ooman
not that any Brit seems to even want that.
So we are off....

 even little one couldnt respect my wishes for my new name she asked a decade ago "Heath..i so hate Simon"

And tomorrow it will be Ralph, only, forever....

because he seemed to be the only adult i ever met in UK who truly did cherish everything of having a kid under your wing...a lot. For years.

and i have no idea of any other cos no one seems to know who they are... well, bully for me i do.

Just a new picture i like maybe one day i shall show or at least leave behind for the one i always have a duty to find good culture for, no matter what.

the la rochelle

the story

And that story was a man - typical effete dilettante man...

who had done everything by about 35...everything...

one day 22 years ago is sat in a restaurant in La Rochelle alone there with 2 year old lass...on one of their many campervan roamings her and him...only for her - to see that world.

So so enjoying what to come that despite it being overrated as food, a plate of Fruits De Mere ! we will have as she will learn about food... her eyes will pop out at the plate of popped out eyes..

But then  there are tantrums.

And awaiting half an hour our plat...

"oh woe is me... we are ruining their sunday lunch all the families so happy...if England all would be staring at us... grimacing..... here they don't, but they do mind.....what a racket...leather lungs... "

but then it only took just a few minutes of picking her up and gently pacing around out front show her the seagulls show her other distractions and before you knowit a smiley 2 year old ...

and a bit of ingenuity "can we please move to that table ext to the fishtank.?...sorry to inconvenience..." in bad frog

More distraction so interesting.

But the look five minutes later  from the elegant Frog mum ... her look at made life worth living like no Playgirl on crack in Antigua,  enjoying the crack with you all birds eye view of The Matterhorn from me driving alone beside it.... none of it....even the first time making love with Andrea, total true love of my 20s.... 

her look, that said only "mister.......shes lovely and........well done... you did it.... that takes a good heart in the right place..i saw you...."

made all of life worth all of it...always..

And is the only skill there is to learn or  teach other fucker around to care...

Though there are may better...stories.

especially the razor ones..

in audio

And i want to go to Bolivia for selfish reasons too...

in audio

and i will ....with someone!

and being a dad 3c god only knows if ANYone can ever have coherent communications... which go "yes i saw that, i have a QUESTION?..."

or "yes is saw that and i think you are biggest jerk in the universe, BECAUSE.."

And there seems to never again be any possibility of, pong ping ....coherent communication in any game 

But as it is 2022 not ferkin the year 632 when Allah is said to have 'died'...

video is the way to at least try and communicate certain things from beyond the grave i guess 

so i set to waffling about some things maybe can help other generations .... 

and i will in time put ALL my links - many are

because it is time to decloak - what a fag when to sort of hide some of what you do from others who you may like to do this and that with you have to wear different hats or have diferent email accounts...

cos they just assume

I guess when you are ready to just say fuckit io know i never did any bad - for at least a decade or more....tried best... some ok stuff

thats when you are ready to become a grandad...

A summary

 Because only this morning is it clear what i lost my path into saying

It is in fact all quite simple.

In 2020 - their 'pandemic' i ignored all their death talk and started to loive like never before. 2020 was the happiest and most evolving year of my life by far, excepting the large amount of time the last 30 years - about half my waking hours, i have been in the presence of a child... as carer, or for a few years co cocarer.

In fact

as she knows was 'insoired' by only o"ne person - the first person i spied who wasnt like me and my sort of loose gang, who wished to be aside pandemic silliness, The Sprout - she had played their game i had seen, 2020... on her dreadful FAcebook talking of "confinement" - sounds like a gaol was of course... 

Then one day she wrote a word  - new..on her wall...  "poignant" 

And it seemed to indicate she had liberated herself.

But also it came as i was liberating myself.

Long planned giving up an 8 year tenancy at a glorious old place Byron had spent his last summer in the UK ever ion the grounds of... 

it was time to pack. A year ago.

And also long planned, get out of my store every single item of my daughter's childhood with me - every small plastic bauble still boxed up - get every item out and photograph them. Poignantly..

As only one thing. A celebration of it was the best of life by far, no matter what. And that every item still carries with is a story. A life, indeed..

And i did it. Though have not yet the time and plug to do what always intended: recycle it all into something beautiful. And as poignant as you can get...if i can.

And it didn't hurt as i am the luckiest person in the world, i know what matters. And have always believed in it. 

And then 2022 comes along and is started with one woman who lets me smile. Even if only in my emails her way...

And we are now comrades..

She wishes "cameraderie"  just the other day..

... i wonder if...

It doesn't matter what the future holds - exactly. That also is why she was maybe the finest of them all. Grace is humorous respect, mutually... always..if we were partly on the same page.

SO what next?

Je ne sait pas.

as it takes two to tango.

BUt i will carry on in fact START writing this. As it is as good as that book....ehh i forget...og yes Rachels Mars Room...

she has her heroine walking out into the light and....

Mine is the opposite...its walking out into the light and knowing i won the war and the battles are irrelevant, as i shall always smile at the gunship a hovering...

Because i earned the right to. 

Monday 29 August 2022

what is being a dad part 3a (there will have to be a 'b' too)

 Well it is TRYING.... 

to say 'something'...

despite the emabarassment...

Indeed a few years ago i knew one thing, all these hustlers and their schemes.... pretending to care about t'environmet and all that.... 

people pleasing...

may as well be Telletubbies.


One has to at least 'leave' some fairly accurate record of who one was. 

For a lass lost.


lassoed by the same ol' Military Industrial Complex


who added in to their cannon

I call The Monolith

Public relations,. media spin and spin..and big Farma and small penises requiring big cars and bigger planes and bigger everything to compensate...

which was named a decade ago by me, after my mother's cos she may as well have eaten her young too...

Anyway trying to say 'something'.

One ends up with a  few stages. 

Being careful: "hmmm... that may upset her; seeing that he may wish to kill me.."

SO one ends up forgetting ones own woven web which is only ever centred in one place - healthy psychological environments for nippers..and grown up nippers, who maybe havent quite grown up as much as the old fashioned standard model, too....

and here we have some recent video waffling

ALL about that same one thing deep down

And assuming makes an ASS out of U


I know what i am about.

And the mistakes i have made.

And one, i still believe was not, one of them...

Anyway one day i shall weave together all the threads and i know i dont need any reskeining

cos i did it

ANyway that channel - one of about 3 or 4 i have 

STILL hasnt uploaded one of ME chopping my wood

we have (so unfriendly!) 


we interviewed but what is the point....

selfish and sharp elbowed even the modern day Woodlanders...

(and thats a fuckin compliment as t was Hardy's best book by far...but no all modern day even Woodlanders just assume and spit...)

oh here it is 

all a chap wants is a film of im chopping wood to pass on to a daughter...impossible to get any help in atomised and fearful uk.... thine funeral.

most important thing os all... airing your linnen. There is no better smell in the world even The Carlton Cannes couldnt match with ever parfum ever invented 

talking of funerals

but then...(this aint part 3 yet ...i must ramble on) 

Rural ... Ralph... see weaving all, all the finest books in the world - Woodlanders, Mars Room, Silas.... Extinction...
They simply cannot show anyone the only thing that defines us. 
Mr Taleb's Black Swan.
So beautifully put by him, in allegory sublime...

That it is impossible to know - no matter how much money you pay to modern day witchdoctors and snake oild vendors,  otherwise known as counsellors and Mindfulness gurus... even if they are usually esses...
Until the event happens. Or you get into 'bed' with him.... you can never know how you will feel. 
It is impossible.

But cos no one reads an good fuckin books any more...bimbo crap on what someone has on their menu... or other such crap..No one can know this any more. Because Taleb made one mistake only: his genius allegory needed a REAL story..a human melodrama  for him to tell it best.....
And thus no matter how bored one is of the hustlers even if these days usually esses, and their schemes...or usually dreams they pretend are schemes..
I shall write or finish mine.... its the ultimate Black swan ... events.... hahh hahhh... for twenty glorious years of hell
I would not have one second of it any other way.
Which Plato and Aristotle failed o discover as the actual meaning of happiness - or rather centredness and useful purpose. So so so much better a thing than their decadent "happiness" i know cos i am happy every day no matter what..

Now on being a dad part 3


dont lie even when you should.

hopping over:
 which of curse even the reverend said she would speak about over a cuppa... then goes weird
despite being offered for free NO STRINGS several grands worth of furniture for her self pitying death cult of a Christian church
her knowing full well i am off from this sceptic shopping Aisle 
cos she has sen much of Heidi and even her Euroland  predecessor 
i share my best things.
Cos thats human.
Being human.

So yes... at the 

"write her a song and perform it.."
" yes..look i believe in the magic and at least you have suggested something everyone else runs away crying.... but i wont have time..i must must stop and be me again i already been someone else far too long...."

thioughbubble that evening: "hmm... i must not be me - i must do what she matter how daft... i have tried quite good poetry even though not The Ring yet ... hang on... that utter genius song...  rude lady doesnt answer texts after being so friendly in people too! ... she told by super musos of my acquaint she is genius and has it and they will help.... no answer .. fucker... thats what finding 'god' a few years later does i guess. turns you inhuman.... if i used it ... no one would ever know...she is now a lost cause... i could... yes do it... ' all's fair in love and war' as they say.... "

see blogger a youtube product cannot find it now

"no one would ever know..."

but then....
"but then....i would ... and i would now it was wrong...
" song" 
maybe thats what a dad would know?
SO long since i been one 
what would i know.

But i do know one thing.
if you respect THEIR environment..
those whom
spawn matter what vile and seditious circumstances surround you
Look after their future

And most ofthese books are crap

Nothing tells you that always believe and never ever take it personally and to heart
and winning is every day for 13 years a remnder.
And not running away from any pain ever.


you end up with this
another generation who ruined my last eight years in paradise
until the next generation come along
who no longer even know that a gate to
the goatfield
(next to my front door aside public lands - peopled by people who love there too)
must be closed

as if you dont 
get hurt
not you.