A rebel without a clue.

How does this great thing keep happening whenever I become now? Truly their still exists the kindness of strangers. From Julia at a crossroads stood next to the Town Hall to four plus I in Starbucks(not for coffee but just to keep warm) and Julia brought me here as there seemed no where to go apart from Ibis, etc where I would have missed the true Germany. Wow I was there for just one reason - to meet a mother whom probably always put her precious cargo first so could incorporate my loose organisation. Julia, enjoy tonight your trip to the theatre with your son - I hope you realise how true your mother is? Gerd, whom finally let me rest after an afternoon of culture and photos and walking me round and passed the start of Christmas Eves Pilgerweg. Beyenburg with it's dam and deep hillsides reminds me of what my feet might really fear if I don't double my socks and walk without fear. An excited man whom gives you every warmth. And a woman who cared so much to see how it all f...

Did what I could with those pieces of eight I'd been waiting to see, in fear they would never be enough for all my needs, and now I have got my stuff together I'm off to the Bahnhof via Molepoort and the Ratthaus. Bye Nijmegen and your untroubled soul. It is back too weak for the many. Must quickly see Venlo the town of the incident William  Boyd's Restless where the SIS got trapped, framed etc - double double agent. My alarm didn't go off but that isn't relevant. Brisk walk, €10.50 into Limburg, with a kerstkoek and coffee. Time is such a slave master. Last night I realised all decisions have ceased being made by people but often it is people that suffer when any analysis abandons people for the whimsical system and its brutal demands. If the money was in a bottomless pit I would continue to Le Puy-en-Velay from the east and perhaps relive the uniqueness of the French Camino once more. But I cannot walk so far nor so fast and I would put a gun against my temple s...

Followed a path under the railway that crosses the Waal downstream from the bridge that proved so well built the Nazi's couldn't blow it up before retreating and here is the flea market turn right and you meet a Honig factory and prior to the new bridge that helps ease traffic. For two euros there is a different sort of museum. Very Kitchen and past tense. Julio Iglesias  and Tommy glued to one another. Christmas tat, fat pork sausages in a bun and ice skates hungup while the faux King gives us a burst of Christmas pre-1977. There is a regressive stride which all adult present upon a Sunday in a carboot/flea market which is the dance of the dying indeed. Why did I come here expecting something else? I shall for another .50¢ leave my load and head back along the Waal. Just time to turn about the back of the Saint Stephen Kerken and pick up Gozleme for after noon tea. Off to brew a green tea and relax Sunday out.

That was an experiment really. Rarely do I write in a style that sexual or suggestive in character; usually I would find the form of narrative troubling or exposing too much flesh to the circus. But I managed it without blushing too much and I might have taught someone a word they didn't ever hear before. When I came home after the brilliant three course meal in the Klinker Joep' gf and another guy were finding dutch terms of abuse - I recall dog whore(lots of whore) but I hoped to find fecund or its counterpart (it stemming from fecundus) but I didn't. The holiday is over. I need to move on and achieve this other end so the narrative will be less frenzied and egocentric. Once it was out of the box there was no other way for Saturday to end. Today is reliably here and should be a dreadful paranoid and sleeplessly fitting one: I often see this same coming to me as Alcohol departs. The last distorted me vanishes as I begin another pilgrimage by a visit to Sint Jacobskapel ...

This truly is the end and it makes me moved to know I am not alone in this mode. Say sorry and say hello Manuel I promise I will reference the Eythopian country as soon as I can dig out the fibres hidden in my wake. Back to family name Samson for Christoffel bok. Texels is so far my favourite Dutch whipme. What is fecund? Ho me oh art thou the most wonderful lozenge? A sweet to suck into a submission of white pillows I play with like sand, cream, swirling clouds so massive and youthful, Krausen of cauliflower, white cells, Bloom of Yorkshire flower erect and troubling for my sanity. Yes yes yes. You could swarm me in this black, brown, red, blonde, white boned sumptuous frame. Satisfied I would quit to Germany without my sack so subtle yet so Duchessly clean. But these seldom balls are unlikely to be rendered that; my fat would slide and be spat at. I could collude explain then I should depart because wenches have to give it all unless my seed is appraised on this spot; as a solitary ...

And this will be my afternoon completion. Hello Evelien I too can feel you every moment I breath in/out forever I will smile now at what is and what will always be. Too; to all I have known along this  road I am truly not as alone as my solitary travel must suggest. Like tendrils searching a source back to my heart beating please. A kiss a kiss is sustanance in me; as I devour each freely given glee I will not forget anyone of thee. Demanding more of Hemel's finest beer; the leaves have fallen but earth is so alive. Spicy touches linger over a tongue rarely so smiling. Every bit grasps and holds a moments urgent thrust - it must end but that is also a way. Back into the book(The Ginger Man) I leave my stylus next to inkwell never to be a blot.

Antique clock Gillette & Johnston of Croydon turns us to four chimes and I recall that at eight I was meant to wash beyond sink and step up to shower and sing hurrah as my wiener is cleaner than my mother's tongue. Time there is prior to seven to pamper an essence away and scratch the oils to the sewer with hair and suds never redeemed. What bother Mariken is brought to me and Cupid dances for a malty beverage. The vein of my blood flowing into this scroll (app) has me happy to be bold and true and behold behaviour beginning this end; beer preserve us - I am not alone even if this bar suggests a vacant stool (Dan Laythorpe should be here still). Who would condemn me to death if I wasn't this way and shrank off this mortal path smiling at a similitude to corps now renounced along his way. Cheers Dan. And I haven't been to a party in years!

Left after meeting Joep's English mischief and I do play with conker/concur in feeling I know this face from a dream. Black cherries and cream. Some one that would read a short passage and make me smile at her laughing. Joy to make me feel this word game isn't just me me me. Chapter sixteen is lingering long and I thought I knew I would leave Samson accomplishing that section. On the beach of Magnetic Island(QLD) I can remember a Northern Ireland sweetness hidden bare breasted amongst dunes 1999, as I was in the last throws of Once and Future King. Did fondle her as my manhood rose and I knew there was a reason she was at my feet when the books last page was eclipsed by my seed steaming over her white volcanoes. When next I saw her on Bondi Beach I wanted the same again but I felt undone sharing a mixed dorm, when chance could repeat, and quantities of vodka made me vulgar and pressing, desperate, writhing and too hands on in full glare of peers and leering perverts. This girl...

Only one sock. Laughing to myself I was hopping mad (silly billy) in Barbarossa Hostel on Antoniusplaats. Markt Stall. Bartering a la L.O.B. two pairs of merino calf length and he gave me another pair even though I did not want or need. Left stall holder ministry of one legged walks - Cleese I became. Love this Nijmegen everyone so happy not overcome. The Staat newest album is I_Con. It is en route to 42. It is Saturday which is a Vinylday I think it is my only link to commerce. And I am in The Klinker (the stones) brew up Groene thee listening to Grimes. Who are this electro pop synth band. Nonja the dog blends with avant-garde screen prints. A collective. Booked for dinner at seven bells. Three courses for six euros. When the world implodes on itself maybe a few cities will linger as the explosion fades into darkness. Another thee then Saint Jacob's Chapel.

No you don't need to just pretend for anyone and I know a child is all you're together for: no option but conforming to a church bell; marriage. Two amazing twenty one year olds for whom my flesh was searing. Claudia etc. Samson is a fantasy in Nijmegen I was unprepared for tonight even when Evelien took me there beyond hope. Last night I never managed to source the Hemel but a brew of theirs is propping me up next to these fine breasts upon a sloping stool. The Waal is just over there so its water will clean away every sweat I've kept to myself since Leeds. I came here to finish and to understand it, will I? As I lay warm and cosy in this new clean bed it becomes obvious I now need to look beyond the rigid structures of my ways. We can do anything; I will do anything and give even if/where I don't receive. This time I am on holiday - I think that's the word. Travelling for me seems a form of occupation and isn't a break from the normality. It seems to me th...

There's are so many late arrivals and early departures when backpacking that I should wonder how often relaxation is found or even whether it is sought. Belgian fast food snacks? No more. A stern reminder for the remainder of this exposition. The short term lust is nothing next longer dedication to self preservation. Had a dream of having to awake for work at five forty five even though my contract had ceased. Now as I relieve my self I discover it was some phantom playing hand card tricks within those ebony corridors that are my thoughts. Eblutions and a dry bath now I've hopped over to catch a train to Ieper(Ypres) apparently it is worth seeing. The girl on the counter was large with child yet pale white to be suckled and devoured. European beer rarely gives me headaches with a hangover. 9:31 to Kortkijk blue skies from horizon to horizon. Similar blank faced commuters with iPod, iPad, Metro, Macbook unable to escape to work or college. Four days until the brat was born wh...

Vanishing into booze is the only answer. Truly. Tomorrow I seek those graves where men have made red earth since the very earliest head crushing, pole punctuating and head bleeding violent nonsense: how did this? Bruges isn't always but it is mostly. Fickle me with bust nor quim left to feister release before a cold cold front touches those regions as yet free of wool. In the Monks Arse I finally resolve a local to provide me Pannepot. Bliss but it took me all night to find this malt sock. Three black stairs undid me and I tripped like a triple bastard fool into a urinal waiting for the laughter and the abuse but this was imagined in the fall. I was brought up to think all fast food was always the same (pasty or sausage roll, fish or chips) but I am sure Belgium did early as theirs is soberly esteemed. Tried a local taste and can't understand the speed with which they seek to deliver frozen chips! Gentle-creatures on a bike so you must dodge them like straight rain drops....

It really is true: that there is no overwhelming eulogized self discovery by going anywhere beyond a closed eye. It is all an illusion; it seems like a road to nowhere. But maybe this is because I forever seem to lack another companion with whom to see the way clearly? Am I seeking empathy in society for how bewildered my mind is by this so called reality from dawn until dusk putting us to a yoke and capstan. The alchemist does find his other self and does return to the origin of his journey complete and resolved. Perhaps this is not exclusive to the fiction within a novel and millions of people only need and need each an other; I often wondered what 'my other half meant'. Ah, sweet Bruges! I knew I would be tangled up here. My soul doesn't need what my head must have. If I was able to cut my body into two distinct selves to set it free I would be absolutely happy, but because these two dichotomy's are polar extremes there will be anything other than separation until o...

If we removed the mobile phone(with limited battery life), mobile internet or strategically hidden tourist information from our world we would be required to ask people where things were: society would be lost. You could ask a local and he might send you in the direction counter to Old Dover Road and then find two gentlemen in the old pilgrims hospital would say you're miles away from where you need to be. Like a burke couldn't decide whom was telling me the truth. Eventually I gave this all up for went back to Caffé Nero, and its access point to our matrix, to discover the older chaps were correct and the young talkative git was literally talking out of his arse pipe. Kingly cleaned at Kipps on Nunnery Fields Lane(40) is what I needed to find away from London and its mental blank faced tedium and very very far away from god awful Gillingham: add this to a list of Shitetowns if ever you compile them Daniel: golzeme was an edible grace and national rail guys helped me vacate sp...

The Burg/Haus beautiful but the corporate crap littered about it means nothing to me. Slaves from/to China selling waffles, phoney dog pooh, chocolate and lace. Banana and Smoothie from a supermarkt just to keep me balanced and allow me to work this bad back ache out. Via Ypres I'm heading to Nijmegen. Once I am remunerated on 23rd I will walk because I might need woollen clothes to unbridle my passions. Brugse Zot De Halve Maan is my goal this mid morning. In 'I love Coffee' the proprietor blends and roasts himself without a smirk(though the concept is boxfresh and cleansed to deeply); the amount of caffeine in coffee beans is said to be the same whether green, brown or roasted. The coffee was necessary yet maybe not too crème. On Sint Jakobsstraat I find mention of pilgrims GR 5A and felt another tear forming, but this time the door is locked. Found you. So a bit of mindless walking listening impromptu to ACIM brought me to Walplein and a follower leading me. When in...

It was simple to cross the remainder of Kent and plunge into the cold channel then I forgot the sheer size of Europe in my blind haste and waiting with illegal immigrants to thumb a lift, with a hand drawn sign for 'Bruges' on one of the main sliproads onto roads leading to Dunkirk. I waited until the sun began to sink, then i began fretting when a number of guys kept checking me out: dog eats dog when you must reach England(what hope we must give those) and then galloped the full length of the port(massive), passed a town of refugee tents freezing in the wind, on through slightly interesting Calais, hotel du ville, lighthouse and old tower on place Du fontain and to le gare where I currently want to be in Bruges not Lille(twice I have been drawn bewildered in France to Lille(then I feared a park bench would need house me). I am fond of these challenges. Where would I be if I didn't seek confused moments: Hell. This is better and reminds me utterly of my trip to Put en Vela...

A slim book referring hungry pilgrims to the best kebabs in the world. I suppose it has been done? But I took a recommendation from two locals, after I'd wondered about the Cathedral Precinct, as I knew I hadn't eaten, don't have much money and still wanted to eat out at my convenience. Westgate Kebab is an excellent suggestion for a very large protein product. The Unicorn is where I then went : bronze Camra award means zilch in my book. Sharp's Doombar, Timothy Taylor's aren't cutting edge of real ale. Maybe this was true many years ago. Saw a font Whitbread best bitter and thought what next Stone's or Watney's? Over the lines on the left. Back to brew pub 'the Foundry' young but has promise if the hops can be better drawn out. Highlight was a light Blackcurrant Porter(they called it Stout but wasn't) and Punch IPA was excellent. Four halves back to Kipps to discuss the meaning of life over Canadian pancakes and Romanian 'milky-way' ...

Dreamy room 101 for the evening alone until around midnight when in a rush another rustled about. Breakfast and chat with Beverley. If that was my room 101 how come I was put in this too? 8:10 on to the Thames Path. Ubiquitous a joggers. Full stomach passed blind alleys and straddled occupied habitations. Dodging puddles as number one and Citibank stand vertically watching my bypassing their guilts and the tide is shortened upon this once oozing Thames. Through arches and passing private estates which prevent a view within breathing breaking space of its majestic flowing. Without the Thames what is London but another toxic city? Commuters await in unclean bodies cleansed in or cycled London cisterns. This time I walk on a right bank passing cannonades, flag poles, anchors and fully shortened paths. Grimly a jogger wipes sweaty brow on childish swings. Occupations take away my view as I arrive at Surrey Docks urban Farm. Echoes of a previous walk to Deptford at the hub of ancient dock...

Sunday 15th. Work is done. Work's Christmas party is done. Silly hats and dancing loonies have been boxed away for another year. Bla Bla Car I am heading to London at seven this evening(£16) and from there... I know not what I am doing. However I do know that the last four months picking and packing in a blasted warehouse have left me more inclined to drink heavily whenever the moment allows. The twin poisons of the working and alcohol environments are something my mind and body shouldn't require ever. The warmth of both money and booze has always been a trap into which I cannot easily escape; even if I can stare at this other me from the sides and wonder why this addiction is at all. Yesterday I was bitten by a puppy. He was playing and caught my nose. Yesterday I had a very bad cramp on my left thigh. It has to happen whenever I am about to set off. My actions became unstuck. A large yawning took my body. Something in that mix of party frolics undid me. But I am better fo...

And it is done. Four final days at Mosaic FS and I thank them for providing me with employment. Although I set off with high expectations of paying off what I had accrued this summer I found myself unable to detach from consumerism on my off days. The futility of the role (not the persons fulfilling their roles) picking Christmas and packing it in such menacing quantities to make me wonder what use are the 'things' China and the rest make for us Western gluttons. The decision I have made to continue walking in Germany, following Patrick Leigh Fermor again up the Rhine; just how will I manage this without flying and without expense? This is a quest to end 2013's saga. Good is sure to come eventually as a consequence of my actions - cause and effect.

https://www.evernote.com/shard/s315/sh/6e00ddc7-ad57-475c-9752-6acbc4ae95b9/2486056660b28f4a36811dbc6ad08b3d Wednesday morning was tough. Although I have tried to overlook the infection irritating my ear the last couple of weeks and continue in the noisy dirty environment - which has been my abode of sufferance since twenty first of August - something subtle snapped in that damaging situation and, like an overly coiled spring, I lost control being unable to negate this disharmony (previously I had been redirecting or eluding my inner voice by feeding it a A Course in Miracles and The Power of NOW when my mind struggled against the toxins thrust upon me by Heart, Kerrang! or Radio Two from seven until six); I was insane. My previously helpless, fearful, judgemental and intolerant persona was watching and reaching to pull itself beyond my own control again. In a wave of self revulsion I decided I must escape forthwith from another peace-less doom and allow my physical difficulties remed...

https://www.evernote.com/shard/s315/sh/4663b598-1d81-4c31-a824-b39ff2cd70a3/a574861373d2d36b27201a96087cdac7 (Aside 1) A packet of biscuits later I am into a usual routine. Sure I'll sleep very well after a Stowford Press or two or three. The skies above Wetherby High School are Gun-boat gray and this torrent has persisted since I arrived on the 561 around noon. Doves pictured against the hull of this masterpiece follow the breaks above the Wharfe and bridge. Two very drunk persons argue and then proceed out of the Swan and Talbot wavering down North Street driving forgetful of their state. Why should I worry? And so i drift to The Muse for a pint of Daleside Bobek Export a few years since that showed its head in these parts...     If I had an air gun or something stronger I would shoot the mindless old fools rattling on about 'they' 'them' having your details and using it to tempt you with PPI claims etc... (Aside 2) For a few days my finger has been poised ...

https://www.evernote.com/shard/s315/sh/8e1798fd-6141-4805-ae93-e717caa97f96/dcffa282180a2357d48fb9f5bbc98db5 Truth: I must escape this Hell. It is rotten and has no salvation in it for me. In the summer I set off looking for the essence of truth and to be free of the pain I've carried around ever since I can recall. Something tells me I am very well and I am resolved out of the past and its fear, but I am not sure this 'human' world was ever right for me. It lost me as soon as I was given immunisation, went to school, was uniformed, tied, forced to write words from letters fixed, bound to be flogged for 'the minimum wage' by those who would forever fail to see. In the past I really thought I was in error or something was corrupt in me. This was never true. The world is beauty, people are cruel and seem beyond my help so I must return to Eden and leave humanity to its sinfulness. Can I join a cloister and forgive what creates so much pain? In honesty I need a way o...

https://www.evernote.com/shard/s315/sh/f5036d58-7a03-4443-9d33-0cd6e9cb122c/8e8c991219a22539ff4ee0405fc0de34 I've been trying to understand 'we' in terms of 'our' salvation but I can't see that this must be so. Christ died as a redeemer for eternity yet today 'I' feel am sure redeemed; I has gone. This wasn't my choice and I am grateful for no longer being insane. I confess I am not sane, and i am completely ready to become one again, but 'I' literally have no desires, wants or needs anymore. I am far gone from that place in which 'they know not what they do' and this has made life pleasing. I have been asked am I depressed: no 'I' am not depressed but the 'we' really is and a mountain will have to fall for everyone to be redeemed.

https://www.evernote.com/shard/s315/sh/47aaac88-f911-4f04-8368-cf194a76f561/4290ba09a723fd0797484f90c21dd1ac Awaiting and noises of the busy A1 feed the woes. A blackbird sighs melancholy in this desperate taint. We are all in pain but who is aware? Here comes my chariot to deliver me helpless and broken. Another black sunless morning when the cloak of shadows enhance guile controlling form and feelings.

https://www.evernote.com/shard/s315/sh/98df409a-03be-4c9f-b6a7-868eafd48d3e/b85c845da0843b6827a23827d5c5aa2c With billions of bells clanging out of tune and in abrasive discord this new month threatens all hope in Christ to redeem us. My cousin says ' Bar! Humbug' when I ask ' Who was it that killed Christmas?' - It was death through mindless possession, swearing, binding and surviving; the very simple essence which was family is in bondage to this spendthrift's day. Yet, coughing, I know in only nine working days my seasonal penance should be complete. But will not as I will be let out just in time to grimace at the very real threat of yet another familiar (41st) rabid ungentle feast. Still I plead 'please give children back Christmas'. We must remove this ever increasing commercialisation before something, beyond redemption, takes us forever away from a light and blinds love because we seem to have forgot. Dollars make us toil without selfless relief...