A rebel without a clue.

I note the 'return mentality': nothing to do and nowhere to be. It has ground to a halt. Just waiting the passage of time. Short attention. Puffy mind. Noon to leave number 8. Then another 8 hours until the Ryanair gears start up once more. Time to distract myself. Will walk along the shore a while. The weather must remain clement. The waiting game. How easy the mind shifts to ruminating. There are two options tonight once I hit Manchester Airport: either a short train to Piccadilly, accommodation and onwards late on Sunday; or else put up with the trials of Planes, Trains and Automobiles to arrive back early Sunday: the price is the same. A third, if unlikely but fortunate, means might offer it's self if anyone is heading east from the Airport? Leggiero Caffe in the City Galleria has a spoon that has only one function: missing entirely the middle piece: like a polo mint. I joke with the Barista that it is a diet spoon or a wish spoon: it is not a soup spoon. It is a tenn...

Last night I finished the evening with home made tomato soup: local beef and cherry tomatoes, veg stock, garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil and oregano. Which followed a bottle each of Medvedgrad Pivnica Wheat (Dva klasa), Amber (Grička vještica) Black (Crna kraljica) in the bar (60kuna for three). Seems a good brewery, although they declare their use of extract by percentile and it is almost impossible to pronounce the names of the beers. Had a very funny and informative conversation with the skipper of a yacht who was brought up learning English through Blazing Saddles, MP Holy Grail and 'Allo 'Allo - was tempted to call him Raymond Luxury Yacht - about who to blame for the war and whether cartwheel surfing might become a sport. The bar is called Zodiac and it is bluesy - the only one that is truly BoHo that I've seen, although Split and Sarajevo must have their share - It's where the locals go after putting up with travellers, 'excursioners' and other zombie fl...

Stop the blame game. If you lived in Albania, where Norman Wisdom is a national icon, shouldn't you be celebrated for, during all the perceived hardship, they still have a slapstick sense of humour? There are less and less people to blame for misfortunes. First the French, German, Spanish and Italian, any greasy spyk, wop, wog, nigger; Liverpudlian, Mancunian or Loiner. Now it is Bulgarians, Romanians and Albanians - Roma and Gypsies.  Not allowed to blame Jews any more, but it happened a lot, but Muslims get it from everybody all the time - even from Buddhists in Myanmar! The one thing this all has in common is judging an individual on a conceived national, cultural or religious identity. As long as the true enemy, the corporate and political oligarchs, ain't seen as collectively responsible for all the divisions in society, by creating the sense of need and the servitude to money, possession and identity with thought forms, the hatred will not cease. Muslims are not innocent,...

Walking around Sarajevo early, just passed six, the sun is just reaching the souk area. I am running low on atire suitable for this weather - the short shorts and Canadian Speedos. Life is such an unexpected beauty, but why is it so thoughtless, short and painful? Why would anything come into existence but only glimpse a fleeting moment of love? There is a huge error I am sure. A girl's dog, someone on Instagram, was destroyed by a poisoner: isn't that the ultimate low level act of a human? Killing is so cheap ... In Srebrenica the same evil was metered out to the Bosniaks, but at least we can speak up or speak out from our place - maybe other humans will respond to our destitution - animals place trust in us but what do we do? Franck espresso. Sarachi. What kind of arsehole chants at 7 am. Passers by, seldom though they are, look this way: it wasn't me breaking the solace. I think there is a bakery near by? Flat breads? Breakfast, back to bed. Body exceptionally tired. ...

Plavac Mali Sivi. Interesting to see this grape used to make an off dry wine. But the wine bar is a joke - I know wine bars can be so beyond everyday ease; it comes with the cravat wearing, faux sommelier charmlessness and "higher than thou" grape descriptions that I would swear are memorised before bed every night; a cliché that has very little to do with wine, but everything to do with Jilly Goulden monsters. Don't fall for it. Fucking Game of fucking of Thrones. I nearly choked on my over priced cheese. So this is actually worse than Split - I've brought myself to the end of a sock - cut off from the rest of Dalmatia. And now I am surrounded by Game of Thrones walking tours. This room will be a base, even if Magdalene was virtually forcing me to eat below in a restaurant run by one of the cartels who control the carbon copy Konobas and Pizzeria. No. I have some garlic and while I do I can stick to Prsut, cheese and tomatoes and sit next to the bus stop at the entr...

Saturday night I didn't think I was going to sleep well, it was somehow stifling - there is extensive cloud cover this morning - but a little 'returning to the breath' counting meditation, without the overly large pillow, flat supine and it carried me away even when my German room mate came in around midnight. It reminds me not to be fooled by the shining lights and that all that glitters is not gold. To be rich is to be at peace with all of creation. Now I am in the city market Sibenik with something perhaps looming bright away from fools gold? I think Vis is calling me again. Down to Dubrovnik. Hop a few islands and finish back at Zadar trying to miss out Split, because I really can't do another tourist old town, even if Diocletian's palace is a wonder; too many American, Japanese and other wealthy pleasure seekers. Not today! Not negative today. Leave the average, over priced, wine corked for another naive, gullible alcohol fiend. One positive - the guys working...

Friday night and a couple of Gracin/Tirada Babic glasses (40 kuna per 0.1ltr) at VinoIno, but I know that many tourist cities do lack an authentic grinding underbelly whenever all their best wares are on display so selectively - one wine bar in the entire city. There isn't any hidden depths - which I hope still exists in Prague. It is too immersed in being excursionists and touts tempting passing persons to eat the best food here (cursing under their breath when you hasten away). It always feels there are simply too many very similar, competing (I am not convinced that every establishment isn't owned by the same "families" who won out of the conflicts?) restaurants, bars, tourist agencies, hotels, hostels, cultural and historical icons (churches, walls, castles, citadels, art galleries etc). I have walked far with my free agency, and that real fifth sense I have, but I really can't see through the distorted, cracked and illusionary mirrors presented here to the ve...

Another noise breaking the natural silence - construction work. In nations where the siesta is a daily accepted occurrence "the weary" carry on from dawn unto dusk. It uses the cool of the early evening so that a whole day is less available for the discovering of the Truth amidst lies, lies and sadistics. The manic clanking of their "pile driver" mingles with a distant church bell across the bay telling eight. Closer by birds sing and dogs bark while butterflies chase the final rays of the sun shimmering on the languidly rolling water beyond the heavy weep of pines. It will be utterly silent and pitch dark once the hard hatters go home for their supper. The other monk brought me dinner. Soup - chicken broth with pasta shapes - and beef pizza slices. It is enough. Now into the shower. It took me all afternoon to figure out where the switch for the heater was ... And it was staring me in the face literally at eye level from the bed. Its not that it is archaic, far fr...

Is this hayfever? That was a mosquito last night! The obvious and insanely threatening micro buzz always finds its way to my sensitive ears. Whenever the buzz stops it has alighted, sinks its 'teeth', bites and then drinks from a straw. But I am thinking this is not the same kind of critter I was forced to endure in Central America so I slept soundly after considering this and recall being told that mosquitoes must prosper too. This morning I am heading straight into the 'stari grad', across the pedestrian bridge direct from the new town, no other sights to linger over here. It is time for a coffee, two sugars, thence to the monastery Sventi Frane. No rush. It's warm already I watch people traveling to their Monday employment. For me uppers, but locals a beer at eight fifty am, in Caffe Bar Forum. Unhastily I packed, abluted, washed up the remaining pots and left number 8. That was an easy hour from me blinking awake just before eight. Which ever boat is waiting ...

Remember, at our final quarter, that this is shit: this is the end of life as we know it. It can't provide for any future. The wheels keep rolling but the path is running into scrub. Away for me. Six months until my first Diagnostic session (on Wednesday) and now another month barely alive waiting in line for the next appointment. It's in my bones. So cold I feel in this world. It was made by me, but how? Why did I put myself at 43 in such a preposterous place vis-à-vis people? The next bus heading West. It is a common drug: barren of truth. Coffee has not been in my veins a week and I didn't miss this. I missed the bus - another X99. Lots of sections which I can't deny. Oh to walk through a portal and be there without my mind hitting meltdown. I've been hidden since October. So I guess I should "come out" for what it is worth. I am for Zadar; what are your brutally loud crawling bodies of youth, mothers and fathers, belonging to Purgatory, for? Bus time ...

Such a fool. Trying to operate like a robot. Feeling always wrong, but carrying on in a way sure to trip me up. All the clumsy steps I took, bumps of this fragile mind, never seeing the reality beyond the rules taught to confuse my essence. This will not ever make me operate true, but it becomes alright to look else where for the Truth. My death nearly became the result of this ingenious demon telling tall tales hollow and filled with brackish sand to choke a final breath rattling where once I had tonsils. Too many voices, who also questioned the often repeated lies, can not keep all hope chained facing inward blind of the light. Give me options because it is only my death! Please me if it is only my life to know how to tick without guilt and unmanifesting fear. Get thee behind me Satan: you only lie because that is all you know! I forgive your wild trespass against my rational sigh. Deep and ancient is that calm; quiet is what I often misplaced during the rages in my ignorance. Whe...