A rebel without a clue.

Mike told me about a market in China, he visited, which dealt in "exotic" birds, who met their end, forlorn, in a Chop Suey, and we must ask ourselves why we think this is ever OK? Behind the padlocked gate, and locked door, of a battery farm is the not-so-exotic Chicken: who we deal with in a similarly ruthless manner - to incorporate into a Sunday roast or Southern Fried Chicken - and I ask myself the same question. Why do we think this is ever OK? The irrational answer given usually consists of an arrogant "because I like it", yet I would contend that this is a world where we are all one - you, I, Lola and the dawn chorus I'm listening to - and I shouldn't like what I am doing to "I" because the results can only ever be horror: Corona Virus is where this has led us? Yet I cannot dictate to anyone, because all life consumes matter to persist in existence! All the way up from single cellular to multicellular and, indeed, solar, interstellar and pa...

All day yesterday I've sat inside watching the world outside and all I know is I want to linger outside: yet I didn't. Why didn't I, when that is all my life needs? I'm not house bound. Lola is, but I've just no cause to be behind these walls? Did I think I was immune to humanity?  Royal Oak might be making me consider, yet I was still sat there holding nothing dear in my grasp. Whenever I sit in a pub, café, restaurant, or other social setting, I am always trying to understand what it is which makes people speak the way they do. However I find it so difficult to listen without prejudice: judging words, actions and deeds. Suddenly I am awake again! It takes me a little time to come out of the milaise I fall into whenever I transfer from true being (walking) and unreality (not walking). My answer isn't at the bottom of a glass, can, bottle yet whenever I re-enter society from my place of isolation that is what I do. This morning I was awakened by the ...

Well this does feel strange. Everyone, including me I suppose, is doing what they always do and, since I'm stuck in Wetherby for a while, I must go out. Otherwise I'm just going to end up arguing with mother who seems to think she is going to be fine because she says she will be.  Whenever I approach a group of people I'm veering away to let them breath on each other. Yet I was forced to go get milk for mother. We lived on other foods prior to being addicted to cow's milk in our tea or coffee, etc. In Morrisons there was "zero" milk so I got out as soon as possible: with a few resources under my arms - it wasn't a suckling pig but it was two bottles of Riesling: the theory being that I could drown in wine prior to suffocating, and it's a possible "Gallic" paradoxical qualities. This morning, on my brief walk with Lola, because some wanker threw a glass on the pavement near mum's house, and Lola has lost a lot of pad (thankfull...