A rebel without a clue.

I got off the bus once the traffic slowed to a stand still. We had only come as far as Bardsey and I felt I would be here on the A58 for hours yet. I had to be at work for 2pm at Coors in Headingley for my evening shift. I called ahead to explain that I was going to be late. It was a pleasant afternoon at the end of August so I jumped off the bus and I walked all the way to the Oakwood Clock so as to catch a 12, 13 or 13A into town. It was the first time I had ever walked most of the route to Leeds. This was before Snoopy came along in the early noughties. I knew I had a short time back at Coors before I wouldn't return; I would leave Coors tearful as half of me was going to miss those I worked with. This was either 2003 or 2004 and I had started counselling with a lady called Jean Booth. I used to go to her house in Oakwood every week. It was useful to talk to her. I was referred to her through occupational health whom Coors had onsite. I would get breathless, I had trouble walkin...

Tuesday I start again. Another future I think ( Diploma in Teaching in the Lifelong Learning Sector (DTLLS)).   Where the Buffalo Roam (1980)   watching this suggests it is probable that Johnny Depp also saw this film too... Oh, l'm eating her cookie. Cook, the bat here is Karl Lazlo. both wildly funny within the context of the film and when use as a general remark...out of context . Wednesday and suddenly all the buses in Wetherby are being run by individual colours. Somehow they're all still dull and discordant. Somehow they're all mat finish. Making it feel like the days of corporations. Inside you're battling a demon VK... There is a new film out which is described as 5 star, fantastic and amazing by the daily rags - friends with benefits - in Leeds this should be re-branded as 'friends on benefits' Ne pas? Much more realistic. The amount of mothers pushing toddlers/babies around Leeds city centre at 2pm on a Wednesday. So busy...

I am slowly building up to explode. I feel like the answer I have been waiting for is ready to present itself to me. I sense it is a final and certain destiny. It's just beyond me now, but I feel like it's in me. Some explosion of angst and frustration that means all I've lived for in 39 years is stoking the furnace of confusion and muddle. Every time I sit in company or near company I begin to panic that I will wobble and deflate in a stare or glance. Only today in Waitrose I couldn't act normally or inhesitantly when purchasing my few items: 2 mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, Maldon salt crystals and discounted sausages. Some guilt was on my face: like I was using a stolen credit card to purchase these items. I couldn't look convincingly into the cashiers eyes. I felt weighted down by manifestations of guilt. I'm surprised I wasn't also blushing. Blushing for my poultry fayre? I absolutely have no idea. I feel almost that the person I am facing might catch me ...

If you happened to see a ghost how could you be sure it was a ghost? Other than approaching the ghost and asking, quite politely, 'are you a ghost?' If you let that ghost walk by then you could never know for sure. If you were to ask someone you thought was a ghost if they were a ghost, and they weren't, what expression would that person take? I see lots of people close to death, but today I watched a ghost cross from the County Arcade to the Thorton Arcade. The clue that led me to believe this man was a ghost was the locomotion employed to cross the distance of those 30/40 feet and his pale and shadowy persona. I am looking at other people in the same space, but they don't maintain that same corpse distinction. The greyness and the physically tinged aspect.

Today, what of it, that is left I brought you rocket, olives and bruschetta bread For me the stage was set for resting amongst the noises feeding my head Right amongst the section of architects stones stood such spitting scholar Closed eyelids and puffy face while waiting to face heavens appeasement The craft of which you speak hasn't levened cleavers leaving me dead and hollow. My pedimental marble is cold and unfeeling framed against a rattling voice. Fucking further than I forsaw from the distance of 5pm and 8pm.

That person again outside Betfred: this is ubiquity...repeat is this Wetherby's characteristic ubiquity? Bar3 has removed Katy and Thatcher's cider from their pumps so there isn't a single reason to go there any more and I wandered to bus stop to see I have two choices either 30mins or and hour. I decided to kill 30 minutes however I don't know why but I just took a step down in my mind. I stepped into the facsimile that was the New Inn(est. 1900) for a woeful pint of Strongbow, with respect the Carling of the cider world. As this is where I spent most of my teenage times and 20's it nice to look in just for old times sake and maybe one of my old chums would be there to talk to. I concentrated seeing not a real apple anywhere and no one I really knew. People in 2's watching the night descending on benches built for 4 near the bandstand. There is something tangible with the warm weather and the slow turgid ponderousness of the Wharfe as it slowly loses its...

M onkey puzzle trees right, left and left left. A solitary weeping willow too. Arranged around the Eastgate/Quarryhill roundabout, which is now disused where once there were fountains and before that a Fina Garage. I am travelling back towards Wetherby on the 3rd of May and I am telling myself I need to visit Mind, the mental health charity, on Kirkstall Lane, and I must venture there soon. This bus always takes the same forsaken route to get out of Leeds; with its bland 'To Let' bulldozed wastelands, low rise warehousing with its pulled down shutters and a Nissan flagship and another few dozen flurried showrooms which are so out of place in this cheap rent part of Leeds. Where the very nature itself springs from the roofs of too often forgotten Victoriana: Tailors', Machinists' and Pressers' Trade Union on Cross Stamford Street . From behind me on the bus I hear the sound of second hand 'r n b', the dumb and chavie youths music of distinction, but ...

If only I knew how to break out of this persona I have become. I know it follows some very repetitively bland pulses and rhythms. Everyday seems to be about getting up just to get back into bed again that same day or even in a wider scope just like living each day just towards some final longed for moment. This isn’t good I can see that, but why can’t I shrug off that feeling and the demented persistent bashing of my head I currently maintain? I follow the same never ending paths that actually lead me nowhere. I will get up tomorrow walk the dog, get on the bus, get to the flat in Leeds, change clothes, take my pills, look at the mess in the living room, feel the coldness of the emptiness of the flat, smell the fetid and rank stale odours, etc. To find there aren’t any jobs but there is yet more manufactured bad news; then I'll haul back to Wetherby, along the same bus route I have been using since 1983, after no one has spoken to me all day, while trying not to spend any money w...

Got up and about for 7:50. Ran bath, washed and brewed coffee. Spoke to mister dogg and told him he's my favourite dog. Off to Leeds for a night to try to find another job. Still not heard from Salsa Mexicana's. Boring old persons on bus. Discussing decline of magpies and cook-coos.  Yes yes: no no. Yes yes they do yes yes. Yes it is. Yes it did. Honest that's what they say! Yes they have, hmm, they have yes. Consanguinity so much to answer for. I recall ignoring DG on Sunday afternoon as he endeavoured to attach himself to me. I can't stand him for a good reason. A person who I used to look forward to seeing immensely all the way from School, through Uni and up to a few years ago. This is only my observation, but he has real issues when he drinks too much and becomes a vibrant example of a sex pest. There is a dividing line in the night between normal discussions and openly obsessive fantascism and I think I want the old Dave back. The swallows have arrived. Wh...

I ordered a repeat 'script' for the anti-Ds I had stopped using in January in the new job. I started on them again on Saturday. I was sick copiously on Saturday night and still nauseous both Sunday and Monday. I've started taking them as I feel a little worried the repercussions of having put so much into Millies for those 4 months is a decline in my proclivity to work: or even look for work. I told myself I will do anything on Tuesday. I will register to Temp. I don't care. I need a life. Suddenly I have no money at all and it's so incredibly frustrating to be in a flat I can't afford, with bills I can't pay, without being able to afford a weeks groceries, etc. I need a job. Maybe another more local live-in job would be available? I have twice ventured to Cornwall since Christmas in the hope of seeing Scarlett: both times she was unattainable. I think maybe I will never see her again. It's not a problem. I guess when I'm stressed I go off at tange...

In the bowels of the Marriott no one ever hears you scream. Gucci init, LV init or emptiness init? Remember there is a reason for stepping back from the brink. Remember to decide. You decide. I decide. It's ours to decide. I don't want to die without at-least making decisions about me: ones that appease me; fuck all the rest.

I am in the guilded hall with fat lasses eating scones and lashings of cramming cream. Ensconced between columns of marble they scrape butter pleasure, jam and sup tea from chipped porcelain. Synchronized hand wiping on white paper napkin. Mechanical short locks and dangling ear stand out. Glasses, bespoken spectacles, glitter of ringed fingers and wagging pen. Autobahn in the sun. The fun fun fun. 

Office girls get up and dress like whores. Office gentlemen dress like confirming priests. Some of them drag on fag ends in longing for destiny Some of them talk to their handsets like it's war. There is a faux friendship here And blank impotent rage When in years gone bye nine bells would toll The reality of slavish coil doesn't depend on whistles. Fake leather elbows on a tweed coat: oh is that the best you can do? Drag them away one by one and shoot the lot. Put them on the east coast cattle truck to be boiled down to tallow.

Oh the misery I spent Friday nicely. But Saturday wasted was 40 pounds lighter 40 pounds unreal I wanted 40 pounds of flesh I ended towards the rear Unable to take part Oh, 'cept for Hazel,  The night wasn't fore Trailing out by 10pm 40 pounds rounded down £1.25 of all I can concern.

It is a while since I covered myself in Blog. Recently (12/11/2010) I started working for Natalie, Geoff and Cath @ Millie's Fresh & Organic as their resident chef Monday to Friday. I am trying to develop the scope of the kinds of food they have offered and create a trade with a more diverse clientele than I do currently. Tucked away on Vicar Lane , Leeds the emporium offers a great selection of vegan, organic, ethical and fair trade products from both local and far away. From this variety I am able to create a vast array of balanced salads, interesting and value-for-money meals, vegan and raw cakes, homemade and inspiring dainties, etc, etc (you'll just have to pop in on any day to see what I am working hard to produce). I find myself back @ 97 Whitehall Waterfront 4 years on from when I went off to YHA Afriston and a few years with the YHA and a chance to develop some skills with Jean-Claude Etile and other important persons in the vast world of catering. It is qu...

I think media relies on new products to flog any old rubbish the latest fads are HD, 3D and bluray. Wow it's 3d. What next hologram projectors? Sometimes it's all about who you like and who you don't. How trivial to have these empty thoughts in your teens, through your twenties just to see it become nonexistent hatred from then or even more xenophobic turned against entire groups. Or who has stayed at the better holiday cottage. Girls stop this bollocks. I've been going to Leeds on the bus since it was a 799 or 798 at Deighton Bar in around 1984. My first bus journey out without mum I think was with John Naylor to the brand new Ridings in Wakefield. I bought a picture disc of the Reflex by Duran Duran ;12 inch.Pin It had a version of Make Me Smile (come up and see me some time) on the B-side. Jody. Bella Italia, possibly. Oracle, possibly. Print of your CV! Info@pinheads.co.uk attention Jon Tite. 1pm at Pin and Addlestones makes me feel warm and lo...

I left the flat for Starbucks, on Street Lane, but I had to leave very shortly after only a solitary grande mug of their Café Estima Blend® and a brownie. Suffering from no internet I walked back to the flat through what I have decided to call 'dogshit alley' on the Roman's Estate. It is called The Romans locally, but its actually turn of the 20th century suburbia which becomes a 1950's council estate in the north end before trailing off into a mucky park known locally as The Bumps where there is more of the sporadic dog shit; I live on the otherside. I don't think calling it the Roman's does it any justice as it feels foetid and dirty, unusually for Roundhay it is more Gypsy than Ravenna. Personally I have no issues with using parks perimeters/edges as dumping grounds for dog faeces, but I hate having to hop along a path between steaming piles, from gap to gap, hoping I haven't missed one that will lead to a comical end (back in 1985 I remember falling ...