A rebel without a clue.

solumn smile; smile but no happiness. shake shake shake my hand until it detaches. guess what, who, why? business man and woman and man. shake shake shake you fear to grimace. that grin is grim and your shake is hate. shake shake shake look me in my eyes then look away. eyes tell me that false is all you sell. shake shake shake so long your glance down cast. if you want to love me? give me all your money. shake shake shake your happiness from my mind. if you take me, abuse me and rob me blind. i will surely say commendable, great work; you cunt!

It took me ages to be resurrected this morning  A night boozing and shouting into a jam jar. Trying to catch anguish in a jam jar. Cider inside my head and battenbergin my mouth. 2 meat chilli, an alt bier in North Bar, then a gallon of weston's vintage cider. How rotten I feel and I just passed a refuse strewn garden. Actually the garden of Christ, the redeamer, not exactly gethseminy. Where a purse of coins won't be silver, but rusty bent coppers. And now the junction of sheepscar. This strikes me as being some place of common animal butchery. A61 you guided me towards my dreams. I butchered and killed all that I once loved. I confided a hopeless truth to someone I hold too dear. And after jumping off the number 2 I realise that so much we once took for granted is now closed forever closed. Borders, envy, Wesley owen...does this mean christanity is dead or bankrupt, in administration, corrupted? Then I come to deal with the weekly dole. Having to relocate from one happy place...

A day to go and I feel frustrated. That bit of therapy makes it worse. Like some unhealing wounds. Round in circles do I go. Oh, I long for the wallenstein and a pond full of carp. And seasons for a chin up. For the strange and piqué taste to vanish in shimmering waves of happiness. I must resolve my hate; I realise it's not good to feel blames fame. Girl give me bread and sweet words. [Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

A good reception. For those it invites. And for those along willy nilly well who can say? I switched between rooms. Walking the fine line. Between all kinds of life. I turn to watch and look to tell. Some how I keep walking the line. Shame shame shame. I can connect the dots but without owning. [Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Some odd feeling of being swamped and concrete comes over me in the welcome break. It really make me hate. But KFC to waken my appetite and coffee to fill my veins. There is a vapid tastelessness in my cup. Leaving me caffeine charged, last one until morning. Banal hell of muffins, flapjack and coke in cans. At last, very chilled by northern wind, set off for Watford Gap. Oh pathetic happiness on the M1, south. [Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

On the m1 with our car sped by Those in a sub lane sub continent Families of gold nosed and studded Hitting the 30 limit nearing Nottingham While decisions are being made. [Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Business meetings always happen next to me and people always stare at me. This is a public place, but it's not a meeting room. I wouldn't work for a company that didn't have a meeting room. And now some old guy is rearranging the furniture for his wife who has gone down with her Geordie accent to buy teas. I have so many hates but they just go inside and, like water inside a pressure cooker, they build up just to seep away when I rationalise my temper. I could say something, but I will not. I may one day and never stop. But if I do open my mouth I am scared that it'll be blah blah blah. Nice girl smiled a winning smile and flashed her teeth and stretched and pointed her chest at me. Nearly had my eyes out and out of the corner of my eyes I thought she was drinking actimel and the old guy who rearranged furniture is staring staring staring. Ever heard of a Elvis Presley film called Clam bake Tm? It must be a bad one, probably the worst, its not in my scrapbook that I...