A rebel without a clue.

Please Mum no more cheap toliet paper, the stuff my index finger goes straight through ain't glamourous. Back to marigold andrex. 'Hey look! There goes the durex dog' said my sister at Wetherby Show in about 1980. Durex/Dulux/Andrex. Silver Dog is asleep paw on my shin bone like a hand in my hand...yawn yawn. Me tired too, but eaten so much shite today. I'm loaded with MSG and transfats; cool huh?

I got up fairly easily at 7:45am. After bathing I watered my pinto bean sprouts and washed my black eyed beans. Angry and frustrated by 9am. Felt i couldn't get into the day. Took full bin bag out(again)...with neighbours. Got to street lane. Told help the aged I wouldn't really be able to make any other day than Saturday; will be in a 1pm all being well. Popped to Starbucks to kill an hour: got a really good book by Stephen Baxter( Timelike Infinity ) from the Beige-ists. Ran and caught number 12 outside Flying pizza. Arrived at surgery for 11am. Waiting Room No. 2: Mum, dad and out of control child. Sat down reading for 15 minutes, but then dreadlocked child climbed in my space; told parents. All the waiting room and decided to climb on my lap. What am i meant to do/say? 'can you keep your child out of my space?' She thought I was moody,'he's only a child!' Grumpy: you're his mother be more assertive. The father looked at me daggers: i couldn't ...

There isn't any reason why this is the first time I've written in my blog since the 4th, other than I updated my iPhone to the latest firmware and now I am restricted to bonafide app's... iBlogger is £4.99. I am struggling money wise, so no time soon will I pay out a fiver on a nothing. I feel empty, soulless, like a deep pit or an endless cavern. I got up without a sense that today was a none day. Yesterday was a none day, but I helped out at Help the Aged. The day before was a none day and I had an annoying afternoon surrounded by yound families in Starbucks. I love them. But not when I am in a sour mood. They're like vinegar to my lemon juice... I can't blog on the go, but Paul reckons that it isn't what people care about: poetry. He's always right so... I can't explain how frustrated I am by having no voice and constantly being told: NO. Not everything is black and white we live in a rich universe of colours and lights. Fuck not having options....

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]