A rebel without a clue.

Old clothes. I find it hard to throw away a load of clothes from the early 1990's. I have a cabinet filled with a number of tee-shirts and jumpers I will probably never wear again and a few items on hangers that sit there looking uncomfortable and unwanted. SF mentioned the orange quilted Chipie jacket I wore to every acid hazed event from 1989 to 1998, until it was literally worn out. It is sat there in my wardrobe reminding me of other times: fond and simple times. Been in Leeds for 2 whole nights so far, a third tonight and a whole days work in a school on Friday. I'm looking forward to this as it's more like what I want to do; I think? Made an effort on the food front last night. Bought strong flour from Millies and created luxurious homemade pizza a la Leodis. Blanched asparagus spears, refreshed in cold water, slow baked santorini tomatoes, wilted rucula, buffalo mozzarella, rosemary and four cheese sauce as the base. Flawless. I offered one to Anthony, bu...

December 7th 1941 is a day that will live in infamy. Walls that are composed from sandstone are eroded in time. No coffee since Tuesday morning. I am very tired. Fair to say I am thinking of nothing to write. I'm battling an addiction I didn't know I had. Perhaps five cups of brewed coffee a day at most. I am tired and could've followed yesterday's golden slumber from 3:30pm until 8:30pm. When most of the nation was preparing to head for home, family and dinner I drifted away. Why building college? There isn't anything to build. The conservatives will put a stop to any public building projects: that leaves private corporate enterprise when all the banks won't lend. I am in a strange paralysis which hopefully a triple espresso can shift? That derrière is marble. The Oreo invasion: we have our own biscuits. Fuck off back to the States! May? Yep the weather says it all: sunny, but often windy and cloudy. Just had a look at ...

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.

What is this bean which demands so much o'er us? Half the planet over is in ruin in barista or plantation growers Or major corporate density method. Where once tea was the madness that we shared Now coffee is the branch of chains Like slaves rowing to a distant land Locked synchronized we spend all alone Maybe in huddles or meeting Where poets and revolutionaries once demanded more.

Dogs are clumsy and generous Cats are dainty and mean Dogs are rough and ready Cats are shirts and tidy Dogs might whiff a bit Cats will usually smell serene Dogs take a life of walking Cats make a life of stalking Dogs can't take solitary life Cats are happier on their own Dogs are part of the family Cats scorn friendship alone. Dogs are always hungry Cats are usually lean Cats make giant furballs Dog licks their balls But the they both make us happy When we return after a long day From the trials and tribulation Of that thing we call an occupation

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.