A rebel without a clue.

I think that I might actually be right and absolutely not alone; oh joy to feel that I am not alone; thank you LP. The capitalist world is lost on a journey of self destruction. Some of us look around and wonder why the majority are greedy, selfish and barbaric. Closed in by the tyranny and violence of a small section of the populace. Open to businesses greedy single erect purpose while government bends to become an anal love child of fawning condescension. Where armies destroy thousands of helpless people for the security of the earth’s limited finite resources, picking on the unfortunate individuals repressed in the backwaters where we find most of the fundamentally precious minerals they need to keep the wheels in motion. Those who allow for no separate plan of humanity except short term financial vying – balance of trade, trade deficit and boom and bust. Men and Women sit on their banks of cushioned thrones and decide divisions of labour in far away lands to present the the more ...

Selectively mute. Anxiety. Weighed down with fear. Was bullied at primary and secondary school, dislike playlike banter and insults.  Reinforces feeling of inadequacy. Being quiet won't hurt. I went to the Inkwell, part of Mind Leeds, in Chapel Allerton. Had a spot of food, coffee, listened to music and a little light comedy. Suddenly Felt I just had to leave. Had no one to talk to there. Same feeling of wanting to hide away. Didn't want to look in the eye of anyone there. Just travelled back on 48. No idea why this palpitating keeps coming back. I am threatened by this end.  Inkwell maybe does well for those knocking on heavens door. I might be closing in on that, but not yet: not right now. Some of the artwork on display is genuinely brilliant. Some is half hearted. Some delicate sketches of bodies and a few in a post-impressionistic style. I am en-route to Cornwall again. 3/4 months of slog and sun and sea too. Always a job needs doing in a tourist town. I'm bring...

And she's doing cuts and colours... A rhythm of chops, shears, snips Complete in vibrant gloss style Us women eating gristle and skin Puckering with blood stained lips A cuticle removed by rusting file Rouge tinged cheeks hiding. Why do we sleep? What does it do to our hopes and dreams? It always seems so hard to get, yet we find ourselves there in a second without our knowledge. I have always wondered when sleep comes; in which disguise. While I lived with Glenn we went to Prague for a few days the first week of September. We arrived at the Czech Inn , our backpackers in Vinohrady, on a Tuesday evening around 10pm, having taken the usual bus and tram route from the airport. We were very excited to have ventured out on Jet2 at such a handsome price, this is before budget airlines added lots of additional costs, and had only paid £50 return. Once we'd chucked our baggage in the shared dorm on the 1st floor, quickly saying hi to our room-mates, we went down into the ...

No idea what was happening on Monday to make me feel so panicked. I told Matt at North I was sinking into bad depression. There is numerous separate problems that spread from Monday to Friday that are pushing me closer to alcohol oblivion at the weekend. A job, a calm peaceful flat, something else in leeds, money and some mental relief. Took to bed at 11:30 last night having taken beta blockers and Kalms. Unwound until around 12:30, but even with ear plugs in could hear the various sounds of this deafening abode. Laid turning over and over unable to turn off. Fear was in my head. However he returned along around 12:30 alone. Still I turned and rolled in a heightened state. My arms ached and pulsated. I couldn't relax them. Must've slept at 2 or 2:30am. Then awoke at 6am and I am in the hazy post drugged sleep deprived state. I feel nothing except my body is stretching and yawning and wanting to return to sleep. My earliest clear memory is being in an ill state. We lived u...

I've had one of them days. From first leaving the house with the north westerly creaking through the trees. To returning to the mess of 97. It's a cursed day. 23 May 2011 you will be infamy. I will now quit this no go. I can't maintain this unreal drifting in the tower of doom. While the hurricane spins around the banks of the Aire and beyond. Bringing brimstone and frightening ferocity that would try to remove us who are sinned against. More sinned than sinning. I have no options here.

Wow. Flaming pie. Religion. It's like a blind alley for helplessly chased refugees. No where to go but down and down to the brick wall of supposed salvation. We don't know. To believe is an oxymoron. If I believe the world is made from soiled Japanese school girls panties does this belief make it incontrovertible? Belief presupposes stupidity and ignorance and maybe a desperate need to justify an incredible thing in human terms. A revelation is a kin to trapped wind or the passing of a wet shit into the toilet of insanity. Look at the bible: it is a book. Hundred of years old, and full of the rules, ethics and morality of the human race but essentially a moral tale with lots of faith bound lessons. Enough. There is no point in justifying your existence to a book. It is written by humans, prove me otherwise. 

You see, today I am staring at utter despair. I can't see any future for me. Every thing I ever wanted is gone. I'm just plodding along without any clue what this life is all about. I sink so often that I only recover because, as long as I get over today, there isn't any further emptiness I can feel. Every thing I do is empty.