A rebel without a clue.

A spectacular week of unbelievable ups and one unbelievable down. But I did it all to myself. Three days of bliss - Walking through Leeds purposely saying Good Morning to all the people i passed, meeting a fellow student of A Course In Miracles, an amazing deep breathing mediation (in my cell) twice, a few pleasant conversations with strangers, another excellent counselling session followed by the second Zen Sangha in Leeds Unitarian Chapel, Mill Hill. Then snooker, pool, darts and chess up at the Brudenell on the afternoon and into the early evening. Walking home through the snow still wishing everyone good day! Then ... becoming a mindlessly stubborn drunk by the end of the evening. I repeated the same pattern of behaviour which seems an established part of my post adolescent self - an emotion out the bottom of my very soul - when I forget I don't need alcohol to be happy! It has taken me two days of this bottoming out depression to see that I allow the other side of me to over...

20th August 2010. I think it was on a Sunday in 1980 and, as was usual, we were taken in the family car by my father, on his only complete day away from the job he usually hated, to visit our relations in Rawmarsh South Yorkshire. We'd drive south on the A1, turn off at junction 36 and pass slag heaps and dirty rivers. We'd cross the Don and fly through Conisborough, Mexborough and Swinton to arrive at Hallam Place, Goosebutt Street,  Parkgate or Claypit Lane. Crossing the Rother and passing many thousands of council houses and coal board housing jostling with the smells of tar, coke, coal and steel industry in the air along to Jean and Milton's abode. Mother and father's oldest friends while they were married: best man, etc., regular guest at our house since I can ever remember. When all else of Rawmarsh has vanished with the death of dad they still occur regularly in my life. Solid as a pair of Doctor Martens boots. Andrew and I were proper childhood pals. Did ...

How to walk in February, through rain, mud, snow, ice and find somewhere to sleep. Homeless people sleep in doorways, they can't be freezing otherwise they wouldn't be alive in the morning. They must cherish wool, thermally protective clothing. Many layers. The smells of their bodies must be beyond their perception. We're not used to our natural smells as the huge perfume and deodorant business demonstrates. We are animals with sweat glands, we perspire to keep cool, yes it smells but that is actually normal. We deny our true nature by pampering our selves in cosmetics and fabric conditioners; Glade, Air Wick and Febreze fill shelves in all supermarkets. But why? What made man hate his own smell? Are we always going to deny our nature. Will scientist develop pleasant smells in our DNA? A few stem cells will consign that industry to the dole queue. Quickly please tweak the genome! How do you sleep in a doorway? How many pairs of socks would be enough pairs of socks? You c...

Hanging. Suddenly feel yesterday's fill. We were going to catch the 10:19 am into Trier. But we're going to wait until we stop with the hot and cold sweats. This happens just too often. Forgetful of where we are by five pm is not a sensible strategy. Be Sunday. *** Most of the day was sultry (35°) in the extreme, we ducked into museums, cafés, terraces, ice cream parlours trying to keep cool. Eventually we crossed the Mosel over the Roman Bridge on both sides. Found the Rathaus and I think the architecture of something built by the National Socialists near a school. A route behind the Dom took us to the North Gate and Saint Simeon's Abbey - which was closed. Then I had a sudden attack diarrhoea in the main market square and it seemed a good time to return up to Irsch on the 84 (49 minutes past). As I pack away for another summer it tries to rain. Friday until Sunday is enough for Trier. It is a compact city. There was very little open today so it was very quiet on the we...

Strange day. Begun with a fine breakfast, provided by our Airbnb hosts, and they say I can move next door for the next two nights. Before we go sight seeing I move my things to give Steven his space. The Roman's were very much in Trier. It was a significant regional capital of the Tetrachy and had a lot of money spent on it in the 4th century by Constantine. It was nearly a frontier city but it was created to have a magnetic charm. It was a significantly unexpectedly great Roman city and the Kaiserthermen is the largest Roman structure I've every seen - with the exception of Diocletian's Palace in Split (but that's been altered down the years) - and I felt good seeing it. What was York like during the Roman Empire? Then we drank four glasses (0.2l glasses) of Riesling in the vicinity of the Dom before we went looking for perfume (which kind of got to me) and buying Lacoste polo shirt (which caused me to shout). Then we had two beers before catching the bus back to Ir...

We arrived at the lodgings - around 15 minutes up the hill, above the City - around three pm. It was getting stupidly warm, but it wouldn't be so sensible just to retire as we're a long time dead. A quick change of clothing, Steven pampers himself a little, I brush my teeth and we catch number 4 bus down through the university complex: getting off at the Bahnhoff to look for Negra Porta. It took a long time to find the local brewery. Indeed a tourist info lady in the Karl Marx Haus said there wasn't one - though clearly there was as they had a fully functioning website. But it's easy for a micro brewery to go under the radar. I lost my rag because they wouldn't believe me! Am I some "fraud"? Assertively I apologised for the tantrum and off we went down to the river Mosel. And low and behold: the Braü Haüs appears where the website says it would be. And then Steven says "oh you had sent me a photo of this beer garden ..." The ability to now stop,...

Robots of death. Legions of those descending blindfold into hell. Maybe not blindfolded but blinkered. Those who can only look ahead. Not aside. Their heads are restricted in neck pulling them along the totemic ridged. Glassy eyed these are slaves who never will see until they are at the gates. Even then I think they'll choose to continue into the centre of hell where Satan's waiters and waitresses will pour pure vengeance. This is not it. This is not the answer to that obtuse equation; this was not meant at all. The complete package: fucking Daily Mail or Telegraph, Hello and OK - our thoughts to be controlled inside a Boeing 747-800  At 38,000 feet nothing exists at all. All memory. All past or future must be seen to be an illusion, but they bring us back with their capitalist pursuant. Escape lounge, Steven goes off to buy stuff in duty free like a lamb to the stone and half attempts at women crack open Champagne: it is 7:13 am - where is your real brain, reason, wit or do...