A rebel without a clue.

Only one day! That was a terrifically long day. The distance, along the tow path, is nothing. However after the airport hell came the late arrival, the waiting for the host and too many beers. It's insignificant because I believe I'll sleep forever tonight. The food I've eaten today is definitely a contribution to France's nation debt, yet this is necessary. France has my heart, but I don't know where my head lies! Nowhere is my "main complaint". No sense of belonging. The body succeeds yet my mind is short of aspiration. I'm a dull boy. You know? *** If you show your teeth this means a "concord" - bullshit, as the locals sit opposite the Krauts, it is distinctly non-cordial. When will they learn to be honest. Sebastien is not Sebastian. Simple. I listen and pause before the cheese onslaught. *** And the gulf separating those Southern Europeans from us witty Brits, with our Monty Python! What can I do? Smile and poke my teef in their gen...

The first morning is usually contending with the final other way in my life. Like a sliding door the habitual beer glutton is gone as I really have to focus on the path at my feet! At six my alarm began startling me. Before then a heavy freight train and a battle between alley cats. Just one more beer? Enough I say. Leaving le Trois Six and doggies my feet returned to the gites and I took the left over beans the previous person left in a jar. Gilbert is one stage/étape ahead as he arrived 16th September: people do walk this path. The host told me it's quite straightforward to Carcassonne, along the Canal du Midi, with its locks, bridges, docksides, etc. No climbing as such. A day or two to get into the stride and today I will reach Capestang. Sundried "mûres" are the greatest wayside snack ... Apart from Haw berries ... Wolfed them down. All the figs I've found today were totally dried out. I found an almond tree but these were the bitter variety: Cyanide. Obviously ...

Literally the worst experience I go through to escape what I find so threatening is the departure from in and through airports: the intensity of all elements of the corralling system used make me feel worthless. It's a bottleneck in every way. With Ryanair it always seems at the last moment everything is accomplished too. I noticed a sanitary vehicle cleaning the toilets just prior to boarding. Now on the plane they refuelled as we took our sets. Due to depart for Béziers at 13:20 seems unlikely. Departure for them probably means leaving gate number 52 and not take off so perhaps it's my interpretation that is flawed? They give land-yards to people on the spectrum; I never knew. There is no quiet space on airside. No prayer room. It's super intense. On this occasion I was just in time to board the flight, I was assisted all along the way after I managed to leave my phone on the self check-in scales - bag comes in at 9.8kgs (just within bounds). Everything else is in the wh...

Another working week begins, it's dark around six but the traffic noise drifting from the A1 to the east is building constantly. Summer is almost gone with October just around the corner. Crows chatter, pipes groan, wood creaks - all in the dawn blue - and I'm awake before it's supposed "healthy" however I know being awake naturally when the day begins is truer to my being. A spider spins its web by the back patio doors ready for another day catching lives. The sky is ribbed and carries broken clouds, to the east is a purple pink glow. It's going to be a lovely morning a blackbird sings. The dawn chorus only somewhat smothered by the sounds floating to me from the A1. Someone shouts on York Road breaking the moment. Back inside, brewing tea, I wonder how much the spider registers of this same beginning - does it experience everything as I do while setting it's trap? Is it a habit waking prior to the dawn? It's the only time of day when I feel nature h...

On the road home I pop in to step around Delayed accord Peace between dreams Muddy tread! Some buckthorn soured device. Another bearded Fool Plays random LP. He's not interested! Because no one listens In. And, out of his time, Two suggest something like Caring? But they've borrowed looks Bothered before being And fingered a wilting crust Mouth bound. No track skipping Beats. Gone where the road grows Narrow. There is no force at work Girls pneumatic chased Towards implicit doom. Yawn, My own deviation dragged Me forthright and carried me, Chin first, where My life screams: No!

Feeling the end is near The rest I had today sunk me Towards the true light Where none of this pain strikes Little more waiting And less pain forming There is a Spanish enclave Never once spoken of Up upon a mountain, I sigh to tread, Another path Where you is lost And I am found. To find the me Hidden in the dust Scratched below the dirt Blown under those silicates Between beetle battling grains And the warp of wavering life, Overwhelming dessicate, But shining through! It gleams And suggests fault free Inspiration. Justice stands Apart these Untrue visions Disgracing me And all I see is myopic Triste; begone! In uncharted ways Be brave and step forward Youth in spirit Blithe and totally Corporal; alive!

It could be worse? The town of my formation. Kills me Off. It's probably necessary, because it's driven me to anonymity. And the kind of look I think suspects get? All for dog shit And all for a left bag of dog shit. It's welcome and despised.