A rebel without a clue.

In the evening, of day one, Alone  Facing to the east. As the wind Feels this way: Caressing parting sighs And I dissolve Down the valley (Making sure Essex Dogs plays loud). On this inward retreat. Some hands seem chapped and, Where a heart is desiccated, It is integral to this boney city. Dried: clattered, Clapping at nothing and an Empty hollow: shattered Where a terra rosa stains Along rivlet driven tears And life dissolves there. Clay, lies uselessly Fat, under Fixated assurity. While, my heart dissolves Into a Rochefort's happy, holy, Vectoring attack, it Releases me - but I cannot step aside This appalling season. For a time of real, Bloody pumping, We forget those trusts, In which we know There is no answer!

Mike told me about a market in China, he visited, which dealt in "exotic" birds, who met their end, forlorn, in a Chop Suey, and we must ask ourselves why we think this is ever OK? Behind the padlocked gate, and locked door, of a battery farm is the not-so-exotic Chicken: who we deal with in a similarly ruthless manner - to incorporate into a Sunday roast or Southern Fried Chicken - and I ask myself the same question. Why do we think this is ever OK? The irrational answer given usually consists of an arrogant "because I like it", yet I would contend that this is a world where we are all one - you, I, Lola and the dawn chorus I'm listening to - and I shouldn't like what I am doing to "I" because the results can only ever be horror: Corona Virus is where this has led us? Yet I cannot dictate to anyone, because all life consumes matter to persist in existence! All the way up from single cellular to multicellular and, indeed, solar, interstellar and pa...

All day yesterday I've sat inside watching the world outside and all I know is I want to linger outside: yet I didn't. Why didn't I, when that is all my life needs? I'm not house bound. Lola is, but I've just no cause to be behind these walls? Did I think I was immune to humanity?  Royal Oak might be making me consider, yet I was still sat there holding nothing dear in my grasp. Whenever I sit in a pub, café, restaurant, or other social setting, I am always trying to understand what it is which makes people speak the way they do. However I find it so difficult to listen without prejudice: judging words, actions and deeds. Suddenly I am awake again! It takes me a little time to come out of the milaise I fall into whenever I transfer from true being (walking) and unreality (not walking). My answer isn't at the bottom of a glass, can, bottle yet whenever I re-enter society from my place of isolation that is what I do. This morning I was awakened by the ...

Well this does feel strange. Everyone, including me I suppose, is doing what they always do and, since I'm stuck in Wetherby for a while, I must go out. Otherwise I'm just going to end up arguing with mother who seems to think she is going to be fine because she says she will be.  Whenever I approach a group of people I'm veering away to let them breath on each other. Yet I was forced to go get milk for mother. We lived on other foods prior to being addicted to cow's milk in our tea or coffee, etc. In Morrisons there was "zero" milk so I got out as soon as possible: with a few resources under my arms - it wasn't a suckling pig but it was two bottles of Riesling: the theory being that I could drown in wine prior to suffocating, and it's a possible "Gallic" paradoxical qualities. This morning, on my brief walk with Lola, because some wanker threw a glass on the pavement near mum's house, and Lola has lost a lot of pad (thankfull...

Scott's Pub again. I've just done the tourist thing. Luxembourg, although ridiculously expensive (€18 for a bacon cheeseburger in Scott's), is interesting. Take away the Gucci/LV/Rolex Grand Rue in Haute-Ville, because it's always there for those who have nothing better to spend their money on, and it is an interesting town. It's history stretches back into another epoch: especially below Siegfried's burg (Lucilinburhuc) in Grund by the Alzette leading to the Moselle, north-north east of here. It's noon so time for another Cheeseburger! At some point I will venture back up to the Altstadt and find the local Vino ... Time is on my side ... and I will walk to the airport as it is little more than 5 kilometres from me! I'm hogging the fire, because it's a pretty cold day outside, they forgot to turn on the radiators so everyone is getting too paranoidly close to me for comfort. What am I like... It's the "Delay" stage now. And ...

Luxembourg YH reminds me of Thameside in London: it's huge, boring and makes noises all the time! It's more modern than Thameside, but time will also ravage it's façade. And I bet, for everyone I knew in London, here in Luxembourg is an alternate reality consisting of the same politics and dynamics going on ( because Hostelling International or the Youth Hostel Association attracts the identical people through its door)! It's what makes my experience of them so consistently average. Walking is now two days ago. The slight hangover and overwhelming tiredness I had yesterday has left me, but I know I definitely need a proper unbroken night's sleep. Soon I'll be able to climb my own bed - Saturday night - and let the weariness lift! Check-out time is ten am. No need to hurry out the door, but breakfast is very tedious (cold) and coffee overwhelmingly bitter (machine vended). Persons are arriving for work to replace the night staff - soon their equivalent of Beverle...

It's 8:50 and I'm on a slow train to Luxembourg. It's fine. I found a quiet part of the carriage and am trying not to breath in too much! It was so busy in the Gare because it's rush hour and there hasn't been any formal statement by Macron about life as the French know it. Actually he's banned gatherings of 1000+ people and what is a Gare? But I've passed into Luxembourg and am a little tired! All that walking , then those few bottles of Orval and an average night's sleep. Need to sleep in a cool, clean and quiet space! I wonder if there are Amis Saint Jacques in Luxembourg City? ... Booked into the Auberge de Jeunesse, in the old low quarter of Luxembourg City, and left my rucksack. After a quick freshen up I've walked through Clausel (which seems like Truman Brewery off Brick Lane), up to the Grund and popped into Scott's, because I've been on the go since six (again). As usual I can't check into the room until 1, but then a siesta is ...