A rebel without a clue.

Since I've started finding money hidden in the litter, the new style banknotes, I am preoccupied with all the refuse around Lovell Park, but in Wetherby, where the Wombles are very active suddenly there is a gap of thrown trash: which hasn't had time to accrete. However I've not found a brass farthing around LS7! Probably because they don't have money living in that Council heap? Or there is so much litter my eyes aren't up to the job of seeing the blue, brown or purple of the fiver, tenner or twenty pound note? Still you never know? My coffers are so near to zero all the time that finding money or getting something for free is a driving factor in 'survival'. Laughable, as I don't think I'll starve soon or be evicted or run out of clothing to keep me warm ... 2022 will be different. Currently I am taking to charity all the unused items of clothes: things I haven't worn since purchased or for several years. Oh, to live ever so slightly in a time o...

On a dark night, possibly during the low of winter, I walked to or from Andrew Broughton's house, with the deep foreboding that something bad would come as a result of the stupid things which sprang from my mouth in regards Dan Wynne and my first visit to a Police Station to be formally interviewed at their convenience. Then it struck me that I had been born alone, and lonely, and was 19 and still alone and bereft of companionship to a deeper level. Things in Wetherby High School would never be the same. The high of lower 6th with 3 A grades became the absolute possiblity of Unclassified on all fronts in the Mocks of 1992... 1990/91 was a really great year at Wetherby High School however 1991/92 was it's polar twin. The prophecy that I'd spend my entire life alone, but desperate (too frantic) to connect with another soul on a different level than purely platonic, seems to be something between 1991 and 2021 I have fulfilled. Thirty barren years. Apart from the Love I've ...

Sunday morning. The stench of puke and piss lingers like the morning mist in pizza box strewn door and alley ways. * How many folks in Bar3 are in Wetherby Masonic Lodge? I bet Dan Jones is! LOL. * Sunday afternoon. To feel surrounded by folks who would only give me cold shoulder of ham or the board to sleep on, even when they have both warmth and comfort to give? This is why I struggle with Wetherby. Probably seeing something which is not there at all? After doing a shorter hour walk with Lola, where I suddenly felt the urgent need to defacate some watery faeces and used the disabled toilet in Wetherby Sports Association (luckily open because there was a game of football being played on the Ings in the grey dull moment), I went to find a copy of A Christmas Carol. To say modern Christmas is under the influence of Victorianism and Dickens is such an understatement? But I've never read that guilty little book... Since reading   the Lady in the Van  by Alan Bennett I've bec...

Back in the flat and in a freshly laundered bed at 6. Put a wash on of all the items that dog walking, etc, has soiled for the past week. The bus was on time, very few folks got on it and it stopped very infrequently along the way. Coming down North Street I jumped off opposite the flat next to Wintoun Street and was back in 69 by 5. Porridge prepared for breakfast as I head back on the first FirstBus X99, in the morning, to walk Lola again: Emma's out on the raz as Finley is over at his dad's until Wednesday. Lola definitely had the 'hump' with me yesterday and today as I had Ruby in tow: her body language is dejected and seems to have a frown. It's to be expected as we're joined at the hip, but she really likes being out with Ruby. Ruby is more 'needy' and younger and I think Lola accepts it, if not very graciously. She won't be happy on Christmas Day, as I am house and dog sitting for Ruby's owners, and we won't get our yearly special outi...

Friday again? Another working week climbs to the summit of the weekend until, like Sisyphus's boulder, it bounces to the base of the working week again on Monday. All that people want is the weekend. Desperate to lose ourselves in carnal bliss, drug fueled forgetfulness, or other pursuits, which are visible totems projecting our real needs: to escape the clutches of the meaningless levers we ceaselessly pull or push. Oh joy! T'is the season when we get a few more days, thrown in our path to stumble along, before we coming crashing down again early in January. It's all the same: none of it means anything. Yet I know people take it so seriously. Perhaps there is something (another thing!) wrong with me? So many 'good' folks pour their souls into the Christmas mold which I find mouldy, decayed and corrupted. It seems everything simple and nice has become complicated and charmless? Bah, humbug and I don't care - is it OK for me to eat plum pudding yet?

The consequence of separation is entropy. Entropy is the current state of the universe and of God's one Son. Atonement is simply the undoing of the entropic by returning to The Source. Forgiveness isn't arrogance although I've thought it was, but all it does is undo what never was. There is only one true state: Oneness, Eternal and Infinite, not the Ten Thousand Things spoken of in  Tao Te Ching (which in turn is another way of saying entropy). Forgiveness for what? For everything I (mis) perceive; which wasn't and could never be. Mum arises from Golden Slumbers on this azure clad morn.

Dirty man who frantically gobbles kebab, just kebab and lemon juice, from Zam Zam. Poor show you fool. What nutrition is found in that sliced delicacy? And heads back to the 11th floor for another mindless and uncontrollable bout of onanism before falling into yet another life shortening broken night's sleep. I'm a pitiful creature whenever I return to Leeds from the joy of my time with Lola. It was all going so well too! If only I had left when the couple from Sweden, with Siv the Weimeraner, departed for Osmotherly. But the extra two halves of a Kernel Dark Beer on a pretty empty stomach. By 3 am I was awake and at the penis again. Why? That is not the answer. Neither are all the moments from rushing to catch the X99 at 3pm... Twelve hours of mistakes; if you wish to call this a 'sin' I concur. A few days ago I actually understood the parable of the Prodigal Son. This is me currently, it is tearing me apart, but it's never too late to ask for forgiveness? From the...