Archive for May, 2015


Posted: 2015-05-31 in Uncategorized

End of a month, end of an era, or just more of the same? Wind, rain and annoying sun. Gotta get outta this place, my mindset, the people around of me. All is sodden with decay and new growth. The weeds grow aplenty. But they too will die in a few months time, so why should I bother killing them now – all is a pretence, a cycle that human eyes find problematic, tears form from pollens and allergies. Sigh. Wouldn’t it be better if we just slept through the summer?

You’ll never forget the date, when *it* happened, the great trauma. Perhaps *it* would be better thought of as a process, kind of like the loss of the eight-hour working day – certain dates and times stand out as horrible landmarks but actually saying when its genesis, exodus and Leviticus occurred, well that’s debatable and open to speculation. No matter.

You’ll never forget the time, when *it* happened, it was over a period of excruciating torture, certain dates stand out within. In truth it continues to today. The pain that humans inflict on their own kind. 

If you’ve ever been through a major tumult like that, you tend to thereafter boil everything down to before and after, no matter how trivial, again it stirs the pot and reinforces the point that you are forever changed, hollow and pained. Like, an old bottle of shampoo at the back of the cupboard, you reach in to grasp it and think that this is the first time you’ve touched this item since *that* time, the trauma, and memories flood. Betrayal. People. … Pain and objects.

You see a door handle and you remember *that day*, how you fixed a door, how you got in the car and drove to get some eggs, driving by something quite innocent-looking which actually was heinous and pivotal to the trauma and, ever since, you’ve wished you’d stopped the car and somehow stopped the process, maybe, but you weren’t to know, no sane mind should ever suspect that degree of perfidy, evil, deceit or perversion, from family members and self-righteous “good Christian folk”. If only you’d been a bit more twisted to be able to comprehend…

But instead you are left bleeding and watching the stars, at least comforted that they pre-existed and will outlast the trauma, its inception and conclusion. Not like that coin on the ground, glint catches your eye, you pick it up: shit, 2013!

War Hero.

Posted: 2015-05-29 in Thoughts For The Day

Yeah, you stand proud, medals on chest, a real paragon, saluting (oh, the visuals!) and lauded by today’s generation. Hero. Remembrance. Yeah. … Well, fuck you!

Actually, did you do (give) any more than anyone else?

Like, like, my departed grandfather who eschewed military parades in the post-war years (he knew he’d been fucked over, but politely never said it). He did a shit-load and got fuck-all out of it but broken promises and lies and slander and petty-minded relatives screwing his palms to a perverted cross. Can you really say that you faced more and survived more and delivered “us” from more evil?

No. I didn’t think so. Yet still you lap up the praise from the unknowing, and you lend your wrinkled face to advertizing campaigns. Sigh. I hate you.

Ah, the key to success for the underwear advert: make it seem as if the models are about to take off their underwear, to rid themselves of the very garment they are promoting. A strange, inverse logic for the marketer. But, of course, sexiness sells, and provided your models are attractive (aren’t they always generally so?), the suggestion that the pretty, young things are about to get naked appeals to most consumers. The rest is up to the imagination. 

Porn in your mailbox, right next to a leaflet about grass cutting and a power bill. The beauty of it is that the guilt rests with you, you sick prick, it’s you who’s having the fantasy about seeing the model naked.

Ah, the power of suggestion. The power of perversion. The power of condemnation.

Sigh, you hope your wife can’t feel the vibe coming out of you as you skip through the underwear pages and pretend to be interested in the kitchen appliances (in privacy, later, you’ll linger longer where the advertizers really want you ensnared – that girl’s crotch, covered, just (but for how long?), her breasts about to be yours as she lifts her top up, up, up … oh, lord, you’re hard, you hope your wife doesn’t notice the bulge in your pants!).


Posted: 2015-05-27 in Thoughts For The Day

And so the Allies found the “camps” – generally they were appalled.

The things that humans do to each other!

Every sense assaulted, one way or another.

People – if one wants proof of the devil then look no further.

Misery by your very appearance, fear and terror.

Quite possibly Stalin got a hard-on in 1945, May, June, fresh inspiration.

The round-up was harsh, the politics complicated yet childish. The years dragged on. John Paul II came and slew.

Still, after the fall, the polluted residue of DDR (Das Dritte Reich) settles & seeps like acid rain.

And the West today has filtered in various ingredients, slowly percolated into a fucked-up recipe where the US is happy to spend $1million per year for each soldier stationed in Afghanistan, to fight a self-made enemy of sand.

And you have the “perspicacity” to call that child born out of wedlock “illegitimate”, well society look in the mirror!

What is that strange thing between your legs? It looks kinda out of place, like an alien somewhere, somehow, staring out to see the world … you, naked and akimbo. But perhaps it is just a sign that we are increasingly detached and actual things are increasingly surreal in this virtual world.

Can I touch it? Do I want to touch it?


Posted: 2015-05-25 in Thoughts For The Day

If we feel that the 1980s seem dated (hey, watch an ep of Knight Rider), well imagine how dated the 1430s seemed to the hip residents of the 1450s!

Say, hey.

Posted: 2015-05-24 in Uncategorized

Oh, wow, I have such interesting things to say, if only you’d ask the right questions. But instead you disregard me and deprive yourself of the joy of surprise. So, screw you, screw me, screw conversation.


Posted: 2015-05-23 in Thoughts For The Day

Sad that you don’t give any gesture of appreciation for the things that I do. Sad that you point out my failings instead. Sad that I feel sad. Sad that I feel no change ahead.

Life: it’s like re-setting the time on your electric clock each day, knowing that come nightfall there will be another power cut and tomorrow you’ll have to re-set the clock again. … They say that once is nothing, well the prospect of twice (or more) is misery.


Posted: 2015-05-22 in Thoughts For The Day

It’s about wool and a uniform and a feeling of belonging and feeling of wanting to be somewhere/thing/one else. Perhaps.

Wool gets shorn off the sheep’s back.