The Gems of Celebration

Between the ages of six and sixteen I actively avoided girls. To me these creatures appeared alien; far different to my sister, as for some reason she always appeared to be normal, well at least most of the time. I expect that having to grow up with four brothers certainly aided in relating to men. I always remember that she had many friends when I was growing up, a mix of both girls and boys, my eldest brother being a mere 3 years older, they would often mix in the same social circles. I also remember from a young age my post 2nd World War Grandmother, with her cemented early 20th century cultural opinions, would express a warning to both myself and my twin brother about how girls should be avoided, as they’re cruel spiteful creatures, that are both vengeful and selfish! Of course, growing up I learnt that such opinions for the most part was nonsense and perhaps even my Grandmother’s attempt to… Well, I actually have no idea what she was trying to do!? Girls will always remain a mystery to me, but with that mystery comes a fascination, as no matter how hard I try to understand them, all that happens is that more questions get raised. Of course, I could express this bug bear to any number of female friends, all of whom would think that I was being sarcastic for it is my automatic nature, or even cruelty, a second nature. But my questions don’t lie with the individual, they lay with the entire female race. My problem? Feminism.

 All animals are equal but only some are more equal than others George Orwell – Animal Farm

Since the beginning of time women and men have co-existed. But for reasons that are often argued at the various dinner parties of the last century, men have always taken a commanding role. We have been the hunters, the warriors, the forgers and the builders. Women on the otherhand; the mothers, the cleaners and the cooks. The main reason that is often portrayed as to why women have always taken a back seat in building society is to do with their oppression from the various western incarnations of Christianity and the responsibilities from the natural yearnings of motherhood. But it was only in the 1910’s that women had ever kicked up a fuss about the role they play, why did it take them so long, and how come there were no female uprisings when things were really bad for them? Sure, men have been gits to women, using their physical strength and quickness to anger in order to rule them. But, for how long have we had swords or gun powder? If women were so pissed off with their lot in life, why didn’t they take up arms sooner against men when the physical strength was no longer a factor? In a recent survey carried out by the society against domestic abuse 78% of women in a violent relationship admitted to hitting or attacking their partners first. What’s astonishing, is that less than 6% of men conducted in the same survey admitted to hitting them back. liars, perhaps, but nonetheless, women have had so many chances to gain equality in this so called mans world, yet never before in the 20th Century have they attempted to even claim it!

    Though the sex to which I belong is considered weak you will nevertheless  find me a rock that bends to no wind. Elizabeth I 

The virgin queen of England, is perhaps one of our countries most reared historical figure heads. if it wasn’t for her, most of the English speaking world would have adopted that ridiculous lisp! She defeated the Spanish King and murdered a vast many Catholics, she was considered to be strong and independent and perhaps one of the greatest Monarchs to grace the British throne. So why wasn’t she the first feminist? She had everything, the power of the throne, the position, the respect of her people and the will of God. If she stood up in court and claimed that women were as intelligent as men, surely our world history would have played out for the better? Perhaps I need to be re-educated in such historic affairs. However I am intelligent, and can use the power of reason and logic to come to my penultimate conclusion. I know that many women wont like this or agree with it, and I completely accept such accusations may be interpreted as being sexist. But please, as you read these final paragraphs, instead of allowing them to upset, consider my arguments.

I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that  differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute. Rebecca West 

According to the national academics statistics of 2012 less than 20% of the UK’s professors were female. However, 38% of the UK’s doctors that graduated were female. In education, both sexes receive the same amount of resources, in fact, women have a distinct advantage as there are a number of female only scholarships’ that are open to women, for career paths that they are less interested in. The second to last word of that sentence is the basis for my entire conclusion. I personally think that the vast percentage of women, ie enough to have any kind of impact within a particular field, are not interested in discovery, philosophy and  problem solving. Ask yourself; how many girls do you know that enjoy space exploration, or meta physics? That actively subscribe to New Scientist Magazine or enjoy the calculations of strategy? But then, if I asked you how many girls do you know that are interested in fashion and celebrity culture, the answer will be far greater. Women often express that doors are more often than not, closed for them. However in the world of fashion, which was dominated by men up until 200 years ago, you cant escape the number of female designers that graduate from the worlds fashion schools each year. Women own fashion, its theirs and has been for the last 200 years. Based on the mass, women are the bosses of every industry that they statistically have the most amount of interest, and that leads me to my final point. The reason men have ruled over women for so long is because as a whole, they’re interested in a far greater number of subjects that the majority of women have no such interest, unfortunately for women, these subjects are often the ones that have aided us in our advancement as a species, so men are always taking the limelight for such discoveries. I have a vast number of female friends, but only a few of them are interested in politics, science and how the world works or came to be. These friends are considered gems to me. Not because they remind me of my male friends, as such a statement would be sexist! Its quite simply because, their rare and deserve to be celebrated.

The Perfect System Of The Fat Faced Fuck Wits

My fascination with Buddhist philosophy started with the common teenage misconception that all Buddhists possessed exponential marshal art fighting powers, and that knowledge of their secret teachings would make me the ultimate bad ass! Of course, as I began to look into it, with my lunch time expeditions to the school library, built partly on fascination and the other half on that of being a member of the book club, you’re able to jump the lunch time queue. What I actually discovered, was not that of how utilizing some secret mystical energy you can throw a man that’s 6 foot 3 when you’re a mere 5 foot 10 I am now actually 6 foot 1 in my favorite pair of shoes but a way in which that as a people, we can live in complete, worry free harmony. The more I read, the more this way of life appealed! But there was one particular aspect that struck a chord with me. It was a very simple message, one that only upon recently I have truly been able to put into practice, and my life as a result, shall never be the same again.

The brain is a wonderful organ; it starts working the moment you get up in the morning and does not stop until you get into the office. Robert Frost

Living in London, I’m used to seeing a vast amount of people on a daily basis. My office where I currently work is a dull yet fast past environment, one that you would certainly expect for a publishers! Everyone wants you to do this or they want you to do that, they want you to run faster than a speeding bullet to catch the deadline, make the money and then next month its the same all over again! Chasing the pound this way has been my main source of income for the last 10 years and it is a way of life I despise more than I could ever wish to express to anyone dear enough to me to read this rant of a post or even sentence! When escaping from the bounds of our 9 to 5’s ironically, and annoyingly, we find that within the 5’s to 9’s and weekends, we fill this free time with the vary services and products from companies to which we work. All of these industrialized entertainment giants waging war with one another to win your sweet favor, and ultimately the contents of your wallet! Which they in fact rewarded you with in the first place? The system is a well oiled and maintained machine, it goes round and round and everyone appears to be happy with this, yet our wages remain stagnant as their prices go up, generating more and more income for themselves, and when I say them, I mean those at the very top! Never more obvious is this issue than within the film industry.

No wonder the film industry started in the desert in California where, like all desert dwellers, they dream their buildings, rather than design them. Arthur Erickson

At the birth of agriculture some many thousand years or so ago, corn paved the way to a fresh abundance of food, allowing the vastly superior intellect of the human animals to focus on other thoughts, giving birth to philosophy and science, as supposed to concentrating every ounce of brain cells into discovering where the next meal was coming from. Corn, it would appear, has a lot to answer for. having been the most abundant food source on the planet and as incredibly diverse this fruit of the dirty is, in modern times it can be found on every continent and can grow in almost any climate. So this brings me to the question; why is it that such an abundant food source is heated up until it bursts, of which such a process barely even carries a price tag, yet in the cinema, a box of this popped corn costs an average of $8 or £5? Such an obvious display of greed, and now we are being lead to believe that such an outing is a premium experience? It costs one family around £50 to go and see the latest blockbuster. I can not understand how this is not justified considering how profitable the film industry is.Imagine for a moment how frequent you’d visit the cinema if a ticket was £3.50? Think of all the wonderfully obscure films you’d go and watch. Back in the day, I watched The Truman Show with little to any idea of how amazing that film would be, if it were to come out now, I might in the off chance catch it on DVD. Cinema and film industry people, whomever it is that decides a cinema ticket is £12 or even that popcorn is a £5. It’s fucking corn for crying out loud!! These people deserve to have the films they finance downloaded and stolen from them as they so aptly put it. These greedy fools are missing a trick. What a bunch of fat faced fuck wits!

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive. Dalai Lama

The lessons of compassion taught in Buddhism and many other religions, are lost on the people that truly have the power to make such a huge difference to the rest of humanities lives. Greed is winning the war against compassion and this world is slowly falling into a void of total darkness. Call it left wing thinking, call it socialism; the free market is being manipulated by men that are so clever that you’ll work even longer hours and take two jobs just so you can get a tiny taste of the life that they so openly and freely advertise to us, because like fame, extravagance is available to everyone, and the more you push your means to get it, the further you bridge the gap to ever actually being able to touch it.

Abomination of a Cultural Kind

There is an epidemic that has become an inflection upon certain fathers of the western world’s daughters. To them, it is an innocent thing, born out of love and happiness. A stark contrast for the rest of us, and when I say the rest of us, I am of course talking about the male population. This virus is an altogether disgusting and ugly abomination of a cultural kind, and it has to be stopped, or else future generations of men will suffer the same fate as us; complete and total hatred towards the loveliest creatures to have ever walked the planet but, if only they didn’t know it.

There is an epidemic right now of girls dumbing themselves down… in middle school because they think it makes them attractive. Danica McKellar

Princess culture has swept the world thanks wholly to a few fathers that, for some reason bow down to their daughters as if they were some precious creation that spawned from the centre of a rose as suppose to his hairy nut sack! We worship women in such a fashion that is unknown to them, apart from the instinctual need that each of these sirens feel, that of being held within a man’s eye. Surely, a father’s love for their daughter would satisfy this appetite for male attention, annoyingly for us, it doesn’t.  However, it is not the love or attention that they desire from men that is the problem; in fact I quite enjoy nothing more than filling such famine desires, after all it goes in the territory of being a devilishly handsome charmer! What is and remains the problem is the depth of the well, that has been created by these weak men. If you dropped a penny, don’t expect to ever hear a splash.

In my dreams, I could be a Princess, and that’s what I was. Like most little girls, I believed nothing less than a Prince could make my dreams come true. Loretta Young

Princesses are never satisfied. Raised with a expansive wealth of blinkered expectations, these creatures are quick to argue when uncomfortable, or made to feel second best. They’re vile, disguising creatures and are doomed with a destiny of that of the angry old lady on the bus that nobody gives up their seat. Crying herself to sleep most nights, she wonders “what went so wrong?”

All the people like us are we, and everyone else is They. Rudyard Kipling

One of the most important lessons a parent can ever teach their child is that of the importance of being aware of other people’s feelings, and that they’re no more important or better than anyone else, and certainty shouldn’t command such respect.  Nevertheless, this vital lesson in character building is lost. Parents are for the most blinded by ego, denial and regrettably the worst one of all, love.

The Joy of Bigotry

All my life I have tried desperately to be clever and taken seriously. But much to my own social demise, I am also a bit silly at times and can often fool my far more intellectual counterparts, that enjoy nothing more than to correct my Terr’s and Ferr’s, instantly, to think that I am one of those fellas that enjoys nothing more, than my own good arrogant opinion. They of course couldn’t be more wrong; as debate is something that I both love and despise. More often than not, we have two extremely arrogant in their opinions, doing battle, both fast to refer at the other as a bigot for not seeing their side of the story, and thus with sweet hidden irony are in fact bigots themselves. And this ladies and gentleman, is never more present than that of the debate of an agnostic vs atheist.

The mystery of the beginning of all things is insoluble by us; and I for one must be content to remain an agnostic. Charles Darwin

Much to the highly enjoyable ignorance of atheists, Charles Darwin was agnostic. When you look at the debate of agnostic vs atheist from a completely non basis but logical standpoint, you begin to instantly notice cracks. Now, these cracks are in fact formed on both sides. On one side we have the agnostic; humbly they stand on the fence, they don’t accept that god exists nor do they allow for themselves to realise that he definitely doesn’t. This standpoint for an atheist, is altogether infuriating; because surely if their is no evidence than how can a god exist? Or even a giant spaghetti monster? I firm favorite of Richard Dawkins. However, the agnostic is also furious at the atheists; how can you so arrogantly with all but your five senses believe to understand that a creator definitely doesn’t exist? Without doubt, the agnostic vs atheist debate is a challenging one, nevertheless It does have a surprising solution.

Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people. Eleanor Roosevelt

One of our civilizations biggest problems is that we don’t accept the fact that we are all different. within our own heads each of us is subjectively experiencing their own reality. Another mans god is another mans spaghetti monster etc. Some people find that its important to believe in a god because they were raised to believe so, and others were cast to a life where there was clearly no such evidence of a god and thus find these other people odd in the fact that they think some divine power is looking over them. One thing is certain, my universe where I live and breath and experience is completely different to Richard Dawkins. Our minds although are both human, his is for whatever reason different to mine and thus is able to look at a larger picture and be confidant with the applicability of the human mind. Myself due to my own experiences and my romantic nature cant accept a world of definition. To believe that the universe came from nothing yet is governed by laws, and that forces as complex as time, mathematics and psychics came from nothing, and were instantly there, without an evolutionary process of their own, to me is incredible; how can something as complex as time, just show up? The answer is beyond science, and ironically I myself am bigoted for thinking so. Thus we should all just accept that we don’t know, and simply get naked, move to Hawaii, dance and fuck, wearing ridiculously large grins and drinking cocktails.

A Narcissistical Mass Of Indulgence

One of the English languages most exciting words is culture. The word cult on its own sounds almost as hard and cutting as that rather favourite profanity, that most East London shaven headed types regularly spit from their toothless mouths. Culture is indeed a smashing word, and one with such an important and enjoyable meaning, as it relates to every aspect of societies urges, because ultimately; understanding or observing the culture of a people, is similar to reading the ingredients on the back of a food carton, accept of course if you happen to live in England! Without horsing around my point any further (if you pardon the pun) what I am simply trying to say is that the culture defines the people. If you really wish to understand the youth of today; what they dream, what they live for. Simply, sit back in your arm chair and tune into MTV and prepare your mind; for you are about to embark on a journey, a dark twisted exhibition, full of violence and exploitation. You will soon learn, providing that you have any degree of education, that there is currently a virus plaguing the cultural defining industries, and that ailment, is greed.

Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything. Plato

The music of the final decades of the 20th century as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, changed the world. It was almost as if the music was at a constant ten year switch; 60’s were completely different to 70’s as were the 80’s and 90’s. However, after the 00’s nothing has really moved forward. Good music is everywhere and nevertheless far more accessible thanks to the internet, but it’s not found to be at the top of the charts, why is this? Instead there, we find that the youth of today are sold no longer on up lifting tunes about love, happiness, courage and friendship. Instead it’s all about the money money money, objectifying women and promoting a dog eat dog narcissistic attitude of mass indulgence. The glorification of being a criminal or a hustler is the running theme of most top ten music videos in current circulation, and to be completely honest, it’s not surprising.

 

Greed is a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction.

Erich Fromm

 

Almost 60% of young adults drop out of school each year, many of them don’t care, nor do they understand the values of such an education, because why would they? Making money can be done far quicker if you aspire to be a criminal. First of all what these teenagers don’t realise is that what they are actually being sold into is in fact romance. Everyone wants an adventurous lifestyle, most of us; sit at home, have jobs, raise kids and blah blah blah. Where is the romance in that? The reason that these types of lifestyles appeal to young children is because it’s exciting. The education system has a lot to learn if it wants to get these kids away from the allure of quick bucks and expensive parties where the champagne flows like lemonade at a nine year olds birthday party! The easiest way to go about this is make school interesting and appealing for young adults. Art classes can focus on graffiti or even sports can incorporate skateboarding, and English class, Rap Music! Regardless of the changes that many schools across the world have already started to introduce, the culture of the western youth has lost its way, and is perhaps past saving. Certainly our rebellious nature to outdo what may have been done previously, at a constant rate of bettering the generation before with extremity, is surely an accelerator that needs to be grounded to a halt. But who is responsible for all of this? Is it the artists that create the music? The producers that tell them that this “type” of music sells? So is it the people that buy it, and if so, why? When one ponders these notions it soon becomes clear that the real underlining problem is not the school systems that are set in place; it’s capitalism, and the overwhelming feeling, of wanting power.

Capitalism has destroyed our belief in any effective power but that of self interest backed by force. George Bernard Shaw

The Occupy Movement spread around the world faster than the ascent of a Dubai skyscraper! The movement won the awareness that hope for a unified utopia, is in fact not lost. There are a group of people, all of whom are educated in the knowledge that capitalism is the core root of almost every problem we face as a society. However, there is an even bigger problem, we have no idea what we would replace it with, and people are far too attached to their big houses and fancy lives to think otherwise. Small changes here and there can help; certainly to move people in the right direction! But providing that the super rich exist, there will always be greed. Perhaps the Music industry, in order to cope with the losses of money that its currently making from downloads, will start to look at new talent, and maybe even artists that sing an altogether different tune..

I come to you as a man with no agenda, it brings me sadness to see us all surrender, we’ve set our expectations so low, that any talentless sell out can have their own show. Antix

I Don’t Like Space!

these twats

Thankfully, it’s not often that you’ll hear such inane words uttered, unless that is of course if you’re unfortunate enough to be caught up in a relationship with a type that requires the constant graces of your charmingly exquisite attention and affections. Nevertheless, these words when strung together in an entirely different context are rare, but rather annoyingly, find you mostly at the dinner parties of your slightly richer friends; where you are sadly placed next to the usual double act of the insufferable bore on steroids and the misguided self-obsessive with the daddy issues “I don’t like space!” To have the sheer miss luck to have ones fate navigate your tender ears within range of such a behemoths idiotic muse; the green light is lit instantly on compassionate grounds for you to deliver the said fool with as many a screaming hell marry fists of a thousand suns backhanders as your mitts can muster! However, it is very rare that our lugholes are subjected to such vile opinion, simply because the war of the alphas has ended, and thus we are now in the age of wonder and insight. It is all thanks to the rather glorious defeat of these lesser minded throw your fists first ask questions later crowd. For the badge of cool is now donned by the most unexpected of all social groupings, and nobody, not even the most savvy of us, ever saw it coming.

The term ‘geek’ for me is like you having a passion, interest in something that is unabashed and you don’t care if people think it’s not cool. You think it’s cool and that’s your thing.

Dominic Monaghan

Geeks at work at the F1

Fashion, culture and even sport would be unable to progress in the computing and information age if it wasn’t for the geek. This re-crowning of the king ironically began in the school playground; the bigger boys who would play football for the school team together with the girls that cheered for them all peaked too early. As teenagers, they had their end of school ball, their fame and short lived moment of feeling like the world was at their feet. Now, most have jobs at KFC or work in a retail store, 26 years in, they have 3 children and a council house. However, the journey of the kid reading the comic book while the rest of his classroom chums kick a piece of pig skin around, is an altogether different story.

It is that, but really, it’s about how we don’t recognise the little things in life, or appreciate the little things in life like belonging. A sense of belonging is a big thing today. James Caan

Feeling like you don’t fit into a group as a teenager is a perhaps one of the most stressful and saddling experiences of a growing persons life, up to that point. I often hear adults say to their teenage sons or daughters “you think you have problems, just wait until you have a mortgage” and blah blah blah dull adult worries .. Yet, many adults are blinded by egos that are charged with delusional grander, as it’s all about personal perspective. Self inward types would never understand such problems. However, stress is stress and worry, worry! Regardless of the age you might be or level of experiences you may have on this dusty rock. The feeling of “not fitting in” at a time when you are just starting to discover who you are, is a very harrowing experience indeed. Sheep, the people that don’t want to stand out but wish to be accepted, will of course break to various lengths to fit in; the haircut, the jacket and the shoes, all of which mean identity. But to admit at that age that you like what you like and that won’t change, regardless of the grain, personally, I feel takes a lot of guts, so no wonder we are currently where we are as humans. It is these geeks that are helping to shape our world, and when the gates finally open to the final Utopia, you can be sure who will be stood there at the gates, holding the keys.

Eve, The Unknown Prophet

I have always had a seasonal diet; root vegetable packed stews and roast dinners during those dreadfully cold London winter months. As spring approaches Italian dishes slowly make their delicious way back to my palette, with the Easter bank holiday traditionally filled with various visits to Carluccio’s. Myself and metro friends dine alfresco, desperately pretending to ourselves that summer has finally returned. It is during those sparse months that my summer body decides that fruit will once again replace the various chocolate bars that my winter body absorbed; simply to tackle the hibernation that only my immune system appears lucky enough to take. However odd my affair with fruit, it is a stark contrast to that of the fairer sexes. Ladies, it would appear, love eating fruit no matter the season, and it is for this reason that perhaps, one of the largest challenges of the technology era has finally been overcome.

I measure the progress of a community by the degree of progress which women have achieved. B. R. Ambedkar

It has been a vast shame that for several decades the interests of the female technology market have been ignored. This could be because there simply hasn’t been a demand up until late, or is due to sexual discrimination from a marketing perspective? Nevertheless, who are you going to hold to account, everyone? I speak for a number of men that when I say that growing up playing video games, with that group of best friends was your teenage god given right! Locked away together from the adult world, we would do battle on a daily basis with foes far greater than that of a cartoonists imagination, bashing our thumbs to the beat of the entire Appetite for Destruction album! Regardless of how much fun we had, how much better would it have been if we had girls who were also interested in the games we played, not only from a fun aspect, but from a social one as well? I would often ponder this, confused at how puzzle lead games, with cute characters didn’t appeal to girls. With the late 90’s boom of the laptop, the early 00’s saw a multitude of computers purchased by young women needing them for school and university, but how many owned them for recessional purposes?

An independent marketing survey carried out at that time found that as much as 84% of women purchasing laptops and home computers were done so for educational and professional purposes. Yet, in the same survey 74% of men purchasing laptops did so purely for recreational purposes. The truth is that women didn’t buy laptops because of that of ‘want’ they simply needed them to get by. Companies such as Compaq, Sony and even the giant Microsoft were missing a huge untapped market. Then out of the towers of complex cables and jargon heavy manuals finally came that much needed beacon of light.

Design is not just what it looks like and feels like. Design is how it works. Steve Jobs

Enter the company with it’s fruit symbolised branding. They were indeed clever enough to realise that the only way you’ll ever appeal to this vast untapped market, was by simply not having the most advanced tech that requires a 300 page manual, but by simply making their products beautiful, elegant and fashionable. It all started with the iPod. Apple invented not only the best MP3 players on the market, but they also designed it to very simplistic specifications that, like it or not feminists appealed to the majority of young women. Combine this with funky stylised advertising, TV adverts that could only compare to Gap‘s with its fresh feel, clear message, and subliminal after feeling that owning this product will make your life exceptionally cool.

Throw in the only pair of white headphones on the market, that clearly indicate that you’re one of those blessed with an ultra-awesome life that everybody wants, and you’ve got yourself a marketing campaign worthy of the gods! They turned girls from needing tech products into wanting them, and then this turned their products into a trend which finally created the most power marketing affect that every brand wants for its flagship product; they turned that want back into a need, but this need is different, it’s the type where you know you need it, but you could never justify the reason why.

Follow sound business trends, not fashion trends. Janice Dickinson

Apple’s marketing team and designers are the most savvy on the planet. Even to the point that Apple in the last few years released a new flagship product, the iPad, and nobody even needed them, there wasn’t even a market for it! This alone demonstrates the power of design combined with fashion. Exploiting the needs of a group can be incredibly beneficial. Take for example the pink pound (or dollar as it’s called over the pond), Homosexual men have a huge influence over the female market “if you win the gays, you win the women”. However, influence can stream purely by owning one of the other products in the first instance, because as I type this post out in my iPhone’s note section, there is this little voice saying to me “imagine how streamlined this would be if you were typing it on an iPad?” This power is one that every company wants at the core for its products branding, for our little voices to whisper “go on, you know you want to!” Apple has made gadgets that appeal to women, for the simple reason they have exploited us as stereotypes, because that really is, all that we are.

A Prosperous Deception

I will never enjoy watching the Walton’s. Not for the reason of popular assumption, that the relations between the two older siblings were so uncomfortably flirtatious. Nor to the fact that they lived in a perpetual state of poverty despite owning an entire mountain! My distaste for this vile family came from my dear mother’s utter love for it and her forced weekly exposure, during our family ritual of Sunday lunch. Whenever I am unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of this depressingly positive show of family values, hidden incest and that ‘slit ya wrists’ dreary soundtrack, the taste of my mother’s over cooked chicken and the stuffed tummy that shortly follows, is quick to fill my memory. Chicken was, despite my complete love affair with lamb, regrettably always on the menu. Being the cheapest meat to buy for such a large amount, it is the ideal choice for feeding a family of our size; my twin brother and I would each get a leg, Steven the youngest would get a small portion of breast, my Mother and Step Father would get the left over cuttings and the wings, my dear sister would of course get her fare share and rather frustratingly, never finish eating it. When the price is so cheap, however bland it maybe, families are always inclined to purchase such excellent deals, completely oblivious to the reason this meat is as ridiculously cheap, the story of the chickens life a brutal tortuous one, that would make all of their forks curl at the very knowledge! With this in mind, when a highly branded family values company, produce a product and bring it to market, they would never use the masses of poorer families to make money and exploit this natural impulse to spend as little to gain as much, Surely such beasts don’t exist, do they?

Certainly, it seems true enough that there’s a good deal of irony in the world… I mean, if you live in a world full of politicians and advertising, there’s obviously a lot of deception. Kenneth Koch

Fooling the masses into thinking that the food they’re buying is one thing, but in actual fact is another, far cheaper alternative, echoes the fictitious mass producing actions of a government controlled dystopian diet. However, this is not 1984, and we as consumers have rights, or at least we do if we are ever lucky enough for the many watch dog unions set in place to protect us end users from any kind of contamination, harmful, unethical or otherwise happen by complete chance, to find out. Nevertheless, the Horsemeat scandal could in fact be a huge blessing in disguise. Certainly not for the viciously vast companies involved that could ever allow for such contamination:

• The abattoirs
• The factory
• The company
• The supermarket that clearly has no idea what it’s putting on its shelve

In an age of triple dip recessions, these companies are declaring profits in the billions, which certainly make sense considering all the corners they’ve cut, and this begs to ask the question; what other avenues are being exploited? Regardless of their success through our blindness, the fated conclusion to this repulsive deception is about to be served to them and thankfully us; and it is a dish served as wholesome and romantic as it is ironic.

We cannot seek achievement for ourselves and forget about progress and prosperity for our community… Our ambitions must be broad enough to include the aspirations and needs of others, for their sakes and for our own. Cesar Chavez

With no clear signs of abating, the Horsemeat scandal trots on, with the Food Standards Agency now calling for an inquiry into how non-beef products ended up in supermarket burgers and processed food. Enter the trustworthy independent family butcher. Butchers have had a tough semicentennial. Unable to compete with the staggeringly low prices of Tesco’s and the like, these butchers are slowly returning to their former glory. News of these processed meats being shipped from foreign, cheaper lands, the consumers habits are evolving, and as a result local butchers have seen a 30% increase in sales. Former Labour environment minister Ben Bradshaw has said he would not buy or eat processed beef products, because the government cannot offer assurances about what is in them. This is indeed wonderful news for UK farmers and butchers alike. As it would certainly appear that meat, is finally coming home.

Wrath Awaits From Within

There is nothing worse than not having your voice heard. Ask any intelligent teenager that is unfortunate enough to be born into a family of imbeciles that, by simply not being an idiot you’re ironically branded as one? This is a highly frustrating place to find oneself however; as the teenager comes of age, he learns that actually, he was the idiot all along. Those terrible fits of spoilt rage were often expelled without a thought of reason or consequence. It is this ability to judge actions that ultimately separates the intelligent by the dumb; the selfish from the generous, and of course the boy from the man.

A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.
William Shakespeare

Characters of boy kings can be found in literature throughout the centuries. They’re normally stereotyped as the overzealous tyrant; always “the shouter of a little shit”, hell bent on proving to his doubtful people and enemy kingdoms that he is indeed worthy of their respect as a supreme leader, and should command every ounce of it! This gaining of respect is executed with various degrees of ferocity; executions of the disagreeing royal advisers is a popular plot point, you’ll find them around chapter 18 being highly surprised that the King would ever do such a thing! An unlucky outspoken fellow, tends to fashion a hearty beard, and notably due to the friendship that this adviser had with the young kings father as they are about the same age, this ‘would be’ father figure to the orphan king, finds his head swiftly removed! Our young monarch sprog however, orders his head along with his Uncle Gerald’s to be delivered on spikes no later than afternoon archery class. With this overwhelming abundance of naive paranoia, the young king destroys his kingdom from within. Command after command of poor thoughtless judgements. Thankfully in the real world, we are rarely plagued by these shits, yet regrettably, through rite of passage and heir, the Western World has one such nemesis; a highly dangerous enemy, that unfortunately for us, commands the third largest army in the world.

We have it. The smoking gun. The evidence. The potential weapon of mass destruction we have been looking for as our pretext of invading Iraq. There’s just one problem – it’s in North Korea. Jon Stewart

Being “born of heaven” can certainly have its perks, especially if you happen to be the second child of a dynasty that is all together ridiculous. In early 2012 you should have been turning 27, but instead you’ve aged three years due to the fact that, with you now turning 30, your dead Dad is also turning 70 and even deader Grandfather turning 100! Together this coincidence would make for an amazing news story, wouldn’t it? Well, it would if you happen to be in charge of a country where you, your father and grandfather, are the central idols worshiped in the personality cult driven ideology that is that of a nation spiraling helplessly out of control, an economy where a cartoon of eggs would cost you £276.54p. The Earth is infertile and you, new boy leader, are as fat as a man that eats up his own daily servings of bullshit propaganda, creating a pudding like face that would put to envious shame both David Cameron and Jamie Oliver. North Korea’s newest gift from the heavens Kim Jong Un has made a terrible mistake. Not for that of one that will cause an invasion on his flea riddled soil, but that of anger from within. Once the aid stops, and it will the people of North Korea will start to see through the elaborate mask of cult; for there is one force that blesses all human beings, we may not use it as often as we should, but all it takes is for there to be a reason to call upon it. Regrettably that reason is always death and no matter what your religious or moral standpoint is, with unjust death, riding slowly behind him is that awesome might of wrath.

On wrongs swift vengeance waits.
Alexander Pope

In the wake of the North Korean nuclear test, we, as other fellow citizens of the Earth, shouldn’t worry. When a group of people loose loved ones from that of the failings of their government, not a lot gets done about it. However, when you look at the Russian Revolution, the people were so starving that brothers and sisters were starting to die, and the only direction they could expel their blame was towards that of the frame work that governed them. If all of the aid that counties of the world give North Korea stops, they will have a revolution on their hands, regardless of the cult that surrounds their dear leaders family. People are remarkably good at getting angry, and this boy king was a fool for ever thinking or allowing such a test to take place, for as all good, experienced men of the world know; actions will always result in consequences.

Farewell, Immutable One

portrait by Morgan Penn

When I reflect on the utter shambles that was my secondary education, all that really tends to stand out was my trying desperately to win the affections of my flavor of the week, which almost always fell upon my Mathematics teacher Miss Cranswick. Rejecting my naive passes each and every single time, I am also reminded, with great fondness, of the various schemes and plans that were put in place in order to avoid that brute of flesh and pain, my nemesis Mr Green, the PE teacher. Having being somewhat of a selfish child my PE school report would almost always reflect that of my flair for individual events. Regrettably, it would also never fail to mention how profoundly useless I was at team outings, such as that dreaded and reared enemy of mine; a game that was designed to be played by gentlemen yet it has been monopolised by hooligans, egocentric primates and gym fairy’s. Yet, it is through refection of this mass of wanting hatred that I have in fact, come to realise that it is not the game that conjures up deep rooted feelings of sheer, unstoppable rage, but from those rather dull personalities; the players, fans and all other men that are deeply devoted to it. The game is of course football, and the men I speak are of are the self proclaimed “lads”, or as the rest of us with IQ’s higher than 150 like to call them, twats.

You can’t be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline. It helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a beer.
Frank Zappa

After further investigation I discovered that the reason behind my anger was firstly because I cant play the dam game and secondly, due to the teenage “kick about up the park” horrifyingly primal selection process, where if you’re unlucky enough to the dreaded last player to be picked, it leaves your young and soft tender mind filled with doubts to practically every aspect of your character. This rejection from my countries most celebrated game, did and continues to fuel my hatred for it, and begs me to ask the question; why would anyone want to be a part of something that ultimately has a history of rejecting them, forcing an assemblage of people to think that their natural behaviour is wrong, and some extreme cases complete evil? The case to which I am now referring to is no game, nor is the victims’ anger that that is generated ultimately, by jealously; it is that of wanting acceptance. Because like everyone on God’s celebrated green Earth, all that we want is to simply feel normal.

Nobody realises that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal. Albert Camus

The two angels arrived at Sodom in the evening, and Lot was sitting in the gateway of the city. When he saw them, he got up to meet them and bowed down with his face to the ground. “My lords,” he said, “please turn aside to your servant’s house. You can wash your feet and spend the night and then go on your way early in the morning.”

“No,” they answered, “we will spend the night in the square.”

But he insisted so strongly that they did go with him and entered his house. He prepared a meal for them, baking bread without yeast, and they ate. Before they had gone to bed, all the men from every part of the city of Sodom—both young and old—surrounded the house. They called to Lot, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we can have sex with them.”

Shortly after those events in Sodom unfolded, God destroyed the city, purging it of all the wickedness that filled it. Later in this story there is also a reference to how Lot’s daughters rape their father, in order to keep their bloodline pure. Regardless of the ridiculousness that follows, this passage is the only mention of homosexuality in the Bible. It is pretty clear that it’s a negative story and that from a Christian perspective, homosexuals are considered wicked. Times have of course changed and now we are faced with a massive cultural shift and rather odd demand. Homosexual men and women wish to be married into a church that has since its very creation, over 2000 years ago, deemed them and only in the last 40 years I might add, have they changed their minds, some of them to be the work of the Devil, and that their sexual desires toward one another, spawned from a dark and evil plan, to wipe humanity from the face of the Earth! Why then, with civil partnerships already popular and as law binding as that of a marriage, would a gay couple wish to have their Earthy connection verified by a God that has had them wrong, for the last two millennial? If you’re reading this and happen to be gay and wish to be married by the bigots of these churches, please feel free to comment and explain to me why you would ever want to worship a God, that ultimately and completely, hates you. If gay marriage is ever allowed to be a part of the Christian tradition, surely that goes against their fact that Gods word is immutable? This would mean that he, the great creator and artist, that created from the universe a being, that can view itself subjectively, doesn’t even exist.

How to Lucid Dream

Anything is possible and here you realise that with a single thought you can materialise into being whatever your imagination, has the creative clout to muster! Triggered by various positive energies such as life’s aims coming into alinement. Your subconscious rewards you with a moment, that when subjected; fills you with all the joys that only ultimate freedom could ever give you. Together in our waking life we all share the bonds of invisible forces that keep our feet firmly planted to this rugged rock, of stone and mud. Time continues to move forward and everything is definitely, real. However, in that other magical place, your feet can leave the ground with a simple, willful gesture, that is of course providing that you’re not distracted, by somebody else, simply trying to say hello.

Dreams are illustrations… from the book your soul is writing about you. Marsha Norman

I appear to be dreaming less and less as I get older. Yet, when I am lucky enough to experience this other worldly indulgence, it is almost always of late, a lucid dream. Lucid dreaming is when you become aware within your dream that you are in fact asleep. Normally when a person experiences this, they wake almost instantaneously. Nevertheless, there are those other times; where upon the realisation of which will take you off from the ground, sweeping under bridges, racing up the sides of buildings and buzzing radio towers! Everything and anything is possible, a virtual reality indulgence that doesn’t cause carpool tunnel syndrome on your wrists, or turn you seriously anti social. It is a highly powerful experience, that is easier to achieve, than you might think.

Swift, penetrating silence fills the room, like the dissonant hush heard when falling through the sheets into a lucid dream where even then, absolute control is a fantasy. Kathleen Shayna

A few years ago I was introduced to a rather excellent documentary. The film was focused on a main character that attempts to navigate his way through a world that he is finding hard to justify as being real. He eventually decides that he is in fact dreaming, and each person that he meets takes him further down the rabbit hole of that dream, leading ultimately to what it means to experience such a thing. In one particular encounter the protagonist meets a man that explains how lucid dreaming is archived. “When we dream, we have no concept of time, thus if you look at a clock or digital display, the numbers are in fact jumbled, as are the words in books or on newspapers fall off. Another trick is to press a light switch, as in dreamland light delays for some time, so let these triggers happen, and realise you’re dreaming, when you do finally relax, the fun begins!” However, if your home is one that resides in the 21st century, chances are you’ve already used to the delay that is caused by energy saving lightbulbs. Enter Dream Nova! This product was sold in the US during the mid 90’s for over $1000 each! Worn when sleeping, the device blasts flashing red lights directly into your retinas during REM (rapid eye moment) alerting you when experiencing a dream that you are in fact, in a dream, thus making you able to experience a lucid dream. Do they work? If they did, I imagine that the popularity due from all the word of mouth would have made this device, as popular as the ipod. Lucid dreaming is heavily regarded as a skill, that it can be developed like most skills, through practice. Inexperienced lucid dreamers often report that when flying, they can only fly a few feet, or find it extremely difficult to make things materialise, these are common problems that all beginners face, as its your mind refusing to believe that what you’re doing is possible. The best way to think about this is to refer back to that other awesome film and its two god awful sequels. There is no spoon!

I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart so long. If we’re in each others dreams, we can play together all night. Bill Watterson

Gravity is very much a part of knowing that the world in which we are all awake in, or the waking life, is in fact our reality. In lucid dreamer talk, this is called a dream sign. For example if you think that there is a chance that the reality that you’re currently experiencing, might be a dream; jump as hard and as high as you can, and see what happens. In reality this wont be very far. However, in the dream world anything could happen when you perform this action. Every veteran lucid dreamer will have different triggers or dream signs. Personally, mine is my Grandmother. I dream about her all of the time, she’s normally always asking me to shine my shoes before I go to work, or explaining how shes really proud of the men that my brother and I have become. My Grandmother died in 1995 and I know that when ever I see her, I’m dreaming. so after a telling off from her I explore my grandmother’s house, a perfectly rendered home, even Brandy her dog is there, excited as always to have company. I know that I should be flying around at this point, taking full advantage of my lucid experience, but all I can do is look at my grandmother, and tell her how much I miss her. Now, isn’t that worth the effort?

Dawn Of The New Romantics

When I was a young boy living in the shared bedroom at the old family home, my brother and I would jump across from one bed to the other, convinced that the more we did this, vast super powers of flight were being stowed upon us and that he and I would become eventually, the crime fighting superhero double act! This of course and unfortunately never came into fruition, mostly due to my brothers urge to travel to Oxford and become an actor, and my decision that such dreams should be locked away, in the memories of a happy, carefree childhood. However despite this disregard for the realisation of an impossible dream, fragments have stayed with us; they hide laying dormant until they hear that remarkable fanfare from Superman or Star Wars, tunes so inspiring; they would have you believe that anything in your life was possible! Shivers race up our spines and thoughts of heroism fill our bodies, flooding ours minds, for we are part of a league of men unlike most. We are not the metrosexuals or the insecure gym fairies, nor are we the footballing wannabes; we are quite simply, the romantics.

A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure. Charlie Chaplin

Overlooked and misunderstood by many, this select group of men are not boys with wide eyed unachievable dreams, they are built by passion, driven by adventure and succeed in every aspect of their life. They read people in order to gain tolerance of opinions, and enjoy the artistic efforts of others gifted and driven to achieving such skill. Emotionally intelligent they talk about feelings and reflect on past experiences. Any story from any genre can affect them, and certain scores of music can even make them cry. They never forget the fate navigators, that step briefly into their world leaving various lessons or fond memories behind. A soul that is forever pensive and forthcoming, an excellent host and sublime conversationalist. Ready to defend his opinions with tolerance of others feelings and mistakes, quick to forgive, slow to forget. A man who spends his money, as he knows that death can come at anytime, unafraid for what uncertain adventures could such an experience bring. His heart hangs from his sleeve, his emotions roll from the tip of his tongue. A man that is full of more love than any friend could ever wish to share, and any lover wishes to behold. A kind and gentle man that wants nothing more than to keep you laughing.

Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend. Albert Camus

A Play Of Repugnance

Colour is the most ignored of everyday elements. Only until pondered can the quantity of it’s vast applications become truly realised. One such appliance to which this mystical resource can be applied, came to me in a daydream, looking back on various past engagements with an individual whose colour is regrettably that of a dull beige; formless, subtle and frustratingly dull.

The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love colour the most.

John Ruskin

In another universe there sits a man who looks just like me, he’s busy, just as I am, typing away, sat comfortably in his home. Enjoying what would appear to be a stolen weekend; a cup of the finest earl grey cools on his desk, and gradually this extremely handsome fellow makes his way through the various Christmas chocolates – courteously of the adoring aunts. Having yet another opportunity to write about a subject matter to which he has explored for a time, namely on this occasion that time was, the commute ride home. He wishes to share the thoughts with others, simply for the joy of sharing such experiences, perhaps a positive lesson to be passed from one stranger to another? But unfortunately reader, you and I are in the same universe, and I am not writing as I wish to share anything of positivity, as regrettably, it’s a warning. I have always tried to approach situations with my own selfish thoughts and feelings removed, so that I have a clear mind that is set to fairness, in order to give strangers that might happen to enter my life, a fair chance to winning a friendship together equally, or otherwise. But sometimes there comes a person, whose contagious weakness oozes out from the holes of their hollow, empty promises.

Hate is too strong an emotion to waste on someone, you don’t like The Most Intelligent Of Men

My colour has and will always be, red; I am a driven and hungry individual whose thoughts and feelings often rage, mostly due to my unquenchable thirst for adventure! Such thoughts and feelings escape, as tenacious as the master that conjured them. Simply to allow the accommodation of an individual that has wanted nothing more than to feed off of my exquisite attention giving abilities, obvious attractions and good honest nature; for fear of their own loneliness and need for appreciation. Had it not for my own selfish desires to be more to them, than had been permitted or ever promised, you, dear reader would not have had how ever many moments taken from you, as you digest this rant, and for that, I am deeply sorry. Locked in battle against my gut, during that rather epic play of repugnance, I was being fooled, by a young girl’s whims for daily attention, convinced to actually believing her need was that of calling for me, as if she missed the man that she potential needs, only to find that when plans of being together were put in place, they would get cancelled, or if left in her court to follow up, nothing would be done. Of course their are reasons for this, but self severing emotional animals, that don’t understand themselves will always struggle to understand how their words may affect the ones to which they so fleetingly hold promise. And with this very experience now many years behind me, I realise all along that my need for a girl in my life then, was in vain and what I actually needed, was what all men, real men, desire the most.

I have a woman’s body and a child’s emotions. Elizabeth Taylor

I am a great champion for never letting go of your childhood. It is the most important part of life as it shapes us as people. As adults our inner child is what makes us fun to be around, it keeps us interesting and keeps us interested, as their is nothing more inquisitive than a child’s quest for knowledge why ever else would they use the word “why” so much? Nevertheless, the inner child, much like the universal force that binds the galaxy together, has a dark-side. This evil part of ones inner most fun can dominate to the point that it controls the persona of the individual, to which it inhabits. Taking over decision making, self awareness and most importantly, emotional intelligence. It creates a persons ego, which then controls its very actions and reactions to everyday life. More often than not such people are prone to telling lies. The lies inflict a state of chaos on the last person that they would ever want to hurt, themselves. Worlds are created within this epic ego, to the point that consequences are feared then quickly covered up with more lies. Their blindness to such behavior and failure to understand how or why such actions are important, or upsetting to others, is the result of a constant admiration. These people are easy to spot on social networking sites; simply look for the profile photographs clearly taken by ones self in full make-up fashioning the classic pout, or super wide doe eyes. Arrogance and confidence are always mistaken by the shotgun judges, this is something else entirely. Arrogance is a form of narcissism, whereby you think you’re amazing and that everybody else….. what, other people exist?

Weakness of attitude becomes weakness of character.
Albert Einstein

Weak people sit on the fence, enjoy a mundane existence, are self appreciative and highly dangerous. They have the power to bring out in you a persona of pure anger; resulting in actions you never thought yourself capable, as you attempt to reach to the real person that resides within the depths of all that bravado. However rest assured, the real version exists, it will take a while for it to come out of them, but its there, when they finally get over themselves and stop looking inward, ironically they’ll find what it truly means to be human, the next plane will be waiting for them, but unfortunately, I wont be.

The Fog Filled Minds Of The socially Cursed

Lets be honest, we all have them, don’t we? Those that with the simple utter of a spoken word, delivered at a pitch to avoid the chance of not being heard; had it not for the ridiculous parties stereo pumping those god awful beats! Yet through their social curse, they struggle tremendously to gauge the exact level, and their cumbersome voice bellows with an uncomfortable awkwardness across the heavily packed room. The atmosphere suddenly thickens to a density that could only ever be cut by the sharpness of the daggers, you now find yourself met with from your fellow party guests.“For whatever possessed you to extend an invitation to such a strange fellow?” You instantly come to your geeky chums defense, with an obviously poorly delivered “pretend giggle” aka – The he was only joking laugh. You sympathize why they’re upset, nevertheless despite his two left feet, biscuit crumb textured jumper and wallet fitted with loose change section protected with a sturdy brass zipper, there is what many would label, an utter genius. However it is this academically charged badge that we allow to be pinned on such types that could easily be the reason why our government is, and continues, to fail the understandings of the everyday, everybody else’s.

Solutions are not the answer. Richard Nixon

“Hey chaps, let’s go and fuck up the country what”

I am a great fan of people deserving the lives that they lead, however I am often confused and pushed into a corner of complete bewilderment when I learn that a social retard is the head of the labour party. Nevertheless I am the fool, as all politicians are pretty much out of touch with the rest of us and to think otherwise, as many of my yank friends would say, would be wack! Privately educated they are conditioned into a world of elitist thinking, trained in the art of political language, which one of my all time favorite writers once quoted, that such language is designed to make lies truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. Speaking of wind, Edward Miliband is a favorite of mine, simply because he’s considered to be extremely smart – In 1972 he took up a post at Leeds University as a Professor of Politics and in the early part of the 2000’s (or naughties, I have no idea what we call this decade, the ones or tens perhaps?) he became a Harvard professor, teaching economics while on a sabbatical from British Politics. Clearly a very gifted man, with a CV that’s worthy of any party leader, or even, Prime Minster.

The British Constitution has always been puzzling and always will be. Queen Elizabeth II

However, in the later part of 2012 the Queen gave her yearly address to parliament, which is televised in the UK by those who say “hey we always stand on the fence” smug faced gits over at that ridiculous place called White City, where you’ll find over a thousand Moby lookalikes aka men who don’t need glasses fashioning them, people talk at you with their eyes closed, and black people are forced to high five white guys. During this broadcast, dear old Ed, only moments after the queen had finished her address, naively turns to his nemesis and fellow pudding faced, bitter rival for the “real” throne, and says “are we supposed to clap?”

It is a thousand times better to have common sense without education than to have education without common sense. Robert Green Ingersoll

Understanding the world and its people is a life long practice, that can only really be taught by being a real human being, and take the time out from your life to understanding the common man. I have often thought that if a politician wanted to rule (or run should I say!) a country that requires you to get votes by normal everyday people, then surely you would muck in with the common man? Go and work a few months down the mine, go and porter at a hospital, go and work in a mundane call centre, or really push the boat out and train as a prison officer in an attempt to understanding the criminal mind. Get to know the people and the problems that they face. The labour party is as much of a joke as the basic PR point system that it currently expedients. “the government is going to say this, so we are going to say that we will do the exact opposite”. When we had the hung parliament in the last general election, imagine for a moment, the amount of respect that Nick Clegg would have engaged, had he said that he wouldn’t team up with the conservatives. They wanted extremely different polices, nevertheless they rolled over on such issues, simply to be part of the hand that binds the rest of us.

The Fleeting Capitalist

A lot can be said of the friends that I am fortunate enough to keep, truly remarkable types, that understand that being fun is the key that opens up the vault of universal possibilities, and it is this very reason that life exists; I mean why would there be so many trees, if not for the great earth mother having put them there? Purely it seems, for the sons of man to climb and carve fleeting infatuations deeply set forever, in their coarse bark. The Earth is indeed one giant playground for us, and all those other critters that kick about eating each other like the bohemians found at a fashion show after party. However there are also those that don’t see the earth this way, one group takes things very seriously indeed and enjoy nothing more than to label the fun types a silly old lot! Yet there is a further group that, if you happen to have ever had the Miss fortune to be cornered by at a party, will enjoy nothing more than regurgitate in a rather transparent fashion, that mankind as a whole, still has a very long way to go.

Out  of 6 billion humans, the troublemakers are just a handful
Dalai Lama

We are often told, usually after a bad decision has come to pass, that we get one life, and should endeavour to make the most of it before it is too late. From almost every major religion there is a general agreeable fact that there are two forces at work in the universe; the good guys and the bad guys. I have come to believe of late, that various religions talk a lot of sense, some of course don’t, and the behaviour of one particular for the last 1000 years has been somewhat of a “see you next Tuesday” type! Nevertheless, some of their teachings are moral and just, but there is one particular sect, that certainly for me, time and time again, whenever I am fortunate enough to find its text under my nose or engage in conversation with an individual that clearly knows more about it than I, and like a puppy about to be taken for his first walkkies, am fixed with excitement and agreeable concourse, for it is the only religion that I honestly feel, makes perfect sense.

I am not afraid of an army of lions led by a sheep; I am  afraid of an army of sheep led by a lion.

Alexander  the Great

I have for a long time held a fascination in the ancient worlds of yonder years. The Greeks and their most popular son Alexander The Great (who was actually Macedonian) is almost certainly my favourite. The birth place of the western world, a great many of their customs and love of extravagance still resonates on the high streets today. This love of material possessions cast a rather extreme contrast with the goings on of the far East, and most notably the Philosopher Diogenes. Shortly after Alexander had conquered the known world, many statesmen and philosophers came to Alexander with their offerings of congratulations, and he expected that Diogenes would also make the very same effort – he didn’t, infact he was too busy living in a large pot close to the temple steps in Craneion. Since that Philosopher took not the slightest notice of Alexander, and continued to enjoy his leisure, Alexander went in person to see him; and he found him lying in the sun, living as he had for years since treating the exercise of poverty a virtual.  Diogenes raised himself up a little when he saw so many people coming towards him, and then fixed his eyes upon Alexander. When the Monarch addressed him with greetings, amused with the popular Philosophers way of life Alexander offered him anything he wished from his expansive freshly conquered kingdom,”Yes,” answered Diogenes, “I would very much like you stand a little out of my sun.” It is said that Alexander was so struck by this, and admired so much the haughtiness and grandeur of the man who had nothing but scorn for him, that he said to his followers, who were laughing and jesting about the philosopher as they went away, “But truly, if I were not Alexander, I would very much like to be Diogenes!” It is surely this fascination of the human condition, that I find a common ground with the handsome narcissistic megalomaniac, for if I were not a budding victim caught up in the hypnotic promises of capitalism, I would very much like to be a Buddhist.

 We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When  the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.
Buddha

At the core of the Buddhist faith there is a highly complicated image, apparently constructed by the rather epically late Buddha himself! On this wheel of Life we find ourselves, and the play of existence unfolded before our very eyes, and it is this wheel and the behaviour of those odd “animal like” humans that makes me wonder; if the people that find it so extremely hard to be human and prefer to act like animals, could in fact very well have been animals in their most recent of past lives? A non-spiritual type that I am sure will somehow stumble on this article, will no doubt consider the above few sentences as rather daft. However allow me to pose a question.. Why do the rest of us feel so far removed from these beasts, and yet so familiar to those that we even state, are on our level? The very fact that the default word for such comparisons is “level” quite simply for me, highlights this, and I rest my case. Happy New Year!

A Fateful Posting

It was a cold as always March morning. This was during a time in my life that the actions of others, mostly those I considered better gifted in judgement, wisdom or notebly more alpha, were taken by me as highly influential. So it came to much surprise, the actions played out by myself on this particular normal as ever day, thirteen years ago. Until the point of this crossroad my Army career had consisted of the basic training, and phase 2 training for my specialist role of attack helicopter ground ops, that I under took at my regiments training barracks, a stone throw from a lovely little village, aptly named, Middle Wallop. I had been told that the best posting for the best soldiers, looking for fun and adventure, was Germany. Many of the instructors up until this time had ranted and raved about the shenanigans at these highly sort after barracks in Gutersloh, and how the young soldiers were so incredibly well received by the local girls and the epically hot summers; that would last from March to November would (believe it or not) make you miss the winter. This place sounded like a dream to my post teenage wet behind the ears…ears? However when the day came that our postings would be revealed to us, hung up on our crew room wall, I found my name listed as being one of the lucky few, my excitement of having made the list quickly became overrun with an altogether different feeling, one that if not mistaken hailed from the realms of something being terribly wrong.

You have to listen to what resonates within your own gut. You find your direction there. Your voice comes out.

Kathy Mattea

My twin brother had a knack of getting himself into all sorts of trouble when we were teenagers; this was almost always with bigger boys and certainly always centred around one of their girlfriends. Nevertheless one particular evening I had woken in the night with a terrible feeling, he had been in trouble and I felt compelled to call him, only to discover that he was outside a nightclub and had been attacked not knowing where he was. This same feeling greeted me in the crew room on that fateful, cold as death March morning. It felt like a fire that was burning inside me, it came from the pit of my stomach and rose all the way up into my throat making my mouth dry and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It was telling me that this was wrong, it was deeply wrong. So as I stood there, accepting the handshakes of the other soldiers who were happy for my luck of posting, I turned around and marched my way to my Commanding Officers office to divulge a decision that is perhaps one of the biggest and strangest notions I have ever been brave enough to make. Upon entering his office with the usual highly unnecessary stamp of the boot and salute, I explained to him that I didn’t wish to go to Germany and that Dishforth in North Yorkshire would in fact be the ideal posting for me. He looked at me a wash of confusion over his weathered face, “Air Trooper Bradley, are you sure?” I replied that it was indeed my certain choice. He laughed at me, as if I were a fool and perhaps, he was right, nevertheless he granted me the odd request.

The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculatingly to meet and greet unknown fate.

O. Henry

Since that odd decision my life has ran its turbulent lot to greet me at the point where here, I sit and write. The posting at Dishforth showed me the real side of the British Army as I am almost certain that had I gone to Germany I may very well have still been serving now, this blog wouldn’t exist, I wouldn’t have the friends that I do and I would never have moved to London; at least that is how it feels. Germany was a cushy posting, I’d have loved it, yet I was hungry for something else, the truth perhaps? I honestly don’t know. However this raises a rather significant notion that any decision, no matter its scale, can change the entire course of your life, but it is these gut feelings that propel us to act. They almost always feel like an empty hole of negativity, which is an ironic warning considering that only good can come from acting on them. Perhaps they are this way so that we don’t ignore them? Either way, learning to listen to instincts and these deep feelings can be hard, especially when we have people around us, notably good people with nothing but our best interests at heart, telling us that this is wrong, or that is wrong or he/she is ultimately wrong. What they say doesn’t matter, but we allow it to, as our feelings for them and their judgment is sound; nevertheless we must all chose our own path, and if you know deep within your very core that a decision you must make is the right one, then who can possibly argue with you? It’s your life, so live it.

Semi-Automatic Nonsense

Guns don’t kill people, people kill people, or if you’re from the Bronx you might say that rappers do? Either way the hot debate in the wake of the elementary school killings is something of a fascinating and obvious presented outcome. Certainly from this side of the pond many view the gun laws in America to be brutal, barbaric and altogether ancient. Written over 100 years ago in a time when things where very different. For it was then that governments (The English Crown) rained terror on the colonies to which they controlled, and when freedom came knocking, people felt that the right to bear arms in order to protect themselves from governments was in fact a just cause. This certainly does make sense, as a rebel force of people with their own guns to protect their families seems just, however what happens when the guns are found to be in the wrong hands?

They have some pretty tough gun laws in Japan, as they do in  any other civilized country in the world, and they’re not killing each other off  with firearms. You have very violent films in Europe, yet it’s not causing the  mayhem we see in our streets routinely here.
Michael D. Barnes

Knifes, baseball bats and even a pair shoes can be used as weapons in order to act out an individual’s internal maniacal rage, however murder with any of the above is more often than not localised into one or two people, how often do you hear of someone going on a killing spree with a knife or bat? The answer is of course, hardly ever. So this raises a few questions that certainly need to be addressed; I believe that people have the right to protect themselves and their families as this event clearly shows there are a lot of crazies around, however automatic weapons, whereby simply pressing a trigger can clock you up several kill points, is almost certainly a weapon that should not be allowed to be found within the hands of the crazy people.

It’s frightening how easy it is to commit murder in America.  Just a drink too much. I can see myself doing it. In England, one feels all the  social restraints holding one back. But here, anything can happen.W. H.  Auden

No matter what you feel about this bygone law, we are living in a time where our intellects have improved drastically in the last 100 years, people are smarter, and thus deserve smarter laws. Unfortunatly there are still people that exist that cant meet in the middle, these people are idiots. Ban automatic and semi-automatic weapons America, and catch up with the rest of us.

Artistically Hacked

You cant help but have a feeling of overwhelmed disgust, for all the talented artists that come in and out of our lives, who are clearly worthy of the space on the wall at the Tate Modern, instead you find  a plain canvas with a slice running through the centre, and this is to be interrupted as an expression of the divide in society? The majority of the utter cack, that they display clearly indicates that by merely lifting your arm, could in fact be you performing a form of artistic expression, depending of course which non-glasses needed (yet wearing), ass-like individual, that closes their eyes when explaining how extremely in touch the artist was when he decided to pick up the knife and pierce it directly into the canvas, highlighting how poignant that the fabric being cut is in fact, canvas, as we all know very well that our first society was a collection of tents?! The raised arm however is a protesting rebellious movement that says “I was always told it was caves”. Nevertheless a regurgitated viewpoint they have decided to take, merely because their much more connected friend had said the same, whose opinion, on such skill, is only really comparable to the ridiculousness of this entire opening paragraph (retrospective). Art at this level is no longer about creativity, it’s about can, and making bucket loads of cash! If you can do it, and chose to do it before everyone else – then congratulations you’re an artist, and if people with zero imagination copy your framework; for example they move their lower leg instead of their arm, it’s a movement (literally). Art is a very easy subject to poke fun at, it is however one of the fast evolving, and as such appears to be heading to a certain point, where there is no other choice, but to become ironic.

Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.
Pablo  Picasso

Notably Art has always been about taking something or a mixture of materials and manipulating it into something else, that has a different meaning than that of what it had in its previous form, nevertheless artistic credibility through means of igniting chaos, purely for the purpose of exactly that, we now find that destruction and chaotic insanity is indeed, a form of expression. These new wave artists (or destructive sorcerers of chaos) currently dominate the media, fuelling our paranoid fears, they are perhaps in the last ten years considered by all world governments the most dangerous menace to our jewel of society, that has ever existed. Simply with a slight push of a button they could end everything, as we know it.

I  don’t hate technology, I don’t hate hackers, because that’s just what comes with  it, without those hackers we wouldn’t solve the problems we need to solve,  especially security. Fred Durst

Many of them, if not all, are bored genii, they never joined in with the rest of us and our sheep like interests, for the mundane lives of people is a dull existence, there is certainly far more fun in bringing a bank to its knees or crashing every till in all of the supermarkets around the world. Perhaps their actions of chaos are that caused by resentment that the genes didn’t configure in the same way the rest of ours did, that ultimately made us all complete bores – and toilet bowl water if ingested through hair folicals actually makes you smarter, well it certainly would make you angrier! Computer hackers are utilising there epic brains to quite simply, incite revenge; and to be completely honest, I don’t blame them. Yet this artistic menace will be the first port of call when things really do start to hit fan. When the people that ignored them, picked them last in the football team, or said no to them at the school dance, will call them up to save us all from a digital meltdown, completely giving the hackers the last laugh when they turn around to them and simple say “go fuck yourselves” and for that reason hackers, I salute you.

The Star Wars Legacy

It has taken me a while to write this post. Not because I am idle or too caught up in other musings, but quite simply because I have been trying to get my head around the concept that Disney now own the Star Wars Franchise. At first this news came with great regret that such a studio, with all its family value wholesomeness had managed to get its fluffy fascist claws dug deep into a set of films that, revolutionised the average males imagination and the film industry. I panicked, and have continued to enter a sense of discourse every-time since, well, whenever the thought has entered my head! Had I decided to write this post a fortnight ago this post would have read from an extremely negative perspective. But just the other day something happened. I was reminded of two rather exceptional realities that have managed to put all of my doubts, on their tight backs and spin right the way around so that now, I type with the utmost confidence.

The Grid. A digital frontier. I tried to picture clusters of information as they moved through the computer. What did they look like? Ships? motorcycles? Were the circuits like freeways? I kept dreaming of a world I thought I’d never see. And then, one day, I got in. Kevin Flynn

Tron Legacy was a box office smash. Not only did it look exceptional, have an excellent script, an awesome soundtrack, and top class actors (two which from a retina pleasing perspective, were extremely easy to look at), it was also an exceptional sequel to a movie that didn’t really, need a sequel. This is almost certainly where Star Wars sits. The franchise from my own perspective doesn’t really need a sequel, as Return of the Jedi ended things rather completely, well certainly for the Skywalker family, which begs to offer perhaps a different family will take the mantle, or even an individual? Perhaps Kyle Katarn the main protagonist from the dark forces computer game series? Either way, the films will need a director that will bring balance to (the force?) the audience. As on one hand you have the kids that will no doubt fuel the merchandising side of making a bucket load of cash, and then on the other side, you have the wealth of loyal fans, all of which are at the age where narrative is everything, and kooky characters with speech impediments, mean nothing to them. Star wars deserves a director that knows the genre and hopefully Disney is not blind to a man that can surely pull off a space epic, and will no doubt, do it so fluidly.

“Star Wars” is probably the most influential film of my generation. It’s the personification of good and evil and the way it opened up the world to space adventure, the way westerns had to our parents’ generations, left an indelible imprint. So, in a way, everything that any of us does is somehow directly or indirectly affected by the experience of seeing those first three films.   J.J. Abrams

The star Trek reboot was an epic success, it was set in a cool stylist futuristic world where all of the characters were younger visions of the original crew. This play on Abrams part was risky, as the fans of star trek, that population could easily fill a medium sized country are tenaciously crucial. The film in my own opinion, was very much needed and excellent. I loved it. If Disney give Star Wars to Abrams there is no doubt in my mind that the film will be something worthy of the three original last films in the series.. This is of course providing they fill the story with plenty of what is needed, which of course I shall now explain.

No, there is another. Jedi Master Yoda

First and foremost, we find out exactly how far a parsec is. Next we see Leila with a light-sabre possibly kicking some ass, I also want to see baby Chewbacca’s, we see more planets like the mining planet Kessel and Luke having conversations with the ghosts of Yoda, Obe-Won and his Daddy Anakin, that would be sick. So Abrams, if you’re somehow egoistical enough to Google your own name and read everything about yourself and happen to find this post, make it happen.

The Promise Of An Unknown Fate

I often find myself in a state of transfixation*, a clear crisp blue sky morning is the backdrop, and with envious eyes I watch the many planes that fly high above my head and I wonder to myself where these might be going? I am insanely jealous of the adventures each of the passengers has in-store; some might be off to visit businesses in order to bring in deals that they have been working on for a time, others could simply be going home to visit those long missed loved ones that they have not seen in years, where the excitement of such a reunion is an experience all in itself, whereby it’s to much to bare and the flight seems to last a lifetime, and others could be heading to the promise of high adventure, unaware of the epic romances that await! Whenever fortunate enough to find myself in their position, I always feel at my most relaxed. My all time favorite album, Behind The Sun by Chicane dominates my plane iTunes playlist, which coincidentally features a commercial jet on the front cover. I can’t describe to you why this album stands out the most from so many others that I love, well, apart from the fact that its peacefully pensive tunes sing to my hungry soul a melody so beautiful it offers up my mind thoughts of the unknown future and all the possibilities that lay in waiting.. okay maybe I can describe why. Nevertheless as sure as each day is a constant where choices will be made, as little and irrelevant as they may seem, life changing potential resides within each choice, the promise of an unknown fate.

Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart. Marcus Aurelius

Negotiating  around a busy mind is the same as navigating a busy metropolis high street, on the first Saturday of January; you almost always end up lost, caught up in a sort of mish-mash of bored males and highly focused determined lioness-like females, an almost perfect comparison of those eager thoughts with clear goals and those other ones that say “just stay at home and watch telly”. Battling with thoughts of laze have been a very prominent challenge of mine for longer than I can remember, as staying in and being a recluse comes easy to me (perhaps that is why I write so often?) I find my own company, the best company, at the best of times. However I am fully aware that sitting on my reluctant arse is no way of obtaining high adventure, and romance certainly isn’t exactly going to find me in my bedroom, writing, reading (and other things that if stated will make my keyboard coil at the graphic description!) Routine as discussed in my previous post, at surface inspection, doesn’t really fill ones heart with the expectation of unknown adventure, however a routine can be as interesting as you want it to be, to explain; it could be that every first Friday of the month, you and your friends visit a different cocktail bar, with the aim of trying at least two new cocktails, there, you catch up with each others weeks, and you get the chance to unwind in a different environment, tasting something different, and surrounded by different strangers. By being open to possibilities, can only invite them in.

We all have possibilities we don’t know about. We can do things we don’t even dream we can do. Dale Carnegie

The hindrance of self doubt is one of the biggest restricting elements of a persons choice when dealing with the many antagonists a life such as ours presents. They come in many forms, not just bullies or bosses, but also mountains and tasks, some that experienced people in various fields could laugh at ignorantly unaware, that such challenges faced them, when they too had little to no experience. People are able to do everything and anything, that they wish to do. In the respect of doing anything, what makes the majority of us different is the way in which we learn to do things, people will always say that it is you that holds yourself back from doing the things that you want to do. This is true but again only at the surface level. Impatience, self doubt and the fact that most are happy to just sit and do nothing, is all that really holds us back from doing what we all truly want, and it is overcoming these three core deep rooted, easy to access, and give into feelings, that is really the biggest challenge that prevents you from being caught in my glare, aboard that plane, seeking your own adventure. Fear of new frontiers hold a lot of us back, myself included, breaking away from that tradition of wanting an easy life is hard, but once done, you’ll soon become all of the things you dreamt you could be, and more.

*Transfixedation – this is a new word that I’ve just made up, it means when caught in awe of something for a prolonged period that leaves you stationary

The Beautifully Brief Moment

Come and lets think, together for a moment, lets ponder ourselves, simply because we can; the most successful species to have ever been given the opportunity to exist on this, the gem of the Sol System, the planet Earth. That we from a conscious perspective, conveniently are lucky enough to have our atomic arrangement so, that it makes us Human. Regrettably by most, it’s a coincidence that is never truly pondered, yet by all of the millions of life forms, your consciousness, just so happens to reside deep within the mysterious mind of a person, you call yourself. When you recall a memory of someone since gone or missed, and you see that last moment that you spent together in your mind, who do you think it is that is watching? Life is by far one of the most exciting experiences yet discovered within the universe. However within a life there is a moment, a brief section that we all miss and many long for, yet each have lived. It is so important that if we ever learn anything from the average life that we each lead, it is to pass on the importance of that long cherished yet beautifully brief moment many of us, including myself, miss more than anything I have ever been lucky enough to experience.

Creativity is not merely the innocent spontaneity of our youth and childhood; it must also be married to the passion of the adult human being, which is a passion to live beyond one’s death.
Rollo May

Its a world of endless fun and opportunity, no wonder many men including myself and dearest friends, find it so very hard to part from such a carefree abandonment of inhibition, certainly in a world where the pressures of being serious is the only way to be deemed as being considered responsible. Any opportunity to revisit such a place of utter joy and ease is almost always taken up by those who lack the fear of judgment, for it is that dark cloud of behavioral “finger wagging” that holds everyone back, from just simply dusting off their old toys and letting their starved imagination take flight back to our childhoods. Often I am found in conversations with people who feel that something is missing from their lives, that they are no longer who they used to be, or feel that a part of them abandoned them years ago, and that now they spend nights at a loss, weekends drift ideally by with no real moment of seized opportunity taken, as they feel that none had even presented itself. Nevertheless we all have one element that at surface inspection is always deemed an enemy; the candle to which we burn, that if truly appreciated will indeed give us all that we need of it, to do the things we have always dreamt of doing.

Until you value yourself, you won’t value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it.
M. Scott Peck

Say what you will of men, they are often found to be children at the best of times and I, simply for being one am actually extremely proud of this fact. Men fill their time doing things that they pretty much did aged ten, just the other day for example I built a 16/1 scale model of my motorbike, which much to my joy my brother Steven brought for me as birthday present. Before I even opened it, I loved it as it came in a box, because as all boys know.. “a present in a box always means something cool!” So cool in fact that you can either; take whatever is inside apart, put it together, race it around a room, fly it around a room, get your friends involved, blast it into the sky, hit it or kick it. All of which I might add are extremely fun things to do. Men don’t grow up, this is a fact, business is quite simply one giant train set, and believe me this is how most men view it. I know that some women do feel the exact same way but having being a man of course, I can only really talk from my own perspective. Accepting ones inner child has its problems as most people are afraid of how people will react to such childish behavior from an adult. However I don’t regard the ones that cast such opinions to be worthy of my upset, I see these types on a daily basis, most regard me a fool or a clown, yet it is I that pities them, for what is the point in living, if you cant feel alive?

Open Your Eyes, Said The Blind Watchmaker

People are always being subjected to the observations of others. A conversation no doubt that most of us are all too familiar, as we certainly bring it up in the realms of first date trying to find conversation subject matter territory, whereby we declare ourselves the people watchers, together casting our exquisite and utter unique interpretation of strangers fashionable expression of their personalities and musical allegiances. As soulless and empty as the many people who tend to discuss such trivial matters on a regular basis, they will often tell you that fashion is, for the dull. The people that don’t really have too much to say in other fields and are often laughed at by the stuck up self proclaimed intellectuals, that are foolish enough to pay the £6 per week subscription costs simply to read a regurgitated news feed, courtesy of that lovely chap that enjoys nothing more than to tap your phone-line just to find out what colour knickers you might have picked out for yourself today, if any at all! Confirmatory is very much the easy cop-out when we consider our day to day appearances, usually we relate the fashions of others to their musical taste, which is a very simple way of viewing and judging individuals, however there is a deeper and far more interesting root cause for the reasons that fashion is in-fact, at the forefront of all of our personalities.

Fashion is always of the time in which you live. It is not something standing alone. But the grand problem, the most important problem, is to rejuvenate women. To make women look young. Then their outlook changes. They feel more joyous. Coco Chanel

Interlocked with the seasons, clothing fashion changes to suit the climate and essentially the up market designers or fashion trend setters that encourage the rest of the market to follow their lead, this is really only in the case of high fashion, where people with that level of personal wealth can spend it on things that they wear. This certainly puts peoples personalities into all sorts of different categories. So integrate are they that this post would end up becoming a thesis if I attempted to list each and every way, however I am going to try and set it out in a bite size introductory chunk of a paragraph (as I’m certainly not going anywhere for a few minutes). Starting at the root or base of fashion/personality expression there is of course sex. Now I am not taking about that thing you do around Christmas time when the wine is flowing, I am of course talking about gender. When welcoming a new born baby into the world the colours pink, blue and yellow are the three options that are always associated with picking out a cute little outfit for the heir to the kingdom to prance about in, as they are passed from one adoring aunt to another. Blue is of course for the boy, pink for the girl and yellow if the parents enjoy surprises! This of course carries on into adult life, so male readers be sure to be cautious of the lady in the yellow dress! We often hear how colour is used to express our feelings and certainly when married up to fashion, visually we automatically gauge whom it is that we are looking at, but the fact that we are looking, is the visual interruption of what it is that they want you to gauge, and that is the point where this post begins to get intense, for if it were not for the observer, these strangers would never have even bothered to have gotten dressed at all.

The observer, when he seems to himself to be observing a stone, is really, if physics is to be believed, observing the effects of the stone upon himself. Bertrand Russell

One of the most important elements in Physics experimentation is the observer. The observer can decide all conditions to which the experiment takes place and thus has a huge influence on the experiments outcome. There is one particular experiment that certainly from a philosophical view puts science, philosophy and certainly in some peoples perspective cases, religion together in a realm of unquestionable significance. The Most beautiful experiment in Quantum physics informs us that a system exists in super-positioning, that is in all possible states, until we observe it, is only in one specific state. This simple experiment is one that elegantly demonstrates how observation affects quantum systems; Ladies and Gentlemen The double slit experiment. The double slit sets aside causality, determinism, and the notion that reality exists, as it blurs the line between the observer and the system being observed.

In the double slit experiment, a series of single photons or electrons, are fired at a solid plate that has two slits. On the other side of the solid plate, a photographic plate is set up to record what comes through those slits. If one neglects to observe which slit a particle passes through, it appears to interfere with itself, suggesting that it behaves as a wave by traveling through both slits at once. However, if one chooses to observe the slits, the interference pattern mysteriously disappears, and each photon travels through only one of the slits. The formation of the interference pattern requires the existence of two slits. Nevertheless how can a single particle pass through two slits simultaneously? At that point, we are forced to consider each particle as a wave that travels through both slits, or we have to think of the particle as splitting and going through each slit separately, and wondering how the particle “knows” a pair of slits is coming. The only solution is to abandon the idea of a particle, or any other quantum system, as having a location in space-time until it is observed. Nevertheless the very element that matter behaves when it is observed by us, from as small as the atomic level, is simply too significant for people not to feel a sense of utter wonderment and ultimate significance.

If quantum mechanics hasn’t profoundly shocked you, you haven’t understood it yet. Niels Bohr

Particles know that we are watching them, but how? This raises a very interesting puzzle as it significantly means that we, as observers, have a rather important part to play in reality and the Universe, and this experiment is simply the start of a new type of Spiritual Science that in time, will introduce us all to a new form of thinking. Mathematics, Science, Spirituality and Philosophy have for the last 500 years been separate from one another, yet here we find ourselves with a union, and if each decide to listen to one another, an exciting time of discovery awaits, all we have to do, is quite simply, open our eyes.

Monotonous As One

When traveling back down into the Earths atmosphere, after one of their pioneering adventures, as far as economically possible in these dark financial times, those fortunate enough to be born with the correct mixture of DNA and family connections, that enable them to be some of the greatest free thinkers on this spinning rock of mud and water, are greeted with an overwhelmingly taken for granted colour; a colour that we each see every single day. Almost all of us avoid it unintentionally, as we go about our daily mundane lives, far too caught up in our living for the weekends existence. Yet now, the very name of this colour is wielded like some-kind of smug filled gun, by none other than a post teen smelly far left extremist hippie, forcing you to be aware of your responsibility as the most successful species that has ever dominated the planet Earth, only to find that his very free loving, free spirited, jobless nature is in fact funded by a father that exercised a life of the complete opposite. But like any chain, one can not exist without the other and it is this circle of perfect harmony, an equilibrium, that we truly learn to appreciate this fantastic colours, true worth.

Green is the prime colour of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.
Pedro Calderon de la Barca

In the chain of all living spices, trees are a pinnacle, a perfect living sculpture. They defy gravity and are the only natural element that hold a perpetual movement towards the Sun; the celestial object that nourishes their foliage. They have inherited from Bactria the power to capture lights energy, which they store and use as food, turning it into wood and leaves, which then decompose into a mixture of water, mineral, vegetable and living mater, gradually this biometric soup mixes and eventually forms into soil, thus creating fertile land for more and more trees to be born out of the Earths crust, only to face the repeated fate of the perfect synergy that awaits. It is this motion that keeps reappearing when things seem to be right. We all talk of routines as monotonous, however once we find that perfect balance of love, friendships, work and play; life just seems to fall into place. Things start to come into that circle all on their own, and once that happens, you find that some, if not all possibilities, that you’ve been longing for begin to present themselves.

Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.
Lao Tzu

I have spent a majority of my life feeling disconnected from the rest of the world. I had never really felt with one with anything, and certainly not anyone that wasn’t a member of my family or my close group of friends. What I’ve found in the last 7 years of living in London is that for the most part people here don’t acknowledge you; people feel unconformable at the best of times in social situations without having to be all squashed together in that daily orgy of ridiculous double takes and over the shoulder reading of newspaper articles, that tell us Israel have thrown all of its toys out of its solid golden pram, again. This existence is certainly one of intimidation and you cant help but wish that Total Recall wasn’t some abused epic fantasy adventure, fated with being sold out from one of science fictions greatest estates, but one that was nurtured and given careful casting considerations for the lead roles, simply by writing a script, that was truly worthy of a seasoned actor, that can actually pretend to be somebody other than a massively in-denial closet homosexual. if the premiss in Total Recall, to have a fake memory implant, was in fact a real option in life, things would certainly become far more interesting, however ironically, there is a way for it to improve simply by getting yourself locked into that very mundane circle, I have tried to avoid it everyday of my life, thinking that one of not knowing and random acts of adventure was “where it was at” it isn’t.By forcing such things into your life or expecting them, can only cause impatience and a feeling of sadness that things are not happening for you.  for it is that very essence, of locking yourself in to a life that is routine, that we all begin to connect.

The Radical Calling

It starts somewhere in the stomach, an empty feeling. It has always had an association with my fingertips making them numb and tingly. I have never known a frustration like it, when looking upon the mountainous goal ahead of me, I can’t help but be overcome with a feeling that I could never do it, that the people you watch from the crowd as they masterfully deliver their spell binding performance, geneses surely? It is this frustration that continues to push me up that mountain, with almost every single step that I take I stumble, and for a while I’ve felt like i am not getting any closer to the top, that with every attempt is the over welling feeling of failure, that little voice inside your head says to you, that maybe, you’re just not that good; and then, just when you thought that all of that dedicated time was for nothing, you see it, a crack in the wall, you’re presented with the beauty of an unknown horizon, it grabs at you and suddenly that slight glimpse of the end goal is in sight and you’re overcome with a feeling that’s so intense, it could actually be happiness. For you are now able to create, music.

I consider music to be storytelling, melody and rhythm. A  lot of hip-hop has broken music down. There are no instruments and no  songwriting. So you’re left with just storytelling and rhythm. And the  storytelling can be so braggadocious, you’re just left with rhythm.
Jack  White

I have spent the majority of my time, when subjected to live music, feeling jealous, throughout my entire twenties I always considered myself to be a non-musical type, of course I love listening to music and have a vast collective mix of tastes from every genre, classical, dance tracks, heavy metal and indie, all of which have their rubbish acts and outstanding, Back in April this year my friends band The Damerels, had successfully succeed their first London gig, hailing from Plymouth I would go to support them whenever they played, like any true friend/fan, however this gig was different. I’d not seen them perform in about 5 years so didn’t really know what to expect. Much to my joy they had improved massively, so much in fact that I stuck off to the toilet, whipped out my Amazon app and purchased my very first Bass Guitar.

The bass, no matter what kind of music you’re playing, it  just enhances the sound and makes everything sound more beautiful and full. When  the bass stops, the bottom kind of drops out of everything.
Charlie  Haden

Why the bass? If I had a penny for every time some skinny jeaned, hoppy ear ringed Camden type quizzed me about my weapon of choice, I wouldn’t be typing this blog out on my iPhone notes app, sat in Queens Park Costa! Instead I’d still most likely be writing this blog, only my Bass would now be a Gibson Thunderbird (Mum if you’re reading this, yes this is what I would like for Christmas) and I’d be sporting quite the tan sat just off the coast of Ibiza in my princess super yacht, occasionally laughing to myself at how disgustingly rich I am! Unfortunately this isn’t the case. The Bass for me has always been my desired choice; the deep rumbling sound and cool funky bass lines of Flea from the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, being an extremely cool guy myself, I couldn’t resist its radical calling! But it is not the childlike way of wanting a toy, or manlike desire to conquer the mountain that inspired me, for the feeling of succeeding through practice is a sensation that is certainly unmatched, not only does it inspire you to drive forward, but the enormity alone, of internal wellbeing, makes all the hours of practice, simply worth it.

To Dance Magnificent Dreams

Every human culture that has managed to flourish contain mythological stories of heroic legends and fantastic feats. Between the civilizations the stories vary, each tribe with their own unique explanation of creation, the creator(s), and the end times. Yet in spite of how distant on the gulf of time they maybe placed, each and every group of people have all shared a common antagonist. Evil spirits, demonic specters that have plagued mankind, causing mischief and misfortune amongst every single civilization, that has ever existed.  As a suffer of sleep paralysis in many cultures my experiences would have been put down to that of a demonic nature, that I was in fact being tormented by an evil soul hell bent on causing anguish in my life. These experiences that mostly come to me when I have battled with my tiredness and fought to stay awake, as terrify as they are, short lived, nonetheless. Regrettably however there is one demon that shall haunt me forever, a nemesis that I cant reason with, nor can it be bought or ignored; for doing the latter, can only bring me more and more visitations, each harder to deal with, than the last. This demon as hateful and evil as it is, wears robes of pure satin and plays a harp so beautifully, it could be the greatest music I’ve ever heard, providing of course, I’m listening.

Adversity has ever been considered the state in which a man most easily becomes acquainted, with himself.
Samuel Johnson

There is this old parable about a young man and his grandfather. The grandson who was so discouraged by the experiences of school life that he told his grandfather, his only solace, that he was going to leave school and join the army. His grandfather was naturally upset but didn’t quiz the boy, instead he fetched three pots from his kitchen and filled them with water, placing each above the open fire. Soon the pots came to a boil. In the first pot he placed carrots, in the second he placed eggs and the last, ground coffee beans. He let them sit and boil. In about twenty minutes he grabbed a pair of thongs and picked each pot off the fire. He fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then he ladled the coffee out into a cup. Turning to his grandson, he asked, “Tell me, what do you see?” “Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” the boy replied. Then he asked him to feel the carrots, which he did and noted that they were soft and mushy. His grandfather then asked him to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, the boy observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he asked his grandson to sip the coffee. He smiled as he tasted it, strong with its rich aroma. The boy asked, “I don’t understand. What does this mean, if anything?” His grandfather laughed and explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity – boiling water – but each had reacted differently. “So, which are you?” the grandfather asked. When adversity knocks on your door, how do we respond? Are you a carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, becomes soft and loses strength? Are you the egg that appears not to change but whose heart is hardened? Or are you the coffee bean, that changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the coffee bean, when things are at their worst, your very attitude will change your environment for the better, making it sweet and palatable.

My great concern is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure.
Abraham Lincoln

People often talk of content, being the best place to be within ourselves. Loving friends and family, a big prancing dog that runs round and round the furniture when you come home. Certainly I do long for such simple things, however I am convinced that the courage and willing to work and push myself comes from the current upsets of my life. If I were content with what I had, I would be afraid that as a person I might fail to grow and become more than what I am. I have often found that in relationships the ones that are strongest, are the ones that encounter the most upset, for as horns clash, lips do often touch. I am a firm believer that adversity, as frustrating as it is to deal with can only make you more; what that “more of” is exactly, can only really be determined by you, as each of us, as shallow as we are sometimes, exquisite individuals nonetheless; marching to the beat of life that only our destinies can hear and living to dance magnificent dreams.

Harrowing Insparation

Despite its ridiculous business decision to sell its main competitors key device that shall very much cause its eventual downfall, Waterstones book shop has always proven to be a wonderfully stolen little break, from my dull day to day meandering. You will often find me there, thanks to miss-judging of timetables or my overly keen assurance that to travel anywhere in London needs at least two hours between any two points. This does of course work in my favour as now all of my friends humble me with compliments on my exceptional time keeping. In these stolen moments, the many shelves of the book shop are browsed, inspiration for various subject matter for my writing’s are normally born here, or even, I hope, that maybe, I shall find a back of book prose to be lost in for a few moments, only then to consult my Amazon iphone App and have it ordered for a fraction of the price, thus performing high street sacrilege! However my personal library (see photo) is unlikely to be built on three for two offers at £8.99 per book! When here; my nostrils absorb that sweet book pulp aroma, I am always drawn to a particular section of the shop where other lost and hopeless souls dwell. I never buy a book from this section as I am convinced that the words I’ll find within the pages are in fact written from people that prey on the hopeful, in order to make themselves a quick and thoughtful buck, the victims are however the spirited individuals that seek nothing more than guidance and answers, when life seems to take a turn for the worse.

I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, “Where’s the self-help section?” She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.
George Carlin

The very essence of helping one’s self is destroyed in the irony that the proclaimed services that these books in fact claim to offer you. Self help is exactly that, and it doesn’t take some washed up, no longer on television type to tell you that you need to find happiness in friends, family or your pet bunny rabbit Rupert. People are completely in charge of their own happiness and rather reluctantly, in some cases are the product of their own choices. Phrases like, “how did I ever allow this to happen” or “how could I not have seen this coming?” present the case that ignorance is in fact not bliss, because like it or not, life, the Universe and Karma are all predators, and they’re relentless. There is only one thing that is certain in life, it’s a glum consideration and we all avoid thinking about it, but what if today was the last day for you on earth, what would you do?

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
Mark Twain

When you really live your life like every day is your last, or as many of you now, as you read will play out such a scenario in your mind, all of the most important elements of your life will come to the forefront and become clear to you. Family, you will want to be with them and perhaps express how you feel about each member individually and how thankful you are that the hand of fate decided that that inspiring lady, that offers you unconditional love is in fact blessed to be your mother. Love of a partner, fate doesn’t hold a photograph of this person, more a blue print of who they are, you know this design all too well as it is who you’ve dreamt about most of your life. They may already play a key part in your hearts ensemble, and for that I am envious, nevertheless know that these people like family are not to be taken for granted, and certainly if tomorrow was your very last day here, what would you tell them? It is in fairness an extremely harrowing thought, that death is a part of life, but even still, something that is so tremendously viewed as being negative can in fact, if you allow it, inspire, and might even liberate you from yourself.

For Every Passing Moment

Bursts of compelling creativity often find me at some of the most inconvenient of places; folding pieces of toilet paper in some kind of private display of lavatorial origami, completely aware that nobody will ever have the pleasure of my designs. I flush away the would be masterpieces that hail from the realms of toilet seat boredom, without a care! Thanks to this odd occupation of stimulus, I am rarely found bored and this certainly puts me into the divide of the creative types; whose minds race with silly ideas of games and tricks to play on those they hold most dear. However there are also those that sit on the other side of lives many fences, they don’t enjoy the games, are too afraid to be silly in fear of being judged or not taken seriously. It has always been the case that these people fascinate me the most, if not for understanding what route has brought them to such destructive choices, but for learning exactly how best to quench their hurtful appetites.

Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.
Martin Luther King, Jr.

One of the most upsetting days I have ever had to endure was when I came home from work one night about 3 years ago. My girlfriend at the time was a very troubled soul, she spent the majority of her life then, wrapped up in her own self pity and awesome anger. This destructive personality was such a brutal force that I would try to avoid her at all costs, and ultimately lead to our separation; I would work late most nights or visit friends purely to avoid the vacuous environment that her negative ways created in our home. This night in particular, I came home to find that she had broken into my wooden box, the place that I kept all of my most treasured memories. It contained letters my brother and I wrote to each other when we were, for the first time apart from one another, and being twins this certainly was not an easy time, dealing with our Armed Forces training, my brothers company would have been more needed than any. His words of encouragement helped me to overcome the brutal attacks that my character would suffer physically and mentally, on a daily basis.

The box also contained all of my teenage love letters, little words spoken by girls whose lives I once played a key role, brave words of feelings expressed on to paper for the first time shared with someone, together entering into an unknown world of emotions and insecurity. The content of this box defined who I am, I never needed to look in it, but the thought of knowing that it was there, that maybe one day when the people whose words where dearest where no longer with me, I could be taken back to a time when we were together. And in a jealous vile rage my ex destroyed its entire content, little to her ignorant knowledge, she had thrown away letters that she had even sent me herself, our first date cinema tickets and the first birthday card she gave me. Before that evening, I never knew the extent of the power that anger can take hold of a person. I regret the argument that ensured more than anything I have ever done. When I think about how I handled that situation, I am always overcome by  a great amount of shame and even now, as I type, I wish I’d never done what I did. However it is this bench-marked experience that reminds me of how one should more forward in life, for as pushed as I was, I felt that ever since dealing with such an incident, my life and my character have changed, and will never be the same again.

I have spent my life trying to help those that need it most; I have been taken for granted, cheated, and made to look like a fool. Yet still I offer my services to all who needs them, why? Because there really isn’t any other right way to live.

Superman

When one gets hurt by another the feelings that come flooding in can, for many, become addictive. I am very much convinced that anger and sadness are both highly addictive and massively destructive. This is why they are pursued by people caught up in these awful emotions. Hunting for the hurt or feeding the jealously are phrases that I often hear spoken among friends, and it is this element of human nature that is perhaps one of the hardest obstacles to overcome, especially when dealing with those that are closest to us. People will often hide within themselves the true nature of their being, good characters are at the root of everyone and no matter what you may have done in the past, mistakes are exactly that, mistakes. It is how you handle those memories when they recoil that will determine if you are growing the right way. Half of us will allow those hard memories when we felt least like ourselves to eat away at us, to hold us back, to refuse to allow us close to the ones best for us, for fear of them being entangled in the estranged and removed being that is you. Then there are the rest of us; they look upon those memories angry but thankful of how they have been since. They enjoy nothing more than to do the opposite, they don’t share these feelings or compulsions with everyone, as the deeds are just for them and their own personal judgment. It is of course harder to be the later, but then life doesn’t pause, you cant turn back time and the sun will always rise, just as each day is new, so are you. As for every passing moment it is another chance, to turn it all around.

You Should Ask Your Parents

We often find ourselves poised; the day to day life of a living and breathing human being, of the western world, can find itself challenged by the confusing and in some cases extremely odd behavior, of all the other humans. Of course the simplest way of justifying nonconformist behavior from the other individuals, is to come to the conclusion that they’re, quite simply, cut from another cloth, and that’s all there is to it. A label such as weird, is heavily accepted as the trademark for the band of secular individuals, themselves with secret handshakes, identical music taste and fashionable thick woolen knitwear, that they tend to sport mid July. But it is not from musical taste or mental disposition that has inspired me to write this post, but purely a confusion, that many claim as the flagship, the base ambassador that resides at the very core of their personality.

Sexuality poorly repressed unsettles some families; well repressed, it unsettles the whole world.
Karl Kraus

I have always considered myself a feminine male. I enjoy the finer things that this life has to offer; the promise of chocolate excites me greatly, I cant pass a sweet shop without going boss eyed! I am often tantalized with deep feelings of brood, especially when a cute kid on my usual Sunday outing attempts to hurry his grand parents off a train, by saying “come on guys!”  I enjoy the latest fashion, watch chick flicks and sometimes, mostly on a Sunday afternoon, I bake. In spite of all of these clear feminist like ways I must also insist, purely for my male prides sake, that I am as hot blooded as any chap you might find on a building site, as you’ll be able to tell from my previous posts I am also, very much, a heterosexual. Defining ones sexuality used to be simple, the lines were clear and almost certainly at the start of the twentieth century, people would have never of used it to define who they are, was this because of fear? I for one feel that as a whole, the people have become more aware of what it is to be a flesh filled, heart beating, fortress of emotion. Just as there have been breakthroughs in science, the human mind and technology, it has almost gone unnoticed that people are becoming aware of what they are, how they feel, and most importantly, what it is that they need to do.

It’s a good place when all you have is hope and not expectations.
Danny Boyle

When my parents married, they were both at the tender age of 19. Had my eldest brother at 21 and brought their own home shortly after. For my generation to envision such a right of passage seems almost laughable, however the expectations of our parents generation, and the one before that, the family unit was by far the most important part of ones life, that was built first. I can certainly see the appeal: Coming home from a stressful day at work to be greeted by a wife that loves you dearly and a child that has done nothing but be excited about showing you that painting they did, all day waiting to hear your voice at the door, immensely excited for your reaction! That walk up to the front door of your home must be one that never gets dull. Nevertheless working to make yourself happy without those people to greet you, and have them unwittingly take you away from the stresses of supporting a family could quite easily leave your life feeling empty, with an unhappiness that appears  unbreakable. As nothing was taken from you to locate the hole that needs to be filled, yet we do find ways to fill it. They define us and support us, make us feel happy when the chips are down, and sometimes lend us money, conveniently and selflessly forgetting, that they ever did.

Let parents bequeath to their children not riches, but the spirit of reverence.
Plato

One of life’s greatest achievements, overlooked by too many of us, holds the key to an award that is the one thing that all of us, no matter what our agendas in life, want, crave, and in some cases, need more than anything else. Being a good parent and being a good son or daughter, being there for each other, will bring you happiness. Knowing that each is there for the other; that support, being able to give it, will give them happiness, and happiness will then give itself to you. Friendship, love of a partner, both of which feelings of incredible emotions and attachments, they require attentiveness and like you, can grow and change over the years, and in some cases they can disappear, but the love of a parent for their child, is something that is born instantly, no hard work required, its’ there, and will stay there until the end of time. If you don’t believe me, you should ask your parents.

Journey Of The Liberated

There have been moments in my life that I wish I could remember. My early childhood memories are almost always delivered in the first person, which no doubt reveal that these segments are either from my fathers photography, or his keen interest in family video documenting. Despite these images being kept alive by photographs, they sporadically come to me mostly when experiencing the train ride home, as my eyes roll over each of Devon’s beautiful hill tops, I journey back to the people that I miss the most, or when I’m sat on a park bench enjoying a sandwich, and my one hours worth of free stolen thought. Pensive moments such as these, will always find me when I am alone, much like the inquisitive feather in Forest Gump, that signifies the beginning and end of his story. Like tears in rain the images are lost in my mind, however thanks to the sixth sense, that each of us have, those precious memories are there, and are as much a part of me, as the day I was fortunate enough to have ever experienced them at all.

We must declare ourselves, become known; allow the world to discover this subterranean life of ours which connects kings and farm boys, artists and clerks. Let them see that the important thing is not the object of love, but the emotion itself.
Gore Vidal

Like a herd of wild horses it races through all of us faster and stronger than any known substance to man. You cant touch it or have it measured, yet it governs everyone ever lucky enough to be blessed with a heart beat. Emotion is the sixth sense, when looking back on your life you remember how you felt when this or that happened; when they were born, or when they left you behind. Some of us are even lucky enough to keep the turbulent storm in check, knowing when not to cry, nevertheless it can be so power that even those with wills of hardened stone can, and will, be overcome by its awesome unforgiving strength.

The human race is divided. Not by the obvious choice of man and woman, but something far deeper that without even knowing can make you perform snap judgements, on complete strangers. The divide can cause misunderstanding and regret, it can bridge gaps between people that are otherwise so well matched, they should have been born with each other.

The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of because words diminish your feelings – words shrink things that seem timeless when they are in your head to no more than living size when they are brought out.
Stephen King

I feel that this is the right thing for us to do.

I think that this is the right thing for us to do.

Simply by reading those two sentences you will instantly be able to tell which side of the divide you reside. There are those that think all the time, they use knowledge and logic to decide almost all of their actions in life; analytical robotic types that more often than not find themselves being told, that they wish they were more in touch, with their feelings. Then there are the rest of us. Regrettably Most of us wish with all of our hearts that we could fall into the other side. It is however a wonderful thing to go with your gut and to do what you feel you should, or is right, but sometimes you are faced with decisions that require you to be those other people, knowing farewell that your feelings will find it hard to forgive you of the betrayal that you have made to them. Being in control of feelings is a sensible practice, but there is nothing more liberating than allowing yourself to give in to them, to indulge yourself to an internal journey that ultimately leads to knowing exactly who you are. Because lets face it, if you don’t listen to them and you choose to send them away from you, then you will be denied the most wonderful experience that being human has to offer, Gods perfect trump card that he showed you from a pack of woe, that makes the rest of those forsaken cards, worth it.

Riots Of Compassion

I love being by myself. Having being fortunate to have been born a twin, I think that this has given me a unique ability to appreciate my own company. In fact it’s something that I often find myself craving. I like nothing better than to grab the current book I am reading, leave the mobile on charge and head down to my local coffee shop. A large Cafe Latte and I’m sunken deep into a comfortable sofa, people go about their business getting their morning fixes of cappuccino and espresso as I just sit there, taking my much-needed break from the world. It is here as I read that my mind begins to wonder, speculate and gets inspired. I find that factual books often ignite my creative think tank, The article Old Enough To Die written for Vanity Fair June 1999 by the late and exceptional writer Christopher Hitchens, is very much an inspirational piece, just as it’s argument is ultimately and completely correct, it has ignited my creative fuse and thus the walk back from the coffee shop was certainly a brisk and excitable one! So Christopher, thank you for the inspiration and wherever you maybe now, this one, is for you, regardless of if you agree with my points, or not.

It’s a sad moment, when parents first become frightened of their children.
Ama Ata Aidoo

We are blessed in the West. We have everything that any human being could ever wish to have, in fact we have more, and if you think that’s not so, then I’m afraid you’re an idiot. However, we have failed. Certainly not in terms of dreams being realised or the amazing ability to recognise genius and to embrace new ideas, that area of our society is completely on the incline and I genuinely believe, dispute the state of the economy, that right now, is perhaps the most exciting time to be alive (certainly if Back to The Future 2 has any oracle like clout about it).

Nevertheless, through our care and commitment to abolish poverty we have created a new class of men and women, born out of a cocktail of laziness, woe is me, selfish and uneducated attitudes, a new bread of freeloader has emerged. The summer riots of last year have certainly headlined the fact that, we as the intellectuals, have failed a group of people who needed our help. Much like the annoyed stressed out single parent, we gave into their whims with free cash and goodies, thus creating a monster of spoilt proportions (the under class literally ran a riot)! This brushing under the carpet mentality is the plague rather than the problem of the working and middle classes. Never has there been a time where the ears of Leftists and Rightists need to listen to one another, and thus resolve this terrible issue; the thick dust needs to be blown off that wooden spoon of righteousness, and made ready to issue some much needed and longed for tough love.

The punishment which the wise suffer who refuse to take part in the government, is to live under the government of worse men.
Plato

Much to my Mothers annoyance I was a rather “spirited child” that spent more time outside of my teachers class room, than in it. My Mother used to chase me round the house with the wooden spoon, pretty much every night just to try to get me into bed. And when I was naughty, really, really naughty, she would certainly make sure that I knew about it. Yet regardless of how painful the punishment I would still push the boundaries of my Mothers tolerance. Was I conducting some-kind of genesis child, social experiment, pushing my poor Mother to the brink of sanity because I refused to get down from the roof of our neighbours house, only to take record of my Mothers blood pressure when confronted with a situation that was completely out of her control? The more she would demand of me, the more I would rebel, even today when I am expected to do something, it instantly gets my back up! I want to do whatever I want, so what is it that’s stopping me from being a member of this under class? It certainly isn’t fear, nor is it the drive to succeed as ultimately all I want from life is fun, which when you look at it, both sides of the spectrum can in fact offer. So what is it? Well, I know the answer, and it’s one that the education system and parents certainly need to address.

If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.
Dalai Lama

The fear of hurting someone or letting somebody down comes from a deep-rooted instinct to nurture our children, nevertheless unfortunately there are those people who when growing up, never had the luxury of compassion in their lives, however on the flip side to this, there are also those that had too much, to the point where compassion was expected to be in a fresh abundance when leaving the nest and entering adult life, both situations ironically produce an almost identical individual, that acts on their anger in a destructive capacity, either to themselves or to others. The education system is failing as it doesn’t recognise the importance of these two areas, and I am a firm believer (if perhaps a slightly right winged approach) that we need to educate expecting parents in these fundamentals.

The differences between right and wrong certainly helped me to overcome my troublesome behavior as a child, but ultimately it was the realisation that I was hurting my Mother that changed me. As soon as she stopped being angry and became sad, at my constant misbehaving, that upset in the eyes of my Mother was a thing that I never wished to see again, and the fact that it was me doing it, changed me completely, after all I love her. I know I make it sound so simple, of course nothing is simple and every human being is different, which is one of the many reasons why we need to look at people on a case by case basis. But like everything in life, it’s easier said than done. It is this compassion that has stopped me from being a menace to society as I am fully aware that any actions no matter how small, can ultimately affect someone’s well-being. But how do you teach somebody to care about a stranger? Ironically there is a group of people who caused more deaths than any other in such a short amount of time in human history, that when subjectively studied their model of a utopia is unlike any other, and was a complete success, until they got greedy.

He alone, who owns the youth, gains the future.
Adolf Hitler

To quote Hitler is of course in any given format, risky business and the last thing that I want is to get anyone’s backs up, nevertheless, heed my point! Hitler was of course an animal. A deluded crazy person that wanted to own the world with an iron fist and exterminate the Jews. However, there are elements of Nationalism like Patriotism, that governments should certainly look at. After all if it wasn’t for the Nazi’s we wouldn’t have put a man on the moon when we did. Nazi Germany was (providing you weren’t either a foreigner, gipsy, black, gay or Jewish person) a great place to live in the late 30’s. Hitlers government brought a country that was crippled, back from the brink of ultimate destruction. Of course many of his methods in realising his plan, were completely unjust. yet the Nazi youth programs ability to build comradeship among the German children, was exceptional.

This is clearly highlighted at the final Battle in Berlin 1945 where teenage children were fighting for the good of their nation and protecting their fellow-men, which is certainly the opposite of what happened in England last summer. Now of course I am not saying that we should copy their methods, I am merely making a point that the spirit of the people of our western nations, are lost. Instead of being taught to be strong and support each other, we are given images on a daily basis that make us all afraid of a cruel and evil outside world, depending on your own boundaries of what constitutes your world will determine where the fear begins, and sadly for many it’s anywhere outside their living room. The Nazi’s did it with Propaganda which was of course copied by the west and given the name Public Relations. Perhaps there is no way of gaining National pride unless there is an enemy for all of us to project our hate and compare ourselves to?

In all honestly I don’t know enough about politics to raise such awareness, but I do know one thing. National pride will change everything, and for someone to stand on the left to say such a thing, even if it is myself saying it, is a big statement to make.

The Ever Alluring Enigma

I am fascinated by a many natural phenomenon, all that my five senses allow, on this here jewel of the solar system. The Humpback Whales of Hawaii’s beautiful song or the instinctive nature of animals to nurture their offspring, such beautiful elements caught up in the randomness of this experience called existence. But it is the allure of one particular specimen of Gods mastery of biological architecture that fascinates me the most. Just when you thought you’d figured one of them out, another enigma presents itself, normally in the guise of a mood that you have to unravel, where the question “what’s wrong?” will simply never be enough, they need you to guess the specifics “don’t you care enough to know exactly?!”. This fact along with many more have held them to be considered, by many, as the biggest and most frustrating mysteries in the Universe.

I see when men love women. They give them but a little of their lives. But women when they love give everything.
Oscar Wilde

Ask any heterosexual man on the planet and they will happily inform you that there is nothing more beautiful than a woman. I have always held the opinion that men are not as affected by the lures of beautiful objects such as flowers or butterflies as they are far to busy being locked in the hypnosis of a women’s elegant curves. Being able to hold the attention of one of these beasts is an art form that you’ll find discussed and analysed at great length, normally on a Friday night among the men that could, maybe, perhaps, have a chance, at capturing that allusive sweet gaze. For it is that very effort that is appreciated most by these fine creatures. However once the success of the attention is reached, it opens the doors to an even larger challenge, one that can produce a game so intricate, that you had better step up to the mark, or be prepared to lose.

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.
T. S. Eliot

Ask a man, any man, tall ones, short ones, the ones with big bushy beards to give you a definition of emotional intelligence and many would struggle to give you a definitive answer. Ask a woman, and I am sure that you’ll be barraged with an influx of colourful examples, all of which are actually correct. The beauty of an emotional intellect is that it varies from person to person. Nevertheless, their high levels of emotional intelligence are best displayed when concentrated into their exquisite intuition. They are absolute experts at reading a persons emotions, so much so that they get upset if you’re unable to read theirs, as it comes so naturally to them, they assume that us men are blessed with the exact same gift, we’re not. A woman is unfortunately always right, and their ability to sniff out a lie is unparalleled, so consider your actions next time you decide to discuss that night out you had with your fellow pack of wolves, or the “we just had drinks together” with the girl from work yarn, because like a predator themselves, they shall hunt the truth out of you, faster and easier than you falling for their charms on your first night together. But the pain of being sniffed out is just the beginning, for hell know no fury like a woman scoured.

In vengeance and love, a woman is far more barbaric than any man could ever wish to be Friedrich Nietzsche

Vengeance being a dish best served cold is a tactic all too familiar to the fairer species. Being men, vengeance is a simple thing, that normally results in some broken noses and first class tickets being issued to Headbutt City. Women are all too well rehearsed in the weaknesses of men, they know that a mans pride is the most delicate of persona strengths he owns. take that away, and you’re left with a withering wreak, a shell of the man that once was. It will almost always come in a slow calculated attack, where the comparisons of dogs to men and women to cats certainly is highlighted. They will break you down and crush you, destroying emotions that you never knew you had. So how best to handle these alluring enigmas? The answer is obvious, isn’t it?

Honesty is the best policy.
Benjamin Franklin

Fear The Xenophobic Xenomorph

I have toiled with sharing a theory of mine for the last 5 years, for two very good reasons; firstly because I am afraid of causing a mass implosion chain event, of all the soft fragile minds of the non-imaginative, that if you look at today’s pop music, you’ll find that we currently have in a rather alarmingly fresh abundance. The second reason that makes this theory particularly difficult is that I know that certain people, that will half understand what I am musing, will in fact become offended and horrified that in today’s society I, a white, middle class, extremely charming and handsome 30 somethings male, could ever suggest such a thing. Truth is, I think that we all know it, it’s just some are too afraid to say it.

As the global expansion of Indian and Chinese restaurants suggests, xenophobia is directed against foreign people, not foreign cultural imports.
Eric Hobsbawm

The words xenomorph and xenophobia apart from being really cool sounding words, are extremely alike. Both start with an X and both would certainly give you a much needed boost of points on the scrabble board, totally baffling your nan with a thoroughly enjoyable explanation of exactly what a xenmorph is. This is where the compassion unfortunately ends, however it opens up a bizarre coincidence to this particular post, which you shall discover shortly. A xenomoph aside being the name of a Dutch heavy metal band, is the name given to the Alien featured in the popular Si-fi horror flicks named after the same tense. They are a fictional endoparasitoid extraterrestrial species, similar to wasps, where there is one Queen and thousands of workers that go about doing her terrifying bidding. As you will notice from the picture they are a rather scary looking lot, thus often found themselves as the main antagonist of my pre-adolescent nightmares (this was before the realisation of my vast toughness). The main difference between these two is that one is of course fictional, yet the other is very much a fact, and one that didn’t come about from imagination, yet is the perfect product of the embodiment of the other.

Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.
Henry Van Dyke

In the second world war, times, (as we are constantly reminded by the very few oap’s that we have left from that horrifying period in our history) were tough. The people had to deal with a whole array of problems that if tackled today by the populous would no doubt cause all manners of social unrest. The government at the time, had the toughest job of raising the spirits of the people. Fear, like many of the emotions that flow around in our bodies is perhaps the most powerful. The public consciousness was bombarded with images and eventualities for them, to fear, though clever propaganda campaigns with the purpose to motivate the people and to alert them to any funny goings on by enemy spies attempting to preform espionage, the government caused a sense of comradeship and patriotism never seen before or since. This ultimately played a huge hand in winning the war, however the government was then left with the unfortunate cost of its propaganda, leaving a population an embedded feeling of fear that will echo for the future generations to come.

Racism is still with us. But it is up to us to prepare our children for what they have to meet, and, hopefully, we shall overcome.
Rosa Parks

Now I don’t know about you, but I had a pretty racist grandmother. Everyone always talks about there being no excuse for racism and that it’s evil and wrong. My grandmother was a good person, paid her taxes and dearly loved her grandchildren, however like I highlighted in the above paragraph; our grandparents didn’t have a choice, they had to be racist, in fact it was encouraged to be weary of anyone that was out of place in the world that they were used to securing. Fact is, they were forced to change their opinions practically overnight. When in the 1950’s to help with the rebuilding of our economy we opened the doors to the commonwealth as we needed people to rebuild from the ashes. There are some parents that still teach their children to be xenophobes, just as their parents did them and that that element of fear is just as it comes from such a pure source in a child’s eyes. I strongly believe that it is up to us to reeducate these people and our children, so that they understand to not hate the player, but to hate the game.

Alive Yet Unaware

Take a moment to consider that its there, under your feet, being all alive and wonderful. A vast percentage of us are unaware of its majesty and when the odds are weighted up, an exceptionally lucky individual you are, to have ever even been given the chance to be with it. Mud, rock and metal, available in almost every colour that exists, and at any temperature you can imagine. It is the mother of reason and the father of life, it protects us with a mighty ironic strength that could instantly destroy us, as it dances together with its celestial partner, locked in a waltz that will last forever. A dance so subtle we can’t even feel it, yet so important, we’d all die without it.

And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.
Khalil Gibran

I often find myself pondering thoughts that I know I’ll never be able to explain or have anyone sane, answer. It seems incredible to me, that we are all walking around in these bloody bio-suits of flesh and bone. Alive, thanks to a pump that circulates the most complex and important liquid ever discovered, around our bodies, keeping us aware, (whatever that means?) and feeding us the oxygen that we desperately need to stay here. But why do we have to be alive, why cant we just all be rocks; simple, timeless and stationary? I know that there are people that believe to have the answers; on one side of the fence you have the scientists, that want you to believe that the world is built on a system of relationships, where evidence from one thing, backs up another in order to prove that its correct. This is all well and good, however if we don’t know how these laws even came into place, then how does this even have any grounding to be correct, in a world where we have no idea why, or how all the material that created it came from? Which leads on nicely to the people that sit on the other side of the fence. Religion is a wonderful thing as it gives comfort to the loss of loved ones that are no longer here, and if you “keep the faith” eventually you will be reunited. In the wake of all these questions, one thing is certain to me, and I don’t need any man from either side of the fence, that both happen to have a love affair with cords, beards and NHS speckles, to convince me to invest in an absolute.

The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.
Blaise Pascal

I have experienced on a very personal level coincidences, that cant have just happened to me for no reason at all. In my own experience with this world, so far, I have learnt that almost everything happens for a reason, and I am positive that we are here, with five unique and particular senses, for a reason. When I recall thoughts in my mind, what part of me is watching those thoughts? Is it my soul? Yes I believe it is, but I also believe that it is arrogant to think that we have a definite concept of what that even is. The unknown is an abyss of endless questions and that to me is the beauty of being alive.

What then do you call your soul? What idea have you of it? You cannot of yourselves, without revelation, admit the existence within you of anything but a power unknown to you of feeling and thinking.
Voltaire

Occupy This

The rich hate you even more than the poor; in fact we all despise you. Especially the people that never encounter your heartless selfish grip; evading and dodging, as best they can to avoid your attempts to take their hard earned cash. In vain, they hide their fortunes from you, as for the rest of us, we carry on accepting that you’re quite simply, a necessary evil. Nevertheless no doubt you haunt these evasive individuals most nights, presenting yourself as a dark ghastly figure in their nightmares, stalking them, waiting to pounce with your legal team of vulturous men in suits, wearing plastic smiles and machine precision haircuts.

George wrote Taxman, and I played guitar on it. He wrote it in anger at finding out what the taxman did. He had never known before then what could happen to your money.
Paul McCartney

Being the taxman must make for a pretty awful existence. If you happen to disagree then I advise that you build yourself a time machine and travel back to the village of Brentwood in Essex, year 1381, and go find yourself the local taxman; a most troubled fellow by the name of Thomas Bampton. One fine morning he put on his boots, kissed his wife, and marched out on to the mean medieval streets of Essex. Collecting the monies owned to the Crown was certainly a tough job at the best of times, however on this one particular morning, much to Thomas’ complete dismay, nobody wanted to cough up, and things got a little medieval, to say the least. Much to our heroes (or villains) unawares; he was going to kick start a chain of events, that would lead to the largest revolt that England had never seen before, or since, a revolution of the people!! Well, sort of.

It is not actual suffering but the taste of better things which excites people to revolt.
Eric Hoffer

The Peasants Revolt  Lasted for about a week and although didn’t really do anything, many historians consider it as being one of the many milestones in ending Serfdom. Achieving nothing from protesting has been a recognised fact of the commoners life for well over 500 years. The everyday man back then, much like the present mans voices, would only ever appear to be heard if violence on mass was wielded. Today we are very cleverly encouraged that in order to make a change, you head down to B&Q, get yourself a 2×6 block of wood, some cardboard, magic markers and focus all that built up suppressed peasant rage directly into colouring in said board then, waving your anti something or other sign around like a chimp, shouting some pointless nonsense at a double locked thick black shinny door, that’s not listening.

We sleep safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.
George Orwell

Violence has unfortunately been the rough and ready hands, that molded our world in to what it is today. Ever since the beginning of us being able to pick up sticks. Every successful revolution has been caused by violent men prepared to do all that it takes to change the lives of the people. To act, to do all that it takes; these phases are mere empty shells of English prose that now come at the price of judgment, by non other than people that long for change the most, the hippies. The most recent mass protests led by said group of drum circling, tree hugging mother buggers, was the Occupied Movement, which unfortunately, was an epic failure.

Viewed by many as an eyesore led by the crazy conspiracy theorist, that still think the Moon is made of cheese and that 911 was organised by a government that couldn’t even tie a shoelace, let alone hijack a 747! If history has taught us one thing, its that in order for real change to happen, the people must want it so bad, that they are prepared to do the unthinkable. This is known all to well by the men that pay other men to shine their shoes, for the right of free speech is an extremely clever device. Instead of a gun you have a board, that takes two hands to hold, and you can shout and scream and thrush the thing around in the air until, finally you run out of steam, realising that they’re not listening, and that you’re missing the Xfactor. The protest ironically should be protested, to have it banned. That way we shall separate the doers from the busy bodies, the geeks from the revolutionaries, and finally people will start to actually get mad.

Protesters have already raised $300K and pulled in support from all over the world; they’ve finally started earning some respect from Wall Street and, just when you thought they were a bunch of unkempt hippies… a free shoe shine booth pops in the middle of everything. Unknown Protester

Who doesn’t love camping out and singing songs? Never has there been such a massive camp out, as Occupy. It will more than likely be heralded as the biggest camping session in the world record books! But in all seriousness, had this Occupy Movement gotten ugly, all the major cities would have been plagued with riots; pointless violence with no real end goal other than tarnishing the revolutionaries as hooligans. Due to the leaderless model of this particular protest, things started quickly and got disorganised.

Although I actually agree with all of the occupiers points, what would have happened if they were successful, and how would have they managed this success? Was there a model in place, waiting in the wings to replace capitalism, was that even the ultimate goal? I can’t help but feel that the protesters didn’t really have a goal, they simply wanted to get all angry at a system that works extremely well for a large percentage of people, most of the protesters were able to protest as they had come from privileged backgrounds, while the rest of us had to gruel out our 9 to 5, and don’t actually have the time to protest, mostly due to being too busy spending all our dirty money on consumer goods we don’t need, but my god do they make us happy! This is very selfless of these apparent protesters, to speak on our behalf, but in all honesty, the whole affair can be summed up by a very simple phrase a master Jedi once uttered to his young apprentice, a long time ago in a Galaxy, far far away..

It’s not the fool whose the fool. It’s the fool that follows him.

Obi Wan Kenbi

Radness Of A Private Mind

I am the master of day dreams, drifting off every time, without fail, into a world of radness! There I can do anything, and mark my words, I usually do. It completely fascinates me that each and everyone of us has this entire world inside of our heads. The very thought, that thoughts our locked behind our impermeable skulls. People unaware of what we truly think of them, or even hiding traits and secrets of our personalities, that can only ever be speculated upon by intuitive individuals, that are clever enough to join the dots, and unless proven otherwise, will always be left wondering.  I have often found myself woken up amazed at how realistic a dream that evening prior had been. I was flying, feeling the cold air on my finger tips and wind blowing into my face, hardly able to open my eyes, as I rush around the cloud castles and palaces of my private mind.

What might be taken for a precocious genius is the genius of childhood. When the child grows up, it disappears without a trace. It may happen that this boy will become a real painter some day, or even a great painter. But then he will have to begin everything again, from zero.
Pablo Picasso

At the time before the birth of my baby brother, my twin and I used to have to share a room together,  this was actually the case until our sister moved out and we entered our teen years, much before all the spots and awkward self awareness around girls we liked, you’d find my brother and I playing in our room. that place was our fortress, our entire world. The birth place of Squeaky Mouse our imaginary friend, a battleground where good would come up against the forces of evil, on a daily basis. We would put our duvets across our beds and make dens, taking apart our toys to see how they worked, and some cases even inventing new ones out of the collection of loose parts. We used to jump from one bed to the other convinced that the more we did this, the closer we were getting to actually being fully able to fly. This place was ours, so much in fact that when our step father removed our giant toy box, to use the wood for adult things; my brother and I cried for hours, as we watched him in the back garden chopping it up with a face void of caring or emotion as my brother and I where forced to enter adulthood.

A relationship with a box must have appeared strange, or just a child’s attachment that from an adults perspective was irrelevant. Fascinations and attachments to things and places are important to me. I had always had a strange fascination with things that were high up; buildings, tall people and trees, from a very earlier age, I have looked upon these monstrous structures with conquering eyes, hungry to climb them, find any treasure that they might be hiding within their branches, (maybe befriend a few squirrels on the way up, helping them on some quest to save the squirrel princess from the evil Owl king?) Finally, many side quests later, lessons forgotten, friendships solidified, I’ll reach the summit, perching myself on the final branch I’d shout down at my brothers from the top, for I was the king of the castle, and they were the dirty rascals.

I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.
Dr. Seuss

Since breaking out, (rather slowly I might add) of my teenage years, I have found adjusting to the responsibilities of adult life a difficult one. This is partly due to wanting nothing more than to not do, what I’m expected. Managing the adult expectations of the generation above us, when I think about this, it fills my muscles with a solid defiance. I still long to play games, in fact, if I’m totally honest with myself, it’s pretty much all I ever think about. I love fun, and it surprises me how many people feel ashamed to admit and let go of the inhibitions, to accept that, this is all they want to do as well.

Innovation accelerates and compounds. Each point in front of you is bigger than anything that ever happened.
Marc Andreessen

It is a word that has a thousand applications, it means ground breaking, change, and rebellion from the tend. There is only a select few of us that walk this earth that are capable innovators; the risk takers, the ones that don’t succumb to the trends to satisfy an eager, fully laundered consumer, that it is caught in the headlights of fashion. Being brave enough to be the darkness, that the light fills, ask questions and think to yourself, fuck it. To me, this is what makes us, the ones that refuse to disconnect from our childhoods, the most sort after creative types on the planet. Ironically we’ll never all be at the forefront, as we’re just too busy having all the fun.

The Ambassadors Of Love

When I was there I couldn’t wait for it to be over, and each day seemed to last a life time! Then as soon as I left, school became a distant memory filled with nostalgia. To think that for the most part of our lives we were sat down listening to a teacher tell us facts, that apparently we needed to know!? Certainly in some cases this is true, however I can honestly say that I paid little to no attention in the class room. I spent the majority of my time outside in the class hallway being screamed at by Mrs Cook (a nemesis of mine from my infamous teenage years). I was too disruptive, I needed to pay more attention, stop day dreaming and being captivated by the weeping willow tree, that looked incredible when blowing in a fierce October wind, just across the field of my English class window. In my most recent of years, I have held a very strong opinion that education, much like youth, is wasted on the young. Entering my twenties, that decade ago, my mind had become a welcoming well of knowledge, accepting deposits from almost every interesting person I met, for the first time in my life, I was overcome with the joyful feeling of being inspired. There is however one lesson that we were never taught in school. My parents never explained the fundamentals, and all we had was an instinct and various social situations to become aware of it, and to build it. Once completed, the foundations of the structure are held together, with a woven yarn of endless fun, trust and possibility.

The more one does and sees and feels, the more one is able to do, and the more genuine may be one’s appreciation of fundamental things like home, love, and understanding companionship.
Amelia Earhart

Back to the future part 2 has one the greatest climatic cinematic moments of all time. The friendship and dependability that Marty has on the Doc, to take him back to his place in time, is left hanging in the balance, when the Delorean is accidentally struck by lighting, sending the Doc all the way back to the year 1885. Never before or after, has a movie that isn’t about vengeance, violence or science, have I found myself, to have been so affected. Shortly after the lighting strike, a cloaked mysterious man arrives in a motor car and explains to Marty that he’s from the Post Office. He hands Marty a letter, that the man explains they had been asked to keep it in a vault, for over 100 years. Inside are explicit instructions to give the letter to a man fitting Marty’s exact description, at that very place, and at that very moment. The letter is of course from the Doc. The postman asks Marty if he needs help, Marty replies with a line that even as I type this and will re-read in the future a shiver is (and will undoubtedly be) making its way up my spine, and the finale of one of the greatest movie sequels ever made, begins to climax, “there is only one man who can help me”.

Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
Albert Camus

I had a rather special realisation today. Riding my motorbike back from work, I got stuck in traffic. Normally traffic is the least of my worries as I almost always find myself zipping to the front of the queue of these caught up, highly frustrated London business types. But on this occasion The traffic on either side of the road left a gap that a foot, let alone my motor bike could squeeze into. So I dropped Black Thunder, (that’s the name of my hell beast, see insert photo to the right) into neutral and sat there, waiting for the gap to open. Most annoyingly the heavens decided to open instead, and I found myself in a full on down pour, stuck between a fat angry Audi driver and some white van guy that earlier had complimented me on my choice of transport, with a good old working class “fuck me, that’s an awesome bike!” That was when I noticed them. Two young boys dressed in school uniform, their parents clearly unaware that there was going to be a rain storm on this particularly unpredictable Tuesday. They were both running for the bus sloshing in puddles, as they ran, one taller than the other, the shorter of the two held my attention the most. he had in both hands his homework satchel, he had it held the entire journey to the bus above his friends head to make sure that he didn’t get wet. Never before have I been so happy to be stuck in traffic.

A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.
Saint Basil

Kindness like manners are never really taught, more to the case of encouraged. Kinship among peers is rarely forced, however the need we each have for it is almost certainly, enforced by our need for happiness. Friendship is the ambassador of love, you will find that the ones with the dearest friends are always the ones that bend over backwards for strangers. Happiness and friendship walk this world hand in hand, for each follows the other. Survival used to be the core instinct that we all strove to obtain, nevertheless in the age of excessiveness, the public has been divided; one side want and crave money, so much so that it twists and turns them into some kind of goblin like creature, one you’d expect to find counting away to themselves in the vaults at Gringotts.

Then their is the rest of us, our core need is something so simple that children shortly after they’ve realised that their Daddy makes the silliest of faces are, much to their parents joy, blessed with it. The smile, it is such a simple thing, yet so hard to obtain at times, nevertheless who better qualified to deliver one? They meet this demand everyday, without judgement and without prejudice, just love.

A Relentlessly Ironic, Grip

During the years of the 1990’s, one of the mainstream conversations that you’d find yourself  overhearing, in one of the many new wave lounge coffee shops, (that thanks to the popularity of the TV show, Friends, have spouted out in almost every major city of the world) among two people that enjoy a good old debate, would be that the nighties had nothing on the sixties! The cultural revolution of that particular decade, can be blamed for any number of turning points, that all seemed to meet at exactly the same time. Free love, perception altering drugs and music that pushed the boundaries, all of which encouraging the other, wrapped up in a marriage of experimentation and innovation of the free thinking rebellious youth of a generation. The children of the sixties with names like Moonbeam or Skyriver, were encouraged for the first time since the beginning of education, to make mistakes, to take things apart, to boldly answer the question that has haunted the universe ever since God decided he needed some illumination in his life, (only then to find he got a bit carried away) one question, one word, every subject, why.

Some people see things that are and ask, Why? Some people dream of things that never were and ask, Why not? Some people have to go to work and don’t have time for all that.
George Carlin

It would appear that garages and sheds have a lot to answer for. Steve Jobs and Bill Gates would certainly agree with me, that these sacred places are indeed where a million mistakes are made, yet in the chaos of wonder, fascination and determination, successes that stand the test of time and inspire the generations are born in an environment, that houses the old beaten up sofa, tins of paint and hardened cement bag seats, for the friends, that didn’t quite cut the ranks of that damp flea riddled couch! It is always these tombs of a families history, the most humble of settings, where such incredible things begin. However one of these creations, as ground breaking and innovative as it is, and continues to be, creating an industry that drives more profit than the movie business, has within its highly inspiring, time consuming enjoyment, an ironic and relentless grip, that is crushing the creativity of our children, one risk taking, rebellious thought, at a time.

This generation is so dead. You ask a kid, ‘What are you doing this Saturday?’ and they’ll be playing video games or watching cable, instead of building model cars or airplanes or doing something creative. Kids today never say, ‘Man, I’m really into remote-controlled steamboats.’
Jack White

It promotes problem solving and physiological tests have shown that it encourages children to face up to their antagonists during nightmares, however it is without doubt, going to be the cause for a serious lack of biologists, physicists, musicians, artists and architects of the future. As all will want to be, a computer game designer. It is the enemy that holds the hands of children, and blindly we welcome it; after all, it keeps them quiet right? It is this attitude among parents, that needs to stop. Last Christmas, like most Christmas’ I found myself a little bit strapped for cash. I had been out partying at the endless soiree’s of my rich, over indulgent friends, that like nothing better, than to host a good old masquerade ball in their 6×9 kitchen, as the iPod playlist of this current generations terrible excuse for mass produced noise blasts out of it! I find myself spending more money than I should on my elaborate outfit’s, sadly and regrettably having to limit the funds for my family and close friend’s Christmas presents. This lack of cash quickly put into gear my creative think tank. The only person that was taxing to buy anything for, was my twin. As both he and I share a common theory.

My family makes these vinegars – out of everything from grapes to peaches and cherries. We go through the whole process with the giant vat and drainer, label them, and give them as Christmas presents.
Mario Batali

A present reflects everything that its presenter feels about you, their thoughts regarding your character, their entire internal relationship to you. There is without doubt nothing that you can not read into more, than a present. Like for instance the selfish boyfriend that buys his girlfriend a ring, only for her to find that the stone matches the colour of his favorite football team, with absolutely no bearing on what she liked, or even wanted. This year I decided that I was going to give James the gift of creativity. It was Christmas morning and we’d just finished the ritual bacon sandwiches that our Mum makes in her dressing gown, every year. We are of course all still in our PJ’s and James is currently making his epically fast way through the presents, (being twins I found this most frustrating as a child, as we always had identical presents and as I would take my time, he would steamroll ahead, I’d always find out what presents I had before getting the chance to open them, this is still the case every year)  he eventually gets to mine and reads the label. “Merry Christmas James, this year, have whatever you want it to be” A little cryptic I know. James opened his present. At first he didn’t really know what to say, however, he now had the tools to make exactly whatever it was that he wanted, and I of course, was given the gift of his expression when realising that the heavy brick like object, he was holding, was in fact, a lump of clay.

The whole earth is the tomb of heroic men and their story is not given only on stone over their clay but abides everywhere without visible symbol woven into the stuff of other mens lives.
Pericles

My brother was tremendously touched by my gift. It is something that I know many wouldn’t understand or be able to grasp at, for their relationship with the world, with men and civilization doesn’t mean anything to them, in fact their eyes are spent enjoying the simple distractions of bums, boobies, football and video games. Nevertheless men like me need these other people as ironically, they inspire us to do something, to be creative and to change the world. As they remain hypnotised and locked into the routine of dullness, death is transfixed on them, waiting.

Theft Of A Beautiful Convenience

Saturday, it’s around 2pm, this is where on average I often find myself with sore feet. Normally around the heel area and the ball of the foot, this appears to happen whenever I visit museums. I have a strange relationship with these historical vaults of beauty, insight and knowledge. One part of me adores everything about them,  with the affair starting outside, as almost all of these grand buildings could very easily in fact, be mistaken as a royal residency. Such fantastical buildings with equally fantastic contents, and the smell, which is only comparable to that of a dusty bookshelf or a cute little church in a village like Plymstock. However do not be fooled, for  this love affair is a highly turbulent one, and very much a favorite subject of mine when at dinner parties with Guardian and Daily Mail readers (I like to mix it up). Although I love to grace the fantastic halls and have my mind, soak up the endless knowledge that is so freely available, I almost always leave with sore toes, a hungry stomach and a slight pain in my heart. The ache is not one of disappointment or regretting that I had skipped my Weatabix, but a pain that is born out of anger, I leave with hate, for there is an internal battle taking place inside me. A conflict that will never be resolved.

The museums and parks are graveyards above the ground- congealed memories of the past that act as a pretext for reality.
Robert Smithson

I used to believe that the museum, along with its gallery counterpart, was the perfect 3rd date arena. Providing you ignore me on a Sunday or Monday morning before 11am, I’m a fairly smart chap. This becomes more apparent when I’m escorting a female round said halls that I am far too well reheresed in. Thanks to my spouts of singleness and lack of football watching enjoyment, you would almost always find me in the V&A on a Saturday morning sporting a pair of those timelessly fashionable headsets, that cost £5. Which I might add, if you are prone to individual outings to galleries and the such, are certainly worth it, they tell you lots of Interesting date fodder. I might also add that the daytime date, if you’ve not managed to woo said target, is a clear winner, providing of course that you’re actually an interesting person, otherwise a nighttime drinking session is a fare choice, as drunkenness can often result in a “he’ll do” situation. I have however noticed a trend with all of my museum dates, to date. When we leave, I have the exact same conversation with them, whereby I express this love hate relationship that I feel so passionately about. After which, depending on the character of the date, will determine if a 4th is around the corner, it almost always, isn’t.

I went to the museum where they had all the heads and arms from the statues that are in all the other museums.
Steven Wright

One of the best and greatest bits of factual information, that I have ever read, is that somewhere, buried deep in the catacombs of the Vatican secret chambers, is a sealed box. War, natural disaster, nuking a painting because it’s haunted by Vigo the Carpathian; there are all sorts of regrettable, but perfectly legitimate reasons why valuable art has been lost to the world. But sometimes, there is no good reason, and what makes this even worse is that sometimes (yes sometimes), the very vandals are in fact the sworn protectors of the innocent and precious. In ancient Greece, Rome and essentially all of Europe, way up till the 1500s, public nudity was a fact of life. A dirty, sexy fact of life, mmmm! So if nudity was so great to these chaps, walking around with their wangs out, why are so many of these statues missing their most valuable/comical parts? Why are there fig leaves on their crotches, a fashion choice that defies both logic and physics? In the 19th century Pope Pius IX whacked off (figuratively speaking) a whole array of stone cocks, put them all in a box, and locked them away, so that they would not corrupt the minds of the citizens. Personally, up until ever being graced with this superb knowledge, I have had no intention of ever going to the Vatican, however how wonderful would it be, to say; “somewhere beneath this magnificently beautiful holy palace, there’s a giant sealed box, rammed with clay cocks!?

Property is theft.
Pierre-Joseph Proudhon

I love the escapism and the fact that by living in one of the worlds greatest cites, London. I have access to such a wealth of knowledge. Yet I cant help but feel sad, regretful and angry, as during our imperialistic age, we raped of all the most interesting things from nations all over the world. I have never had the pleasure of walking through the tombs of Egypt, but whenever I think of it, I imagine a lot of empty space where exotic objects once stood, and belonged. That upsets me greatly, nevertheless I love that the common man can visit these priceless artifacts because they’re in his local museum. It most certainly is a theft of a beautiful convenience, and I will never decide how I truly feel about museums, but perhaps by simply visiting the places where the artifacts came from, this would help to restore my faith.

Charmed, I’m Sure.

It’s like an overly presented piece of nonsense. You first find yourself walking into a room that has that late naughties black on grey flowery patterned wallpaper, that you immediately question, is it still in fashion, or has it been replaced by some pastel minimal nonsense? You almost feel like saying, “yes we get the picture, you’re cool, you’re retro, and you think that raising an eyebrow from across the room to the girl with the hot red dress is enough.” It’s not enough, in fact it’s never enough. The essence of cool and being cool has lost its clout. Men like me and my fellow gang members are in a constant battle with trying to appeal to the sexy, less crazy girls of this world. This breed of ultra female are few and far between, they more than likely don’t exist within the realms of the singleton. Nevertheless, keeping yourself on top form in order to appeal to these darling creatures, makes for a very difficult task, especially when you consider the impact of mans newest enemy. It destroys relationships yet has the power to build them and make them flourish with the beauty one would expect that charm, good looks and a thick wallet could muster. The craft will sap every ounce of cool out of your being and turn your brain in to a charmless bag of fleshy mush if not wielded with the most carefully guided precision. We all love this vile game, almost as much as we adore detesting it.

Love comes when the game stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.
Joyce Brothers

There are two types of girls, the ones that make you work for it, and the ones that give it up; more often than not the common misconception is that “it” is of course sex; the base males ultimate goal! However a recent trip to California soon put the “it” myth to bed. Over there they have embraced the empowerment of detaching oneself from the burden of giving “it” up, and now have sex as freely and willing, as any man would. California girls, we salute you! Being seen as “the man”, “the boss” or “the leader”, the coolest guy in town within the eyes of your target woman and being made to feel like you are the one and only man in their lovely little pink tinted lives, out weighs all the sex you could ever wish to get. Women it would appear, have used the game, implementing various degrees of distance and other smart little mind numbing tactics, to make you, the man, feel like you are not the man. Is it evil? Of course not, all of us men have been manipulating women guiding their cute little bodies in to our beds, using our lies and empty promises for centuries. Women have cleverly raised the bar. They have figured us out! The chase is now more difficult than ever, and why? Because we made it so. Had we stopped all the tricks, the lies and the manipulation we’d have never had to deal with the text message that ends without a question, or the first date that only lasts an hour and she only orders an orange juice! But all is not lost my dear fellow brothers of the penis. For we have something that they can not resist, as long as you harness this ultimate power at the begin of your first encounter, remain as one with it, then you will not fail. She will give it up quicker than you can undo her dress using your Omega Seamaster magnetized, for her pleasure.

A man of such obvious and exemplary charm must be a liar.
Anita Brookner

Charm in the hands of a man is deadly to a woman. It is a spell that is more powerful than a wallet full of cash, a handsome chiseled chin, the abs of Jesus or a basket full of puppy dogs. With charm you are the only man in the room, with enough charm you can be the only man in the world! But can it be taught? Many have tried and failed. The book by Neil Struss called rather aptly The Game, has come close, with rather interesting theories that mostly suggest that all women are dumb, and quite equally, so are the men! Apart from dear Neil of course, or Style as he rather homosexually calls himself.  Unfortunately a series of interesting subjects, flirtatious body language and silly over the top outfit decisions, does not make you charming. Confidence and being comfortable in your own skin, the love of social interactions is certainly a good start, and unfortunately also this is where the lesson finishes. For the laws and practices of the charming is a closely guarded secret, we cant let everyone get a shot at all the pretty girls now, can we.

Our Profound Connection

I am a firm believer in the importance of change. This change can come and present itself to you in a variety of different forms, but it is the change that awakens something that is deep inside of you, and when it happens, you must embrace it. Nevertheless, a routine is a hard wall to crack, although some routines are easier to escape, generally we find the letting go of difficult situations the hardest. This is specifically apparent when dealing with relationships that come with a backlog of history. Letting go of people almost always feels like you’re waving goodbye to all the fond memories and history that you had with that person, but the change that comes is inevitable, and if not embraced; prepare yourself for regret.

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.
Anatole France

Beings of vast emotions and intellect, subjectively judging our actions and reactions with others, we all too often forget, that although we say goodbye, and our lives change, we are in fact, all the same. Up until recently I have never had the pleasure of feeling one with all mankind. Nevertheless I had experienced it during my acid trip around 7 years ago where much to my dissatisfaction, I had arrived at the end of time. But, it was thanks to Werner Herzog who introduced me to some of the simplest, yet profound paintings to have ever been depicted, anywhere in human history, then all that, changed. My relationship with art is a somewhat complicated love affair (as you may have read in a previous blog The Art of Deception) most works of art don’t mean anything to me, mostly due to their vulgar capitalistic functionality and utter pointlessness, which of course is as far from art as you could ever get. The paintings that Werner showed me, were crude, basic and of various extinct animals. When looking upon these paintings with such a base approach, that is what you get. Some were no better than a child’s, that you expect to find hanging by a fridge magnet. Unfortunately some people will see just that. It is this lack of blindness to complete wonderment that people like you, and I, should rejoice. We don’t just see a few animals, We see ourselves, and the universe.

In a forbidden recess of the cave, there’s a footprint of an eight-year-old boy next to the footprint of a wolf. Did a hungry wolf stalk the boy? Or did they walk together as friends? Or were their tracks made thousands of years apart? We’ll never know. Werner Herzog

In 1994, a group of scientists discovered a cave in Southern France perfectly preserved for over 20,000 years and containing the earliest known human paintings. Knowing the cultural significance that the Chauvet Cave holds, the French government immediately cut-off all access to it, save a few archaeologists and paleontologists. But documentary filmmaker, Werner Herzog, was given limited access. The Cave Of Forgotten Dreams introduced me to an array of different emotions. I long to visit the caves in southern France and sadly know that due to the importance of them, I never will have that chance. Nevertheless, thanks to Werner’s film I feel as though I have been there. The film itself, successfully builds a bridge between us and them, the artists. Never in all my life have I watched a film and had it move me so much. Not for love or relationships lost and won, but for the reason that we all need to embrace, that we are in fact all connected, and no matter how much we change and grow apart from one another, we will always have this profound connection, that will stand the test of time.

Huffington Post

You can now follow my blog over on the Huffington Post where I’m currently expressing my various weekly musings!

You”ll find it here http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/robert-bradley/

Thanks

Robert

Here is a link to my new blog on the Huffington Post website and my article titled A More Capable Supremacy