the most heartless man to ever own a pulse…

Icon

Jensen Wilder citizen journalist and photographer.

My Hour as Art: The calculations of a Soft Machine.

One must always bare in mind the often overlooked power of a single thoughtful person. Though we are often unaware of the impact we can potentially make, we must attempt to prepare ourselves. This thought was brought to me from my recent experience as a plinther. That is, being a lucky participant in One and Other, Antony Gormley’s new art installation.

Being up on the Forth Plinth in Trafalgar Square was one of the most unprepared moments of my life. It was like approaching one of the seven wonders, or the peak of a mountain; there is simply no way of knowing how you will react.

When confronted by such opportunities, a more refined soul might have gone up with a speech prepared. I might have preached, screamed, recited or otherwise constructed some form of sentiment that would have undoubtedly taken the moment away from me. I might well have run for an hour like a robot, speaking words that I’d pawed over for weeks in advance. Not so for the willful creature that I am.

Instead I listened a little too intently to a small voice from within that said ‘you need only ‘be’!’ I decided to go up, no props, no gimmicks – just a lone soft machine, held aloft for an hour.

I would say even now, that was/is enough.

Art itself (for the most part) cannot alter its form to better suit the audience before it. Once it is produced it is cast in that form. The painting cannot gain another few brushstrokes, to add more colour here or focus the eye there, just because the person seeing it would find it easier to understand. It can but assume a lasting posture and only stand by and weather the praise and criticism it receives with equal solemnity.

I went up there to ask the world questions more directly than most art does, to be a mirror that might allow people to see something of themselves whilst speaking a language they themselves spoke in. I went up there to do what art does, not interact with the audience around me, but to get the audience to engage with itself.

The truth is we make art to remind us of what will always remain important. We don’t make it as a target for our insults, or produce it so that it will locked away. We want it to be shown to an audience, to tell a story, to make a point, to request more of ourselves than is polite to ask in person. We use art to crack open the human spirit.

Of course I am referring to art as generalized art, that of the gallery displays (paintings primarily, or perhaps music also, certainly the photograph), rather than the more innovative methods that artists now engage in. I know full well that art does not stick to its definitions, by definition it is endlessly re-educating us of limitless features.

So, I got up on that stone pillar with the idea that I’d more clearly do what art does. So that I might connect more directly with people and get the message across. My mission was to Raise Awareness for Awareness. I wanted people simply to start asking themselves questions.

Back to the experience itself, once up there I lost my words and almost my balance.

We cannot know our qualities until we have been tested to our limit. So all I could comfortably expect of myself was that I would continue to breathe and that my heart would beat (albeit madly).

When I got up there I had no idea that I would lose much of myself to nerves. There is a lot to be said for the written language (and much has been); however, I more admire anyone who can stand to speak and explain their message with clarity. I do not have the ability to speak easily in public, though I do now intend to improve.

In any case I am happy that, with that small sight of my limits, I was inspired.

I’ve come off the plinth with a renewed acknowledgment of myself, but also of the influence and inspiration I have to offer. I met and spoke with many people and the reactions have been incredible.

People do want to talk, people do want to learn why things are the way they are. Even those who initially became hostile in the face of art, grew later (after conversation/explanation) to understand. They too added their own voice and perspective to the endeavor.

I may have been alone, an example of a young man with a lot (perhaps too much) on his mind; but no-one was unworthy of a place there on that plinth and those who asked questions took their place alongside me.

Now uniquely aware of how much impact a single soft machine can make when placed in the right location. My plan is to go on putting myself in challenging places, to do what I think is good and right and just. To ignore the voices that want me down on their level and to use my own to lift others out of the flood of indifference.

I’ve shaken a dozen hands, hugged people who were strangers, dealt with the irrepressible masses and I have come out of the experience; not better, nor worse, but different.

Filed under: Existence, Future, Happy, Lonely, Love, Sad, Strangers, about me, anxiety, art, hopes, influences, other people's lives, solitary , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

oneward and upward

Okay. RIght. Testing, testing. Hope this is working.

It is.

Right.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to this whole One and Other thing. I’ve done my smart thinking now, I’m over that. I’ve reasoned out things and I think I’m going to be okay. Just going to get up there, pose my ideas and then breathe it all in.

Been having a few emotional tantrums recently – my heart all a flutter.. ex-cetera … It all comes from me putting too much stock in this thing.

The truth is, I don’t need to get it ‘right’ or do anything to ‘please’ anyone. I’m smarter than needing to take my level from other people’s figures.

I wrote a little piece last night for my novel – “Feel bitter, feel like you want to hit me; but don’t deny the fact we made each other pretty happy. In the time we had.”

That’s what all this means, it is getting up there and just saying ‘This is me. What are you?

I am the art that can ask questions of itself, as much as of the observer. Now that is a revolution!

This morning I got a call from a mental health team member and they have invited me over to get checked over on Wednesday. I’m going to go along and tell them everything. I will write a little something for them first. A little history maybe. Something to explain better than I might be able to.

Oneward and upwards with things.

Filed under: Competition, Day-to-day, Depression, Existence, Family, Friends, Future, Happy, Re-Genesis, Reality, Sad, Training, about me, anxiety, connection, genius, genus, hopes, influences, news, novel, other people's lives, sermon, solitary, writing, writing the novel , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

One and Other: All Just Soft Machines

One and Other: All Just Soft Machines.




www.askyourselfaquestion.blogspot.com




There is a certain weight applied to the spirit when one engages deeply with the process of consideration and analytics. There are questions that will send you mad with wondering. Questions you will waste away trying to answer, so I’ve made a loop-hole for myself. A safety rope of sorts.




‘The answer never matters as much as that you asked the question.’ (I hope I’m quoted for saying that, though I’m sure it is an unoriginal sentiment.)



That is my attempt to save my sanity. That is the line that will console me, through the darkest moments of my journey.



That is what this whole Raising Awareness for Awareness idea is all about. It is about getting people merely to consider the question, if only for a moment, of who and what they are. It is what Gormley is asking us 2,400 to do. It is the question that many will have asked and many will have simply bypassed and said ‘what can I get up there and do!’ I’m not convinced it is a point of ‘doing’, but of ‘being’. I am still more intent that the aim of this whole thing is to ‘ask’.



I hope people will say – ‘What am I?’ Who am I?‘ ‘Hey, what is my politics?’ ‘How do I feel about justice/death/religion/charity/piety/immorality/sexuality?’



In some it will prompt the asking of more questions, in others it will awaken the certainty that they do not wish to ask anything further of themselves.



The safety rope will hold me back from being lost in questioning for its own, energy-draining, sake. I will keep my focus on the idea that I am struggling forward, but forever secured by my belief in my chief aim. To tone my mind, like any other muscle. One step toward being fit in mind, body and human spirit.



My ‘loop-hole’, as I put it, isn’t to wriggle free from the responsibility that comes from my starting this quest. I will not shirk away from the fact that there will be people who will reach out for an answer and gather up some objectionable theories. There will always be people who think their truth must be imposed and world should suffer its implementation. However, I feel knowledge of ourselves will lead to knowledge of a great many things. I believe that with knowledge and consideration comes empathy; and with that, unity. We are One and we are Other.



The answers may differ, but the soft machine that calculates is always of the same construction; mind, body and human spirit (or whatever you call it).





@jensenwilder

Jensenwilder@gmail.com

Filed under: Depression, Existence, Reality, about me, books, genius, genus, influences , , , , , , ,

what is the point of change?

What is the point of change? Is it for yourself? Or for others?
At what point do we change? When we learn our lessons? Or when we act on them?

I’m growing. As ever, I’ve been reflecting on self again, but in way of a preface to this post I will say something.

I believe, or am coming to believe, that a major reason for my ongoing difficulty lies in my inability to resolve myself to myself. I have been brainwashed by a religion, and by relationships I have had, into thinking that I care only for myself and no one else. That to do what is best for you is to act out of self-interest and that is inherently a bad road to take. This is a hard thing to wriggle free from. However I think I have reasoned toward an explanation.

I am aware of myself and my impact on the world. That does not make me egotistical. I am not self-interested as much as I am interested in myself and what I am. I am capable of love and adoration for people around me. I close myself off to those around me so that I do not infect them with my sadness. That is a selfless move. I am normal.


So many things are driving my change. As ever the continued focus is self-development, whether I should consider myself egotistical, or if I am not unreasonable to assume that I must be aware of myself. Is it really egotism or just an important self-awareness?

To that end I’ve started a new blog askyourselfaquestion in which I will pipe my enquiries and ask questions and see through the investigation.


Very quickly here I will explain two main inspirations. The first being Socrates ideas. 



Socrates theory is that the soul is ‘mutilated by wrong actions and benefited by right ones.’ He means those actions undertaken by the self, rather than those undertaken by others.

One striking thing about it is that it doesn’t appeal to the altruistic, but rather to the germ of self-interest.

His idea cannot be realized by the greedy and self-interested alone; but instead putting self-improvement above all other motive. Neither does this unusual ethics rest on any hope of heavenly reward or the fear of its opposite conclusion.

The benefits of virtue are reaped more or less immediately, for ‘to live well means the same thing as to live honorably’ and ‘the just [man] is happy and the unjust miserable.’

Tough idea to swallow. It doesn’t hold water in the way you think. He is highlighting the idea of the health of the soul being paramount, above the importance of the body.

His idea is of practicing moderation to secure a future of good health, instead of hedonism to secure a few more immediate ones.




This strikes me and asks fundamental questions of me. Namely my own motivation of change – do I act solely for myself? Or does it bring a greater good? By being more aware of myself and my impact on the world, will that make me more sympathetic to others. I think it has so far. I feel a lot more in tune with things by being more comparative in my reasoning.

The next point is to talk about how I will develop myself. I think it is not nearly enough to tone one part of the self. So… Frank Harris puts it like this.


I made up my mind to train my will by exercise as I would train a muscle, and each day I proposed to myself a new test. For example, I liked potatoes, so I resolved not to eat one for a week, or again I foreswore coffee that I loved for a month, and I was careful to keep to my determination.

Celui qui vuet, celui-là peut: ‘He who wills, can.”



To explain this in its effect on me is to say, ‘I have realised pretty late that I need not punish myself for not being immediately able to control myself. I need to train myself to be slowly and accumulatively better.


So I’ve set myself the aim of exercising my mind first, as it is the part of me that is most refined to this point. Hopefully the change and development will be reward enough to insist that I continue with my project. Next will be the body. I feel it is something I take for granted. I’m not sure I can say I’m healthy now, certainly more so than I was, but I do want to be more of a temple and treat myself with more care.

So ‘mind.’

Indeed – questions i’m wrestling with are… 


Why do I sway toward the conclusion of a divine creation/will? – Is it childhood teaching; or a force-infomed conclusion, like gravity?

What does a creator mean? Does it require worship? Does it define goodness inherently?

My question for today – why do i want there to be a god?? To relinquish responsibility for my existence? or to have an explaination for it??

Does my wish for there to be a rule or order to things come from a spirit of self-interest? Do i wish for rules so i can learn/utilise them?


Filed under: Depression, Existence, Future, Happy, Lonely, Reality, Sad, Training, Youth, about me, anxiety, hopes, influences, prose, solitary, writing , , , , , , ,

not happier but doing something

Today is just the same as yesterday in terms of mood, but something happened last night.




I know it is a tired fact that I start a new novel every week, but this one isn’t new.



This one has taken shape in my mind over the last three years. This one I have lived.



So everyone who has known me over the last three years, you might feature in my new novel.



I’ll not be posting anything up. It is far too sordid to do in anything but a clean surgical incision.



Publication is the aim. I have written the outline already (I usually never have a plan).



The first line is a gem. It isn’t making me happier to write it, but it is at least something to do.



Filed under: Depression, Lonely, Reality, about me, nightmare, prose, published, the novel, undervalued, writing, writing the novel , , , , ,

have a heart? almost.

[the stops are because I can't get the formatting right. sorry.]

.

I’m going to answer a couple of questions about my progress this year.

.

    • Think about what has gone well this year. What are you happy with? What has been successful — & how did it come to fruition? What have your greatest achievements been so far?
.

This year has taken me up and down further than any year before it. I’ve evolved so much I’d swear I was in new skin, if it wasn’t the same damn face staring back at me every morning.

.

Success is measured in so many ways, but I’d have to say making my emotions level out has been the biggest success. Learning to drink in moderation. Making lasting friendships. Two more things that I’m greatly thankful for.

.

Great achievements have been getting published (and paid!) in The Times for my photograph of One and Other in London.

.

Surviving a massive breakdown isn’t something I’m going to sell myself short on either. I’ve done a hell of a lot of work toward easing my mind and heart. I’ve been up and down, but I’m flying along at the moment.

.

I’ve no stressful job, a roof, a great girl, creative expression out the yin-yang. Photography is great, designing and making clothes and jewellery is wonderfully fun, writing is triple kick-ass. I’ll have a collection knocked out in a couple more months.

.

So, yeah. Lots of stuff.

.

    • Think about what could have been improved upon. Could you have tried harder in a couple of areas? Of the things that didn’t go well, what could you have done to change the outcome of that situation? If you had taken 100% responsibility at the time, do you think things would have played out differently?

.

I could have done a lot better at making money. I’ve let quite a few opportunities slip by me. I’m not really sorry that I did, more just that I could have made a bit more cash and had a few more nights on the town with people.

.

If I hadn’t been a coward, then perhaps things might have gone better. I wimped out on things because I was being overly careful after a few setbacks.

.

    • What were your goals at the start of the year? How are they going? Are they 20%, 50% or 100% completed? If they’re not checked off yet, why not? (Don’t be afraid to admit they’re no longer important to you if that’s the case.) If they’re still things you want to make happen, what could you do to speed up your progress? Who could you ask for help? How can you break up the goal into manageable chunks to make it easier to achieve?

.

I didn’t make any real commitments at the start of the year. If anything things all changed pretty sharply, so if I’d completed the goals that I had, I wouldn’t even be in Liverpool. So I think rather I’ve adapted well and when my goals flew out from me, I took the opportunity to put a bit of distance between myself and making goals.

.

Some things I did decide on quite quickly was to make better friendships and invest myself in people more. Be more honest with myself and others. 100% complete I’d say.

.

    • When you look at the people around you, what have they achieved that you’d like to do too? How can you make that happen? Can you ask them for assistance or advice?
.

I haven’t considered this, but there are a few people I have met which have made a real impression on me and I do intend on emailing them for advice and simply to make myself known to them. Some are local, others are netweb people, but all are fantastic people.

.

    • How are your finances looking? Are you making as much money as you want? Are you saving any money or just spending it as soon as you get it? Should you ask for a raise, start a savings account, cancel your credit card, stop obsessively trawling eBay… ?!

.

My finances are in better shape than they ever have been. I’m usually crippled with debt and spend more than I make. Right now I’ve lowered my bills and have made a few streams of revenue. Plan is to get into seasonal retail to get enough cash to pay back my parents and take a trip to a few places in Europe. Venice and Rome are on the plan. Paris is a place best kept for a romantic escape. Maybe Berlin too. Cheap travel with only a satchel and a few empty journals. Definitely taking my camera too.

.

No one is ever making ‘enough’ money. But I’m making enough to keep me comfortable.

.

Credit card is cleared off, long ago.

.

There is nout wrong with internet shopping!

.

    • Are you happy with your career? Do you feel stuck? If so, why? How could you alter that? Is it time for something new? How can you improve your situation? Where could you grow? How could you branch out?

.

I’m LOVING work. Whatever I earn is from art. Whatever I make is from something that I have made. It’s a wonderful feeling. I’m not stuck at all. I’ve got to do some seasonal work, but there is no stress because I can jack it in after I have the cash saved up to travel. Then when I get back I’ll only have to get some part time work to keep my head up, earning more money from art as I go.

.

    • What do you do with your spare time? Are you constantly playing catch-up & running errands with no time to relax & just do nothing? Is there a class you want to take? When was the last time you took a holiday? Are you in control of your free time or is someone else?

.

Spare time. Well, I have it all to myself now. I’m running about doing things, but having fun doing them.

.

After doing my bit around Europe I’m hoping to enroll in University again, but starting again from Year 1. I figure it gives me a year to get into shape and then I can play the last two without pressure.

.

Going to study either writing or photography – I haven’t decided which. I figure that photography gives me more earning potential. Writing is still my main talent though. We’ll see what the world offers me as direction.

.

Last time I took a holiday was prolly down to Falmouth. Can’t wait to go back. I think I’ll be heading off down there again to see a mate later in the year. Just need to get some cash.

.

    • How does your body feel? How healthy are you? What are you eating? Do you exercise? Are you drinking or smoking more than you’d like? Do you need a spa day? What positive steps can you take towards a lifestyle you feel happier about?

.

Damn, these are loaded questions. Can I just say that people seem to like it? OH!

.

Yeah, healthy. I get a good lot of walking done. Sailing keeps me fit enough.

.

Not smoking. Not drinking much.

.

I totally need a spa day.

.

I need to get my bike in action, so I can start racing around this tiny slip of land I call home.

.

    • Are you getting along with the people around you? How are things between you & your lover? Your workmates? Your kids? Do you ever see your best friend? Do you ever get personal emails?

.

Things are great with people. I’m getting on with my friends well. Set to meet more shortly when I start doing the shoots I’ve got arranged.

.

My ‘lover’ is fine.

.

My workmates are quiet. I’m solo, but it means I have less nights out with the crew.

.

Best mate is many miles away.

.

I get a personal email pretty much every day, people from my past, people who like my blog, people who hate it, people who want to meet me in Liverpool. I’m in demand.

.

    • How about you? How do you feel about the person you’re becoming? How’s your personal integrity? What are the attributes you hold in high esteem? Are you embodying them? What can you change? What can you begin accepting?

.

I feel i’ve answered this already. I’m 100% wicked, wicked, wicked.

.

Personal integrity is at an all time high. Which is as much a surprise to me, I can tell you.

.

Truth now is paramount to me. I will not lie.

.

Totally embodied.

.

I can be bolder, more courageous.

.

I can begin accepting every given opportunity.

.

    • Are you involved in your community? How are you helping the people around you? Do you know your neighbours? What could you do to improve the lives of people in your immediate vicinity?

.

More and more involved with the people in this fine and grubby little city.

.

I like to feel I’m here if people want to make use of me. I could get more involved helping people (note to self).

.

I do know my neighbours, but I want soon to have new ones.

.

My new motto for improving lives is :- Give more, take more.

.

It improves mine and other people’s lives. Wonderful.

.

Filed under: Day-to-day, Depression, Existence, Friends, Future, Happy, Home, Love, Nightingale, Poetry, Reality, Today, about me, hopes, novel, poet, prose, published, undervalued , , , , , , , , ,

such blissful experience

So where have I been? what have I been doing? I know you are all ears to hear. I’ll reveal all.

For the last few days I’ve been having a wicked time living in Liverpool with Nightingale. Three days of wandering by myself, visiting museums and art galleries and shopping. Only bettered by evenings of film and fun with Nightingale herself, home from work. Not merely this but we also managed to squeeze in a takeaway and a french resturant and i’ve readied each to the nostalgic banks of my brainpan.

Arriving back from said few days pretty early Friday morning and the tide is in just the right place for a sail. Again I’ve the honour of steering her, while my father and his friends recline supine with only the burden of watching the distant shore in all its beauty, give way to an ever widening league of calm water.

We raced another yacht and soundly thrashed them even with their attempt to shorten the distance against our stern in a shameful attempt to make us turn off and abandon the engagement.

Afterwards was the ceremonial drinking session, my mother joining us for this particular section of the sailing lifestyle. And there we stayed until the sun dipped itself into the sea behind us and the heady air lessened its sticky grip to the call of a soothing breeze.

There is no way I cannot romantisise such blissful experience, there is no shame in showing how truely blessed you feel to have such opportunity.

This morning saw a small brick sail through the window of my idealised world though. A man, on seeing that I did not partake of communion with the rest of the flock, decsended and started to preach to me. His words laced with the smugness of a self-satisfied mind, I was forced to smell his stale breath as well as to listen to his sermon.

I told him straight. “I have no faith and do not feel myself lacking.” Except that I do feel a lack, just not the lack of a god. It is a god-shaped hole, as I have always commented, but only in that sense of it being a borderless gap. Only in the sense that nothing is large enough, it seems, to fill it.

Regardless, I carried on. “I’m very moved that you came to speak to me, but i’m not going to be a hypocrite and drink HIS blood if I do not agree with the ritual.”

That said, he smiled a sacrimonious smile and said “Son, what’s your name?…” “Son, I think next week you will drink with me.”

“I do not know I will be here next week.” I replied.

“One sunday you will drink with me. I am sorry if I have offended you.”

“No, not at all.” Leaving it here, except within my head rang the words – ‘I’m actually glad one of you people took it upon yourself to speak to me, no one else has and its pretty clear that is the reason that this congregation is flagging.’

The simple truth is that the whole building it apathetic about its faith, afraid to get in the face of the unbelievers. Afraid to say their way is the right way. That’s a shame.

I’m glad people preach, I’m glad there are outreach programs for every system of worship. I don’t see faith as bad and surely if you believed that people you meet were going to burn in torment forever, you’d have a thing or two to say. They’d do the same if you were about to walk in front of a car, and these people believe that hell is as real as that car, so you can’t argue it is bad for them to try help us. Were you convinced of its authenticity enough to be fearful of it, you’d try and help if you had an ounce of compassion. So, they are just fulfilling their duty to their fellow man. As long as it stays as a choice that one makes for oneself then it is great.

Anyway, this guy, the loon, he just smacked of ‘L’ plate christian dogmatic fanatisism, he went a bit far – if only in body language.

Now sitting at the kitchen table, I’m reminded that most of my life i’ve been battered constantly by the wind and wave and zeal of a christian family and I’ve very rarely faultered in my own conviction. That only being that God does not, as far as I have experienced, exist. I guess that I’m desensitised to preaching, that or bull-headed. Maybe both. Maybe neither and I’m just more open-minded than my parents. I don’t know, or care. Safe to say, I’m not closing off my head to sooth my heart any time soon.

-=-
My goodness, I’m late getting this onto the net. I’m currently sitting in my seat in front of the 50-inch HD tv, watching a program about rivers. Griff Rhys Jones presents. I love it.
Okay, so. We didn’t get out this afternoon on to the marine lake. It ended up being a slagging match between parents. It ended up being a massive stress which I managed to avoid, choosing instead to keep my focus on the books I’m reading.
Right now the news is on.
Did I miss anything?

Filed under: Drinking, Existence, Family, Happy, Today, about me, hopes , , , , , , , ,

on reviewing the recent and the far-reaching

“I am disheartened again. It’s busted I think. My heart, that small seed was the start of my unhappiness. It is my heart’s doing. It sulks. It languishes in the pit of my chest. Fallen from a branch of bone. I ache for comfort, for encircling arms to close around me, to hold me. I want to be secure with a warm someone. A hug. An embrace. To hold on for dear life. For how dear that person is to me. For not wanting to let go. For wanting everything to melt into the atoms they consist of and leave us, untouched, as we are. For wanting alone. For the wanting. The passion. Lust. I want for everything that comes of wanting deeply. Of wanting so deeply that there seems to be no part left of me that does not exist for that other body. That there is no stitch, no essence, no section that is not saturated with the flavor of them.

Taste is something I think I am currently obsessed with. I’ve learnt the value of herbs and spices. I’ve started to take care of myself again. So by that, I mean I’m eating but doing nothing more to prolong myself. Sorry if you thought this was me turning around and grabbing hold of life or something equally benign. But have no fear, I’ll not starve. You all understand why I neglected myself; too many other people to save and “When you over analyze, you tend to neglect your own well-being? as I have said. So really, it was spending time and money on people, rather than on food; and doing so because people are more interesting to write about than pasta.

Due to my months of eating next to nothing, I am now down to nine and a half stone, which I am secretly proud of, because it was that weight I was before I got with The Smile Reverser when I was fifteen-years-old. The first reason I became The Raining Man. I can do the same trick with a scarf; wrap it around my waist to show how skinny I am. To show how clothing alludes to me being in them and really I am only half there.

Bad points? I am starting to see signs of muscle wastage. My sheer skinniness puts me at a disadvantage when confronted by anyone on nights out. I have very little strength at all, to the point where I have to move chairs one at a time, rather the trademark, grab two and go. When I went to buy food this week I could hardly lift the bags.

Good? I do have more of a regard for the workings of the human body. It seems that bone and muscle does indeed move us, as I am now lifting and flexing my arm to see the motion actualised.

So yes, taste does tie in quite well with the need for someone. The fact that, that someone would have the grace to look after me. To feed me, or at least make sure I feed myself. It isn’t that I can’t do it, rather that I will not, I’ll neglect to, it’ll slip my mind while I am writing about how sun warms the stems of dry grass, how the wind makes music from them. Or something equally picturesque.”

I wrote this some 3 years ago – I wrote that I was depressed and wanted someone to love and look after me. It happened and it didn’t save me to have it happen. I still had the same cycles, I just had someone there with ‘the grace to look after me.’ At least, for a short time.

I maintain, and always will, that I don’t need someone who will be a carer for me – just someone to care. I’m worth keeping around, I shouldn’t wonder. If only for the amusing tales I can tell about the time this girl did this, that girl did that, or another girl almost didn’t but did.

Life has gone back to a worrying simplicity. I wake up, I read, I write, I go for a walk, I flirt, I drink, I come home, I flirt via text/IM, I sleep. Scatter in some screnzy madness in there and that is existence and I’m pretty bored of it. The sex is good, but its not really making me want to stay alive and active. I guess only apathy is the force that is keeping me breathing now.

Filed under: Amy, Coffee, Day-to-day, Depression, Drinking, Existence, Food, Friends, Future, Girls, Happy, Reality, Sad, about me, books, burslem, hopes, nightmare , , , , , , , , ,

Blather like you mean to say what you’re saying…

 

Not long ago – days ago even – my imagination had me many leagues below an ancient ocean.

 

I dreamt I had returned to my long estranged hometown and, to recover long ignored memories, had ventured onto the sandstone hill I had played on as a child. I knew, as I had not then, that I was walking on stone that had once been a seabed. So, walking this same stone – this one-time seabed now turned sun-heated baking tray for every unlucky mollusc that lost its way. So walking this same stone that trilobites would have scuttled over – and now lie buried within – I wished wholeheartedly to take my time and engage with this feeling and the easy sustenance I found from it. This effortless meal of fantasy and immensity stretching out before me, that made me at once feel small and insignificant and then, in the same moment, made me feel integral to the world.

 

All this felt as if I were bringing all this life back, what had once been teeming and had laid for so long, that it might perhaps crawl up and out of the rock and start again the toil of existing.

 

Whilst standing there it became clear that, though I longed to join in with this aqua sutra – though I wanted to move back in time and occupy the same space as now, feel the cool water around me. Though I wanted a fantasy, for the pressure would have crushed me and I could not bring myself to accept that. Though I wanted so desperately to be a part of that world I know that if I were transported back I would not join, as a drop of water would, that ocean. Instead I would join it as a slick of oil.

 

Always wholly separate, that is how I am. That I would not fit in with prehistoric creatures is little surprise, that I could never fit in back in my hometown had the same ring of sadness to it – even now.

 

It is at this point that I find myself outside my childhood home, a shed on that same hill. The rusting roof, the doormat, the seats and that table made from a tire and a stop sign. I walk in and everything is upended. I walk out and find my old tools, a spade and some sheers, broken and rusting.

 

The day carried on, the sun pressed down on my skin, filling each pore with a rock pool of its own and glittering on the stone as its rays met the occasional polished grain – just as it glistened when the rays hit my moist skin. It had been like this all day, hardly a breeze to stir the stale air. Up in the endlessly blue sky unknown birds circled; too small to be vultures, not to mention unlikely for England, but still my imagination ran away with itself and I prayed swift deliverance from their greedy gaze. The song of crickets in the dry grasses sounded like the sizzling of eggs in a frying pan. The only other noise was the far off sound of engines on the duel carriageway, about two miles off in the distance, their survival ensured by our reliance on them.

 

Coming back to my hometown is like looking at fossils. There is no way to resurrect those old memories, or travel back to meet them. I must clarify that I wish to rewrite, rather than repeat those memories. They are now just fossilized, unearthed with careful thought. I can remember quite a bit about that old world I used to be a part of. Can see myself, undeveloped, like our ancient ancestors that would then have simply been curious looking fish.

 

Purpose seems to be the theme of these thoughts. That I have no purpose is an ever-present concern. My tools, rusting, are no longer able to do what they were meant. I have my wishes, aspirations, and targets. The trouble is that there is no impression in the stone for these things. I cannot trace the outline of a body. Cannot work out how they will move and come about. The ancestor cannot trace the family tree forward.

 

Realising that I have been standing on this almost lifeless mound for the last few hours breaks the spell. I walk down, first through brush – shoulder high and thorny – then down through greener ferns. Eventually I reach pavement as I leave the hillside and venture down through the winding streets and some time after that I arrive at the train station to board a train for my home, some 300 miles from this world.

 

As I look out of the carriage window there is a great rumbling – straining to see further down along the train – my face is pressed flat against the glass as I see uncountable tons of seawater fall onto that hill and rush down to greet me.

Filed under: Reality, childhood, hopes, mount, nightmare, sleep , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

NaNoWriMo

my twitter musings

  • three stories written all about characters with shit super powers - titled 'The Power of One', 'The Power Two Help', 'The Power of Threedom' 2 hours ago
  • SoKo's - I'll Kill Her - is an amazing tune! I'm all moody dark because of it - I'm adding lyrics 'I'll Help Ya!' as a backing singer lol 10 hours ago
  • I want this http://tr.im/F3IR 12 hours ago
  • currently signing all the petitions on the number 10 website - the ones i belive in anyway 12 hours ago
  • @whatkaitedid better than discovering you have an evil twin stashed away in the attic 1 day ago
  • @NovaWildstar went totally off his nut - 'it was like so overdramatic! He went right angry!' - 'this is hell', i thought, and wandered away. 1 day ago
  • @NovaWildstar in fact i was just at b.head north and some chavs were talking about how she had 'jokingly' said she'd been raped and the guy 1 day ago
  • or maybe its the neat hair and dodgy glasses? God I need a makeover - where's Gok!? Perhaps men should adopt a fetal pos. when women come nr 1 day ago
  • I'm glad they are wary of their safety but it is shit to be considered a possible attacker for wearing a fashionable long coat - #modernman 1 day ago
  • think young women must be disappointed when I don't try and attack them - after they go to such effort to cross the road only to cross back 1 day ago

Flickr Feed

B&W Open Mic-118

B&W Open Mic-117

B&W Open Mic-116

B&W Open Mic-115

B&W Open Mic-113

B&W Open Mic-112

More Photos