I’m back! Although it actually feels more like I’m in holding mode (holding my knackers, kissing my arse goodbye and waiting for life’s next kicking (nothing like a bit of the old ‘ultra-violence’!), or a dose of the rays of hope & tears of joy – speaking of which I have just watched the last quarter of Gladiator….and gushed at the end as usual!:
Anyway, where was I? Due to the vicissitudes of modern life, I have been tied to my computer in less enjoyable, but entirely necessary pursuits , but have managed to map the weeks away in terms of pictures of my various discoveries while walkingz.
Pt 1 was free as a bird (but no beatles) & three is a bird:
One, the number of blackbirds seen (almost enough for a pie…and so many committed relationships);
Two, the beautiful stork which I saw twice (and sadly disturbed when drinking (the stork, not me) the second time) and
Three, the sparrow tree (a skittering mass of birdies bundling in and out, flying off and back en masse, a rolling ball of energy (& sometimes adornment), that made me feel tired just watching!)
Pt 2 started gently…..on both sides the shadows were rising:
and just out of shot Tintin’s Snowy was advancing fast, could the day be saved…did it need to be in that gorgeous early morning sunshine? Hot already……but not burning in the fires of hell like some places we once ‘owned’. Why do people do that to each other? Fucking why? Nothing makes this right. It was naive, but give peace a chance! Hate is not an inherited trait, please god tell me this is the case! The shades of the sandstone are beautiful whichever way round the weathering makes them (and no matter how sad, demonic – or not – the face revealed):
It’s just nature:
so remember, when you’re in the dock, the one eyed alien is king!:
A boy waters this vegetation (now with ‘added embarrassment’), but when exactly is the cut off age above which this becomes flashing rather than plant endanger/encouragement?
Perhaps the first efforts of a pavement artist in the making (or of a pavement seen through art):
Like stars seen through a rip in your space:
and up above lies the eyelash sky:
Pt 3: Is all that glitters gold (well if you take it at a snail’s pace, perhaps?):
My daughter was being haunted by a ghost (or was that just ‘near’ and ‘far away’ land?):
Then I found Punch hiding in the shadows:
And close by the lady of the hydra hair:
What are their stories, can I read the patterns in the grass (x 2)?:
Sun leaves:
My heart:
Are clouds electric?:
Up above the fake tornado rises:
While I find myself ‘in clink’:
Pt 4: A trip to the seaside:
White out! Everything is bleached white by the suns rays, like a coating of snow, only more see-through, today everything seems a little crushed, heat exhausted…so I deal an old sunset cooler:
but the sun glitters off waves that are not there, retina explodes, in the distance a beautiful lady sunbathes, seiz(ur)ing the day. The sand beguiles:
Do I see the elephant in the room? Is it white? Is it me? I am one with Pachyderm (Robert Antony Remix):
Those who know music will know they will see the unexpected, hypothetical, be-spectacled bear (never before seen by this observer) – note my slightly out of focus background, is it significant?
We play spot the difference:
For I am lost, I see horses gallop through my wooden thoughts:
My kingdom (don’t make me laugh! No, please don’t, for I fear I will cry, wallowing in better times half forgotten. Why let the truth get in the way of a good story, no matter how bad it got, was it still better?)
I feel straight jacketed. Could I just throw it off and walk away from conformity? Or is conformity what is real? The rest is just a fantasy, a dream (UK koala bear adoption programme last night!), put tantalisingly out of reach. The dream to aspire to, to keep me going, slogging on, crippled by doubt, what is a life? What makes it worth living? Is it the little things? Do they deflect attention, massage away the big questions….
In the distance the scream and roar of super bike gear changes on the top road complement The Resurrection and Revenge of the Clayton Peacock (Michael Chapman) perfectly, as I traverse Orion (perfectly sketched on the pavement by the impact of falling stones from a collapsing wall) and later also:
Most recently (Pt 5)…..as I pass the fallen pine cones under an apple tree (?) and kick up a cloud of dirt, I am reminded of being a super hero in my youth. Picking out the finest lumps of dried dirt that would explode around my ‘super villain foes’ (although all this was knocked on the head following the completely unrelated stone-skimming-is-dangerous blind-in-one-eye brother’s incident).
There’s, how you imagine yourself to be (a kite flown Tibetan monk, high above butterfly filled meadows, who can hear his eyes moving in his sockets) compared to how others see you (a fat freak, wandering around in oversized blue headphones, modelling a nice line in self depreciating, self pity). The two do not frequently collide, but when they do it’s just awful (beware mirrors and always have a strong dose of AC Acoustics at hand for emergency administration – preferably in a sweaty venue under the railway arches (memory will do, but the tender ministrations of mp3 will help). Alternatively I’m quite happy to have The Argument with Grant Hart (one hell of an argument!!)
High above the dragon flies:
but down below I feel a darkness of poppies:
lightflickeringthroughleaves 