no words

this is an email that should’ve been sent; however, since i wasn’t writing for my life i failed to get my arse in gear and was given a reprieve……i don’t think i really wanted it……it starts as was intended but at some point it’ll become now, and who knows where it’ll go:

you have this look; it’s a knowing look, not about anything that will happen, nor any piece of information or fact; not knowing what i’m thinking even; it’s a look that says, ‘i know my own mind….at this moment in time i am in complete mastery of my thoughts,’ it has no future or past in it; it is completely about the present, it was once accompanied by one of those little jokey shin kicks/shoulder barges that had it’s own voice which said, ‘do as you’re fucking told,’…..the looks were always given in close proximity; not necessarily whilst holding each other but the majority did: we would stand with our arms round each other, i would look down at you and see a look in your eyes of serenity almost – i don’t know whether i’m putting words in your eyes here but it’s what i thought and what i remember – a look of ease and comfort at giving yourself, in all ways, not just sexually; a dominant subordination; take me in all the ways you can and i shall tell you of the ones you’ve missed: sometimes i fell into this look and other times i felt torn and unworthy; it is a look that i will never forget and never fails to make me smile, and will always make me love you…….this is essentially where my thoughts had gotten me before we texted earlier about your long-awaited release; i don’t know that it should really mean anything with regards to what i write; it was quite a stilted text session and obviously didn’t have the flow and detail of previous ones; maybe it’s enough that you know that that is on my mind as i type – how it shapes anything is anyone’s guess – i had the feeling that this email was going to be a strange one in that it really was going to explain nothing of any real meaning; it was going to be a list of some nights and days that we’d spent together that were very very very pleasurable and will stay with me forever, and of course it was going to go some way to explain my behaviour, or at least the look on my face that night at the office……i wanted to tell you everything; everything, everything, everything; i wanted to tell everything that would make you hate me, and then everything that would make it alright, and i really think i could have; it would’ve taken some time but you’d come round, you’d say fuck it let’s do it, let’s make it work, fuck them and all they stand for, give me your baggage, all of it, i want it, i want the struggle, you’re worth it and so am i, look into my eyes and know them, give me what i want; that look would’ve trumped all previous, i wanted to let myself love you fully and openly, but i feared you’d just hate me instead, so i said nothing…..i put you through having to give me that look, and i put myself through having to see it; it was horrible, and haunts me still; i can only imagine what it felt to give it; and then we got a second go; i got the look on the station platform, the kick in the shin, the thought that i’d have to break your heart all over again….but i went home with you and we made a mess….i should’ve told you then too, but the only advice i’ve ever listened to in my life has been that given by my own addled brain; the only advice i’ve ever been given has been from my own addled brain since i’ve never asked of it from anyone else – at the most complicated, full, and utterly lost time in my life; if i even managed to find the words with which to explain it, what could possibly be the reply other than, ‘just stop…..just stop what you’re doing and take a fucking break you tit,’……..well like i say; i can get that advice from myself……and why follow it not……pleasure of the moment, pure and simple, pleasure of the moment; the feel of your skin, that’s not even the start; the thought of you; the idea of you, the thing that the conscious mind isn’t even aware of, yet even to be given the mundane tag of thought; the beginning and end condensed to a singularity of pleasure, and to have that actually manifest itself, actually come into existence and drag me with it; the look of you, the feel of you, the taste of you, the sound of you, the smell of you, the balance of you; i got lost and knew exactly where i was, where my fingers were meant to be, how my tongue was meant to twist, what resistance my arms were meant to give, how tight my grip was meant to be, how deep in all holes my self was meant to go, i know everything that ever need be known; nothing else matters……..but it did……others mattered more……and there is even one other whom i love even more than you….i’m with her neither….and she is beyond words

and remained fun

ninety-seven years ago:

after basically conning dopey, effeminate, fibreglass-gusseted hairline inspectors, jack kerouac left my nice old place quietly, rather suddenly though, under vexation, whilst x-raying your zoo’s zebras, yet xylophones were violently uprising; taking sides, rioting, quelling puritanical oppression, never mind letting kerouac jump in his getaway ferrari, every damn cymbal busting arse, attacking beautifully carved deities, every fearsomely garish haute invocation justly killed like murderous nazis, opining pretty queens ravaged sadistically, tethered, used, violated, watching xylographs yellowing, zairian zabaglione, yesterday’s xanadu whithering vengefully; unable to save righteous quintessence, perhaps our nice making love, karma, juice inside her, great feelings endured, desperately coming back again

i don’t know that i could muster one now

the alphabet is fun

though technically i can’t can’t take credit for this as it was written a hundred years ago by someone who just looked like me:

aberdeen’s abhorrent aardvark beats bouncing bishop coz cartoon cat does demand demi-ecclesiastical echoed epithets for foreign forces gathering ground, greatly hitting happy, highly ingenious inbred inuits….just jolly joking, kindly kissing king lawrence letting lacsidasical merry men make naughty noxious noises or ogle orange people passing privately, quickly, quietly, quintessentially regal regarding roses settled serenely ‘side the track, tracing untold uniform umber valleys, vicious victuals waft waywardly whereas xylems x-ray xylophones, yet yellow yaks, zebras, zygotes, zealots yell, “YES, ypres, x x x, we wish well,” vibrant vibrations vacuum up useless ushers; ten terrible tearaways smelling sickly salts retching reacting rather queerly; quacking quims pressurise pouting penises ordering orifices open, now nubile nipples massage my mouth, luscious lips let kinky knickers know; juicy jet just inches in increasing horny heaps helping great groans get faster, filling filthy ether, every ear dares dirty deeds; come cum, completely bury bouncing breasts……almost……….ahhhhh……………..aaaaahhhhhhhhh

i broke a heart yesterday

well technically it was two, but hers gave rise to more pieces than mine……i’ve been building up all night to write this and now i have some time i’m bereft of the energy required to state anything beyond the above; or maybe at the moment i don’t see the point; the intrinsic point, that cathartic point you presume shit like writing about something shit will help; we had such great sex: super sex we called it – well she coined the phrase, and i had no reason at all to argue with the terminology – and when we could go no further, when our spent bodies had exhausted all positions in all holes, we would hit our porn wall; sweat and cum dripping off us, hearts thudding thudding thudding, a severe and dangerous inability to breathe properly; but the porn wall was always hers, and as i had the strength to reach for the wine i would sup….letting the cool red liquid mingle with the taste of the girl lying next to me; her arse, her cunt and her sweat all rallied round the newcomer and joined forces in order to set about assailing my senses; my body tingled and occasionally i would be finished off – anally was out of the question as we were beginners and once you’re out of there it can be quite the tussle to get back in, therefore often aborted till another day; vaginally was an option so long as soreness and swelling were at a minimum; if not then orally was the final recourse; if however she was sound asleep, i would smile at the thought that once my initial hatred of the alarm that was due to go off in the next two/three/four/five hours had subsided, options two and three were back on the table and we would part for the day both calm and satiated; the warmth of without doubt the best way to start a day coursing through our blood

is calling someone an idiot ever the right thing to do…..

very often, yes

is it wrong

to read the blog of an emotionally unstable, suicidal girl in her late teens; watch her moods fluctuate; hear the despair in her voice over breakfast, and the joy in her song over dinner; knowing that the girl has no qualms about blogging several times a day and therefore knowledgeable about the fact that if she doesn’t post anything for a week it could be because she’s taken her own life, and then a) ‘like’ the post but leave no supportive comment, b) leave a generic comment that has undoubtedly been said to the girl a hundred times before and therefore only serves to make yourself feel better, or c) do nothing

a) i assume to be some exponential form of something akin to ‘enjoying’ blood on the tracks; it’s just not the right word to use, and just because there are only two one-click options it doesn’t mean they’re your only choices

b) is worth no more comment than this

c) has the most diversity in it, but at the moment i’m only interested in whether it makes a difference as to the morality based on the intrinsic leanings of the voyeur……i.e. is it more wrong to do nothing if one professes to care

if right and wrong are absolutes then no, it doesn’t matter a fuck; but they are not, they are relative terms; if two people stand at different places on the same morality continuum – i.e. one person is considered more good than the other, perhaps because they care about their fellow humans more – if they both then perform the morally suspect action of reading the aforementioned blog and doing nothing, at that moment in time they both lie on the same point of the continuum, however the greater ‘fall’ has been by the better person; they have done more wrong by doing nothing than the person who didn’t care to begin with

inspiration

i don’t know that i get it, and i don’t know that i get it; i can breath in of course, but i’m talking about the thing and things that make us create and for whom we do it, and is an ‘urge’ the same thing as being inspired……i found a random splurge on the internet a while ago that begins with an urge, and wonder whether it was inspired by the intended recipient, or they just happened to be someone to whom the author could write; and whether, due to the very fact i’m writing about it, it is itself inspiring……it went something like this:

 

“i’ve an urge to write…i’ve had one for a fairish while now but never actually even attempted to start; if through the same old problem of not knowing where to start, a lethargy brought on by not starting sooner, thinking i should get my jobs done first and then really not having the energy to do anything, or by some deep-seated knowledge that it’s probably just not that wise a thing to do for some reason that undoubtedly i know about but refuse to acknowledge….i think it’s the last one………..though i am pretty tired after doing all my jobs……………………………………………………………………………..it’s the last one. 

 
“so here’s me ignoring that, and apologising for the opening five words of this email – which i haven’t really made up my mind yet whether i’ll actually send – this is without doubt the greatest piece of nonsense you’ll read in this email; even when i wrote it i knew it wasn’t true, and that was two weeks ago! like i’d continue to albeit sporadically spout and then not send it……to you of all people is quite beyond the wit of man – though this is questioned later on – i toyed with removing this little interlude as it breaks the flow and timbre of this particular outpouring and its subsequent impact but then i thought fuck it; the apology can include this bit too – – – – which are a little pretentious, giving an air that this is some kind of milieu of mine; that i’ve been taken away from the very essence of my life, or it from me, as the result of a not over-draconian prescription resulting from a precise diagnosis drawn from the unequivocal symptom of a man not merely biting the hand that feeds him but conducting a thorough and prolonged sequence of ever increasingly painful and humiliating methods of torture upon it, and that for my own safety and of others around me, the ability to put pen to paper has been denied me…..by me……but now i feel i’m cured, or at least on the road to recovery anyway; i’ve not only seen the errors of my ways but accepted them, processed them and devised a sure-fire way of redeeming myself unto them, i’ve talked about them, through them and to them and we’ve reached an understanding that not all will be understood, but most, and the rest shall never be ignored nor over indulged, drenched nor droughted, stuffed nor starved, but coaxed and encouraged and curtailed when need be, maybe understood at a later date, kept warm, left for the next in line to fathom; shelved but dusted, and that since one’s demons are inherent to one’s being, one must up and at them when the time is right; hence a return to the quaggy mire that is words and their simple placement of one after the other, learning to walk again after mistaking one’s legs for…..things that aren’t legs………like i say; still learning……….but it’s ok because this is not the medium of my survival and all you’ve just read relates not, hence the apology for the opening five words of this email…if only there was some way i could take them back? unwrite them maybe? delete them? i’d have to delete a whole lot more if so…i’ll stick with the apology…..i may delete this last bit though; it’s become quite dull…….i’ll just move on.”

 

it goes absolutely nowhere; it’s akin to trench warfare, a whole lot of fuss and carnage only to make negligible ground, is that inspired: it’s taken a starting point i.e. the simple feeling of an urge to write, and then proceeds to take it back; ground has in fact been lost….does the result of inspiration reflect on that which inspired it, to at least those who were not intended to experience it: do we assume the recipient appreciated this email or did they think it was a load of bollocks; and why not both, for it is not beyond the wit of man to guess at the load from some bollocks having never not gone unappreciated; ipso facto this single ejaculation could well have been appreciated, and inspired the birth of a reply….even if that be only a kiss

i think, as with everything – if i stumble on an exception before this is posted i shall insert ‘just about’ before ‘ everything’, and then i will make a decision as to whether i delete this bit that i’ve just written – i’m inspired by the above email to simply leave it regardless – – it entirely depends; in this case that dependence is on the definition, or at least the insinuation expounded on it, of the word inspiration….and since the definition of inspiration is far too vague to avoid making it anything but an entirely subjective concept, we are left with opinion, and if someone deems something to be inspiring – although the caveat with that is that they actually have to do something once inspiration is proclaimed – then they have brought it into existence and an inspiring piece of work is born from just a piece of work – what abominations may subsequently arise in the name of said work could leave the adjective unwanted, but this is by the bye

so it seems that with regards to inspiration, i get it and am getting it; i may fully get it; this may be all there is to get; i’ve certainly moved from my original position, although i’m less certain of whether i’ve gained ground or lost it

humour found in the funniest of places

in my last job i spent quite a lot of time with old men; men who fought in the second world war in fact: i was at this one guy’s house working away, chatting about this and that, and he asked me where i went to university, i said, “leeds,” he replied, “ooo, i bombed leeds,” – he was german you see,- and i laughed, he then went on to justify it by saying, “it’s ok though because you bombed kiel, which was my home town.” i can’t in all honesty remember the name of the town he said; i seem to recall he mentioned it was a village, which kiel is most definitely not, but kiel is where he was born – he has his own wikipedia page – so for the purposes of avoiding long drawn out parentheses disrupting the flow of the dialogue i went with kiel……and the results speak for themselves

i found my goals

they’re shown to you once you’ve posted a blog……glad i could be of service

if i can navigate wordpress

i feel i could navigate my life….at the moment i can find my goals for neither, i’m unsure of what a tag is, and i’ve read something very worrying about pinning – i don’t know what pinning is but now i’m afraid of it, what else is there that i’m unaware of but should be worrying about….i thought it may have been the ‘show/hide kitchen sink’ button above but it turns out that that is quite harmless, it’ll probably be in the world of actual written blogs that i’ll find this threat though i don’t think i’m brave enough just yet to give it another go; there are really quite a lot of blogs in there and it could be in any one of them, i may find a little courage later after some sleep and some food

i started reading a blog about themes and widgets but i’m nowhere near understanding what really goes on to warrant personalising my blog; after all no-one may ever read it so i could be wasting valuable writing time, or golf ball movie-making time for that matter, i think i will try to make a short film on my phone that stars a golf ball and try to post it……i assume that this can be done, for if not i will have to set up a youtube account and then link to the movie from a blog i post here, i of course assume i need a youtube account rather than it be a simple case of uploading a video because this appears to be the universal constant with regards to this kind of thing