again...

again... again... again... i have managed to fall in love again... why does this always happen? never prepared... never ready... she was sooo beautiful! sooo captivating... as she approached the bar, we locked eyes. i was prepared for anything but her, to be anyone for her. i just wanted to be with her... her seductive eyes... her sexy ... i'm still drunk on her presence... the seconds were like hours... i don't know? i'm sooo picky with my women, but occasionlly, i'm smitten... how can such beauty have such an effect on me? how can i become so powerless in seconds...? i wanted to kiss her... to feel her tender embrace... am i obsessed? no!! i'm mereley fascinated with beauty.... again... i want her sooo much... i long for her sooo much... but, she was taken... i will never forget... i can never forget you... aaahhhhhhh....

some thoughts...

~ "it is not a tragedy to die, but it is a tragedy not to live."

~ sapere aude - dare to know

lizards...

I see you slippery lizards sliding along a river of asphalt
Chasing your counterfeit dreams
Dreams created by the bigger lizards
Who have forged your river of black
And how you love your dreams
Why look at that new iron boat you drive
Isn't it pretty
Doesn't it fulfill you and please you
Look at that sundial on your arm
It tells you what time to go to work for the big lizards
And after you have worked all day
You can go buy more shiny dreams
And continue this cycle
Until you die
OR...

the chip shop...

It is with great dismay that I watch one of the cornerstones of our society slowly disappear. As a child, it was one of the highlights of the week to go down the local chippy and to pick up a delicious portion of fish and chips. Lots of salt and vinegar… absolute heaven! Now though it is so difficult to find them at all. Why? What has happened? I do like the odd kebab, and I am a fan of pizza, but there are times when only fish and chips will do. So, as I have witnessed this decline in numbers of the good old chippy, I can’t help but see the rise in stupidity. Hmm… Strange you may say, but look at this logically. Fish we have been told for years is brain food. It apparently helps our cognitive functions and therefore we stay somewhat clever. If I can then draw your attention to its replacement – the doner kebab. Not brain food, but processed chopped bits of red meat. Again, pause and think about this… Now, if you then consider the nation who consumes the most processed red meat in the world, and who also has the highest percentage of obese dumb bastards in the world, then I think you will start to see where I am going with my little investigation. It is all perfectly logical! It all adds up. So, the only thing we have to do is build more fish and chip shops, and the country’s evolutionary rise will put any nation to shame. We were an empirical force when there was a chippy on every high street. Look what we have become… So for the sake of the nation, and our children, and for fear of becoming as stupid as the Swedish, let’s bring back the chippy!!

art...

As I walk around this city, I find it very difficult to find truly moving art. It saddens me that slowly our artists are disappearing. Well, they aren’t really disappearing, but they are taking the bigger money and the comfortable lifestyle in exchange for supplying bland, uncompromising, unchallenging art. This sell-out attitude is sickening and socially disturbing! Artists are the minority of people who ‘see’ and are able to ‘tell’. We are allowed more freedom of expression than most because it’s ‘art’, yet we squander our opportunities to spread this vision. Surely we have a moral obligation to effect change? To use our scripts, columns, music, voices, brushes, pencils, cameras, our very movements and energy to at least try to do something about all this social injustice around us must be a given? It is vitally important at the moment that we speak out due to the corporate handcuffs placed on most intelligent journalists and the pure stupidity of the other alleged journalists. It’s not just the global issues either, which are horrific, but we must start at home. It’s New Labour, and their attempts to steal our liberty from under our noses, through the guise of protection. Their community support officers, ID cards, ninety days imprisonment for suspicion – not conviction – of terrorist activities… Has anyone heard of Big Brother? This is an Orwellian nightmare come true. So where are the artists’ protests? Does anyone care anymore?! Then we have issues such as religious hatred, racial hatred, mental illness, gang violence, sexual discrimination, age discrimination, just to name a few. The problem with most of these things is that people misunderstand what the others beliefs really are and are not educated responsibly by the media. The headlines from most of our papers only fuel these misunderstandings. We have much more of an uphill struggle due to the fact that most of our papers are built around celebrity and sensationalism rather than honesty and education of the masses. The young people and children of our society walk past our newsagents every day on their way to school and are influenced by these small-minded and unintelligent headlines. We have to spend time understanding these things. I feel we need to use our varied passions to help educate the young and the old. If we can make people see through the eyes of those with differing opinions it would surely have an affect on them. I understand people want success and money too, but surely we can dedicate part of our time to working on things that help soften these tensions and make us a more progressive nation. Is ‘art’ now only about money and status? Have artists now become post modern jokes on what artists should be? The problem is that we’ve missed the joke… This is now the status quo for ‘artistes’… I’ve got no problem with them being the self indulgent, self obsessed, pretty people of Shoreditch and the West End if they are creating controversial, and politically charged pieces of ART that make people think. To make the public think about SOMETHING surely must be the essential component of everything we create! The thing is unless we are careful, we will be sat in these places in 30 years time and everyone will still be having the same conversations, and we will look out the window and IT will be gone – OUR CHANCE - our chance to say something. We will have failed to affect anything but our health. I’m all for having a good time, but lets not that be the focus, but the success of our work be the reason for celebration! You may say, ‘It’s too far gone! There is nothing we can do now!’ I say that apathy is the reason we are in this terrible position now, and if we want our children to have any future at all, then we must start caring now! Maybe I’m a dreamer, but unless we can see a future, then what does that leave us to live for?

broken...

it's very difficult to see someone you love very much have to struggle through the chaos of life. it's almost unbareable to witness. i can take it when it's happening to me, but not some beautiful undeserving soul. the frustration of being able to do nothing really but listen. agony! why do these things all come at the same time? in order to make sure you really do break? my view is that at these times you really do know there is a god. the times when eveything goes wrong. this sadistic piece of shit with his dark sense of humour... not the beautiful things, not the enlightening times, nor the peaceful times, but the terrible ones. ahh... i don't know... it just really fucks me off! i just really can't deal with those i love sooo much having to bare these psychological crosses. they aren't even physical wars where you pull out your scarred war torn fists and say 'come on you bastard!' it's those internal battles that consume you for every waking second,and refuse to release you until you barely have the energy to crawl, much less stand or walk. its when you have cried so much there are no tears left. it's when you are staying in bed more hours of the day than out of it. BROKEN... it's one of those words that really have potency. it's linguistically perfect. it somehow sounds like the emotion. the whole process is so very strange tho. when you do come out the other side it's all like a bad trip. when you wake in the morning and reflect on the night it all seems like a bad dream. you can't and won't forget it, and you are aware of how horrific it was, but it all seems so far away. you remember how completely distraught you were, but it's like the event was so traumatic that it seems dreamlike. i have watched some of the most beautiful people in the world suffer through tragedies so evil, and some even be taken from me. you wouldn't even script things so dark, but they survived, and are now greater warriors for the cause. so this is for all of you, my brothers and sisters in arms, and to our eternal struggle. don't let the bastard grind you down!!! x

ice cream...

people sooo underestimate the power of ice cream! it's unbelievable! a couple of days ago, as i battled against the hordes of people on oxford street, i felt as though i would collapse on the cold wet concrete. i was certain my short lived existence would be prematurely ended due to exhaustion. as all hope was slowly disappearing, i spied with my little eye - the ice cream stand. with this renewed sense of hope i managed to struggled on. i arrived in front of this oasis of sugary goodness and felt like a child on christmas morning!! after much deliberation i selected my flavour and cooly floated through the crowds down to the tube... everything was so much easier now! the ice cream had saved me! i slid onto my seat on the piccadilly line, and like a cheshire cat i licked my precious ice cream cone, and coyly smiled at the very cute girl sitting opposite... she was jealous... i could tell... everyone was sat there with their november tube faces on. the "now it's fucking dark before i finish work faces..." if only they knew the cure... if only they had an ice cream...

roy ayers ubiquity

Ronnie Scott’s, London

I had heard the legendary stories of the ultra cool vibraphonist Roy Ayers for several years, but always missed his shows with much regret. So it was with much anticipation that three friends and I coolly sauntered into London’s most famous of jazz club’s. This was also my first time visiting the late Mr. Scott’s lounge, so this was making for an exciting cocktail of an evening.
Ubiquity comes from the Latin meaning the state or capacity of being, or seeming to be, everywhere at the same time. This describes the Roy Ayers sound exquisitely since he throws a plethora of sounds ranging from traditional jazz, blues, disco, latin, and even some rock and roll.
So after the Michael Deans Quintet warmed the ears of a packed house at Ronnie Scott’s, the band nonchalantly strolled out onto the stage all smiles and laughing among themselves. The fluidity of the band was something to be in awe of. The saxophonist who came to play here with Ayers many years ago, and never left, was mind blowing. He could hit any blue note on the spectrum. The guitarist, bassist, and keyboard players were all very accomplished in their respective areas of expertise. The drummer has an amazing future in front of him. He is probably in his mid twenties, but one of the best jazz drummers I have ever seen live. Then of course there is the man himself. He stands in front of his audience like a cross between a gospel preacher and circus ring leader and juggles his bright red drumsticks in front of you as he hypnotises you with his heady sounds.
They played several of their hits including “Lifeline”, “Get on up, Get on down”, “Don’t stop the feeling” and of course his most famous “Everybody loves the sunshine”. The adoring crowd bounced, swayed, and nodded as the pied piper of LA exuded such a carefree atmosphere. He constantly interacted with the crowd during this mesmerising and bewitching set. The first half finished around midnight and quite a lot of the audience left at this point, and in the second set when requests started coming in for “Everybody loves the sunshine” he gently reprimanded them for being late, before playing the song again. At the end of the gig the band all mingled with the crowd which added to the intimate feel you have at this venue. Seeing them was a long time coming, but well worth the wait. I look forward to their return, but feel as though they never leave this town.

hello autumn!

autumn has arrived once again... a lot of people don't like autumn, or maybe don't get it. maybe i'm 'strange', but i love it. i love the brisk winds and the cold rain and the leaves changing colour. the rain especially... it has such a cleansing effect. i love running in the rain! the autumn is a time for parts of you to die and wither away, but also to hibernate and sit and read and ponder and learn new things. it's like sowing the seeds of the new sides of you that will flourish and flower in the spring and shine in the summer. it feels quite natural to me to reflect the seasonal changes in my own life, and to follow the rhythms of mother nature. so it with great pleasure that i welcome autumn back for another year...

torn soul...

today has been a strange day. it's funny how life, just when you think you have a grip - ever so slight - on your life, reality, etc. you're reminded how little you know and little control you really have. in my mind it is all quite clear. finally. i think 'this is it. i know what i'm doing, and who i am' and then some dark subconscious thought comes to the surface and shatters all those things you were working towards. it's a fine line between concentrating on the beauty, and dealing with the darkness... why? we long and search for those oasis' of happiness and balance, which seem to be so elusive. i want to do sooo much, but cannot work out whether the stumbling block is me or the world i live in.... so, the struggle continues....
p.s. this is my first blog and i dedicate it to miss corina guidi - my star of the south...