NOT

I like to be warm, not hot; dry, not perspiring; awake, not conscious; quiet, not silent. I want to be taught, not patronised; entertained, not marketed to; persuaded, not targeted. I see colours as subjective; religion as intractable; attraction as elation. I dislike religion, not belief; defamation, not sarcasm; dissection, not examination. I aim for somethings, not everything; fact, not rhetoric; understanding, not acceptance. I've been rejected but not defeated; found out but not caught; labelled but not branded. I'm working for mine, not me; a career, not a job; life, not a lottery win. My cup still has some in it; my butter side is up; i look up to think, never down. I'm nothing special, not a special nothing. I'm given to faults, but not giving in to having them. I'm me, not you.

Wittering #2

There are some groups of people with which I have no sympathy. Some which I can't stomach for one reason and one reason only: their earnings. The justification for paying some people more in a year than I'll turn over in my working lifetime is just plain wrong. Footballers, for example... Now it is said that a room full of Chimpanzees with typewriters would eventually type Shakespeare; now if the freakishly talented ones managed a sentence, they would be equivalent to top football players and could be rewarded with obscene amounts of money, access to the most hideous cars and tricked by News of the World prostitutes. But, and here's the thing, they would still be Chimps, they would still pick fleas off each other and throw their excrement at you, and more than likely masturbate freely while being interviewed by Lorraine Kelly. Well, who wouldn't? So that's my view- pay footballers with bananas and old tyres on rope, and televise monkeys wanking over word processors. Sky would show it, without a doubt...

Teenage ticks

When I was sixteen I met a girl who, inevitably, I fell for. Let's call her Sarah- for no other reason than that is her real name. She was perfect; long straight black hair, stunning complexion and a cutesy mole on her top lip, ideally placed as a full stop to her beauty. We were close, visiting each other and conversing by letter (a much missed and forgotten format), and we talked as much as possible. Like the inept, emotionally unpropagated turd seed that I was I never told her what I thought of her, never tried to kiss her, never did anything other than let it sit in my brain like a sticky goo that refused to be coughed up in words. She, also inevitably, ended up getting off with the slimiest twat in school and broke my spotty heart. I hid it well; only around 95 percent of people noticed and I managed to keep it off the news. Just. I wonder about her sometimes- her name is too common to search for so I'm left wondering, probably eternally. I hope she's fat and unhappy though, just because I'm not. Bint.

Wittering #1

Some things that cross my mind regularly, or even occasionally...

I wonder what people think of me? How many people have I met in my life, and is it a lot or a little? Is there a parallel life that plays out the decisions you didn't take? Is there someone exactly the same as me in the world? I doubt there isn't. Where would I be if I hadn't met my wife? Is it possible to be a good person without being good? How old is water? Aren't trees beautiful? Why is pop music so very very crap now? Why do fat women wear unflattering clothes? Does everybody have a guilty secret? Why am I prejudiced against stupid people? I hate losing. Will I ever grow up? Is that Jane Horrocks sitting next to me on the tube? What music will be played at my funeral? How much would be enough for a lottery win? I dislike religion. I dislike iPods. How much is enough? Has anyone read this, and if not, am I bothered? etc etc ad nauseam...

Fretting and nail-biting

I often have a frustration that there is some sort of creativity inside me that remains unexplored; not that I am even sure where to begin finding it. I worry about what I write on here, perversely, because someone might see it- which is irrational as it is anonymous and I can say what i like. I think I need to write what I want and see what that does over time, after all I never began this for anyone else. Sometimes I wonder if some writer, somewhere, began in such a manner; writing down what they were thinking in lieu of any great profound outpouring. I don't know. Perhaps this is just the inane rambling of an idiot. All I have learned is that I don't need to be clever or funny sometimes to be satisfied with what I say...

There is no substitute for being honest and not trying to hard.

English Summer

The fields are burned; balding and scarred, their margins hiding in shadow for relief from exposure.

The trees are wilted, their heads hung in tired resignation, melting and bowing toward the earth.

The sky is darkened and buckled, blued and annealed from the heat, stainless lustre bruised.

Poisoned yellow grass prickles in the breeze, dried spines scratching at each other and the boiled soil.

Buildings shift uncomfortably, creaking and ticking as they compress, windows hung open and roofs breathing back the temperature. Roads soften, rails grow, paths and alleys radiate.

Only the river offers respite, glinting and whispering in cool defiance, solace from the heat.

It must rain soon.

Things I hate, part 1

A random list of things I detest, in no particular order: Stupid people, Crocs, cat poo in my garden, The Sun, Blackberrys, Jeremy Clarkson, charity collectors, middle age, deliberately loud conversations, text speak, LOL, whisky, mould, fake tan, fat people, golf, christmas parties, management speak, Oxford Street, the overuse of 'like' in conversation, carp, badly spelled and badly thought out children's names, tampon adverts, spiders, body odour, poor grammar, inaccurate memories, the intrusion of cctv into daily life, mopeds, minicab drivers, reality tv, conniving government officials, graffiti, joggers, tattoos in gothic fonts, rats, vandalism, Asda, leather trousers, jet skis, Anne Robinson, cruelty to animals, pop music, queueing, Radio 1, Radio 2, speech impediments, 'wacky' people, gravel, Marmite and all religion.
That feels better...