Friday, June 6, 2014

Say yes ...

I'll get into this soon. For now just absorb.


Monday, November 18, 2013

Aniseed is definitely not my favorite thing in the world.

Aniseed is definitely not my favorite thing in the world, however this weekend it was forced upon me as a remedy for stomach turning. Much needed these days. That's where the negativity stops however. Aniseed, it turns out, rocks.

Still, the smell can be slightly overpowering to say the least, especially first thing in the morning, and then the taste of course. I know this sounds silly but wasn't there a really obvious thing we used to eat as kids that was basically aniseed flavored? I can't remember for the life of me what it is. Is it licorice? I say this because I really hate licorice, and I'm putting two and two together.

Ah, wouldn't life be great if subjects like this were the sole extent of our worries?

Well, today is clearly one of the great days because that's all I am worrying about, and the stomach turning has been cured. Selah.

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Saturday, November 16, 2013

Morning Glory

I just got out of bed on the wrong side, literally. This caused the bed to tip, because the legs on that side are shorter than the legs on the correct side. The tipping motion then reminded me of a day I got drunk in a dingy.

What nonsense. Anyway, next up, an early morning scan of the online news made my blood boil and my head itchy. Not the headlines or any of the articles, but the comments below them.

I have a deep hate of the comments sections of news websites, or newspaper's websites. Just do away with them please! I'm reading your article because I want your opinion and I'm big enough to decide if you are right, wrong or stupid. I don't need to read 548 comments below the article with people hurling insults at each other and I definitely, definitely do NOT want to read the word "methinks" ever. It'll be there. Especially on The Guardian website. In the first 25 comments someone will have written some excruciating retort that starts off "methinks you should consider ..." and then some pointless drivel that is wrong.

In fact, this isn't actually such a bad thing on reflection. This is because the use of the word "methinks" - outside of Shakespeare - is an essential tool in deciphering the age-old "are they one of us, or one of them?" conundrum. The "them" in this case are of course "assholes" ... "total assholes." Just like e-cigarettes. I can't get my head around that at all.

I'm going to stop now because this is just a morning rant and nothing else.

Things can only improve.

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Friday, November 15, 2013

Nothing good about this

I'm not even sure I should be posting about this, but isn't this an outlet? And I need to get some things straightened out in my head.

Tuesday was going pretty good as a bunch of exciting and creative plans were finally falling into place (including getting this particular blog off the ground), I'd won an argument with someone who perpetually irritates me and then I'd been doing some work with friends at night, work which we wrapped up around ten to midnight, I think. A friend and I headed down into Jussieu Metro station just before midnight I guess, down to the platform for the line 7 train heading north. There were 2 minutes to go until the train arrived, according to the display above the platform. Everything that follows happened in the space of one second, I'm guessing. It all happened faster than my mind could record it, for sure.

As the arrival time on the display turned to the flashing "00" and the noise of the approaching train in the tunnel started to build, there was a noise, something, someone shouting or screaming and I turned my head to look whilst still in mid conversation with my friend. At the tunnel entrance there was someone on the track. Initially when I looked they were bent over and starting to stand up. I assumed, in that split second, that they had dropped something onto the track and were trying to retrieve it, even though that made no sense. The person, I'm sure it was a man, then stood straight up and faced into the station, standing in the middle of the track, his back to the approaching train. Just stood there, looking straight ahead, arms by his side. Then the train hit him at almost full speed, right in front of us.

It transpires that this man had jumped down onto the track when the arrival time changed to "00", and the moment I turned round he was steadying himself after the jump.

After the impact, or split second before I suppose, the driver slammed the brakes hard bringing the train to a screaming halt with only one and a half carriages inside the station. The passengers stared out at us in dumb confusion. The driver ran from the train to the emergency phone on the platform. Then I looked around at my fellow witnesses on the platform. People were crying and screaming. A girl who had been on her own had her hands over her face and looked as if she was about to collapse. Three Americans nearby were holding each other, one of the woman was screaming. I turned to my friend. Her face was white, hands over her mouth, eyes huge. I remember wondering what my face must look like. The driver returned, shouting at us all to please stay there until the police arrived. I found myself walking away from everyone towards the train, walking the length of the carriages towards the tunnel mouth trying to see under the train. I felt frustrated and panicky as I needed to know if the person had survived, but it was impossible to see. The gap between the train and the platform is so small.

Two days later and I can't tell you how glad I am that the gap is so small. The whole event is replaying in my head on a constant loop. All of it. The noise. The sight of it.

Yesterday I sat here at my desk scouring the internet for answers of some kind. I found this : on average, over a year, one person every two days commits suicide on the Paris Metro. People who witness these events often have the same reaction as me, the sudden need to be around a lot of people, bad sleep, fear.
Apparently most people who decide to jump down onto the tracks have spoken to or tried to speak to someone in the station before they do it - I've since spent a great deal of time wondering what could be done to help people before they get to that point. Am I going to hang around the end of the platforms from now on, waiting for the next poor soul to approach me? Statistically speaking I am likely to witness something like this again, so can I prevent it happening the next time?

I've been scared of the dark since it happened. I can't explain that.

As I said, I don't know if I should even post this, so here it is, typed in one go, no editing, no labels, no pictures, no links from dumb sites, just thoughts. I really hope the feeling has subsided a little tomorrow. This all sounds very selfish. 

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Exhausting Complexities of Want.

Moments later the joke was firmly on me as my mind and body finally relaxed enough to let the tricky questions pour in. I felt transcendent enough to appraise my own faux-ignorant mess from above, and chose to fight those questions back with excuses. Listless still, however, I could eventually do nothing but smile at my amateur interpretation of human nature at its lowest - my own personal stab at selfish want.

As she dreamily tried to tease me back towards the light it came to me that my conscious neglect and subconscious desires had finally agreed to disagree, and in a slip-speed moment I made the decision to turn my back on her, as cold hearted as it was miss-timed. 

We lay against each other, both emotionally and territorially opposed, and as I felt, too late, that inevitable and inviting chill slide over me I turned my eyes towards the floor and tried to calculate the effort it would take to stretch down and grasp my discarded crimson sheet, that lay, as she now surely would, just out of my reach.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

I Am The Table!!

I've been working my way through a jar of organic, instant decaf this last week as a bit of an amateur experimental examination into what the hell is wrong with some people! Just how are they so calm and slow, especially in crowded metro stations when all I want to do is get past all these sedate, meandering weirdos at maximum speed using lightning reflexes to weave and duck?? Argh don't get me started. 

Ah well in fact I'm not even going to start, which is unusual right? It's the decaf kicking in, or rather, it's the decaf sucking the life out of me. I'm plodding along with a smile on my face instead of that determined grimace I normally sport at peak times, which could be a good thing depending on your point of view...

My point if view is there just isn't enough time for this kind of pleasantness right now, not in 2013, so next week I'm back on the real shit. And vodka again too possibly - been a while.

•   •  •

Monday, June 3, 2013

Forcibly Ejected


Yep, I got thrown out of a department store today for trying to buy a large black bag with a fake banknote. Actually, I was taken away in a truck, then dragged into a small brick outhouse where a small group of balding, security fuckwits tried to scare me into telling them where the rest of the fake bills are stashed, which I didn't expect to hear. There was a copy of Guantanamo Bay for Dummies on the desk I noticed. 


Later on I accidentally put the following image in E's head : being groped by a five-foot Mr Potato Head. I can't remember how it started but the result was she spent the evening squirming and occasionally murmuring the words "no" and "vegetable". I say "accidentally" but obviously it was deliberate ... feeling mean right now.

•.  •.  •

Monday, May 27, 2013

Test results ...

I have just this minute had it confirmed to me by a qualified medical person that my body clock is running 5 hours behind everyone else's. This is a massive relief, in a way, and has lifted a whole heap of pressure from my currently naked frame. Now the only task that remains for me to complete this morning is to inform those close to me of my new status, which shouldn't take too long - after which I'm going steal a moped, zoom back to my place and leap straight into bed - oh yes!

I laughed out loud at that piece of news, but not as loudly as I did when I read an article in the Herald Tribune yesterday; someone with limited ideas submitted a load of bullshit provided by "experts" who would have you believe caffeine is bad for you...

Experts! Give me a break, eh? Ok see you in 5 hours...

* * *

Monday, April 15, 2013

3.06 a.m.

It's that thing when you slide back into the room hoping no one noticed how long you had been in the bathroom, and your right leg is completely DEAD so you walk so slowly, admiring fucking everything in detail, nodding like a Pope, praying you don't collapse in a heap, destroying your fibula and varnishing the leg of the antique mantelpiece with your gelled head of hair.

"Where have you been?"

"Outside ... needed some AIR!"

"I missed you, and I don't even really like you - that's how long you were..."

"Can you, perhaps, keep it down? Everyone is staring."

"PSSSSSSST!" It was Hutch. "Jonas come next door! We have unlimited supplies of gin and a German globe for light!"

"Hutch I'll be with you in a sec ... right leg is ... deader than HELL!"

"Right-o, I'll save you a space under Tasmania!"

E continued,"what were you doing J? You were gone for an age. I had to make excuses, lies and tales of nonsense. Like you on a daily basis."

"I've discovered my 'patoullie' E," I tell her. "And it turns out it's all mine!"

She scoffs and turns back to our hosts. I grit my teeth and drag my leg through to the globe room.

* * *

Sunday, June 10, 2012


I'm not quite sure who I am right now. Seriously. I'm slightly slouched on a stool (or a tall chair, I can't remember what it looked liked before I slumped onto it) looking down at my shoes, my throat feels rough and hard. My lower jaw has extra weight and my voice, I only just discovered, sounds dark and detached. I'm blanking those I care about and shooting nonsense with someone I just met and instantly disliked. I may even have pulled my hood up - I feel blinkered by something.

The guy I only just met believes my subconscious is experimenting with my physical self, forcing me to hide under another skin but I'm not into his talk one little bit. I shout back at him that I hold that huge, black balloon in the sky responsible but he is just shaking his head and rolling his eyes while I point wildly at the ceiling.

Tomorrow I must try to make amends.

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