Archive | March, 2009

Masquerading Mayonnaise

31 Mar
Real Mayonnaise

Real Mayonnaise

Real Mayonnaise – Real Mayonnaise.

My only thought worth publishing or writing about recently has happened today. I was in the kitchen wondering what to eat. Looking at Asda own brand mayonnaise and realising I have never seen mayonnaise that does not have somewhere. A label stating “Real Mayonnaise”. Now it got me to thinking. When have I ever not had “Real Mayonnaise”

What constitutes, mayonnaise. What in essence could something be that is masquerading mayonnaise and not real mayonnaise.

I am confused about my food.



27 Mar

Today I was:

Hungry for Houmous, an alliteration of almost asymetrical lyrical lies.

The word’s above don’t make sense, hense forth tomorrow I shall shower in a sea of shallow scallops.

So, Jade Goody is Dead.

25 Mar

I’m probably going to be really disrespectful in this post so look away now if you have a sensitive stomach, heart or mind.

Now that the disclaimer is out of the way let’s revisit my journey to and from work these last couple of days. Let’s paraphrase the news and overal lets hear the pub gossip – again and again. What do I hear and see but….

Imagine sitting on a train and looking up, looking left, looking right. All you see is Crazy frog’s sister. Much like Crazy frog I can’t wait for this craze to die out.  I know she died of Cancer and everything, I feel a passing sorrow for her and her family – Like I do for anyone I don’t feel a direct connection too. But to treat her like a heroin poignantly reminds me of the total ignorance of this country. The slavery and dependance on the media. In the truth of it a gobby little cow who managed to make money for being a gobby little cow. Suckling on the teat of sympathy and ignorance that has made this country great. I mean wow – a role model to look up to.

“Oh she’s so much like Diana” – Really? Our royal family have gone down the pan.

“She’s done a lot of good for people” – What?
Anyway – like an annoying ringtone I wish this annoying Crazy Jade fad would fade into obscurity like she should of done the first time the nation saw her on TV

The first and the last resort

14 Mar

Men rebel. That much is true and obvious. But what is the last resort? What is the first?

With old age all of our dignity and our rights slowly get taken away or lost until we have near nothing left.

When first born we have to learn our rights, reponsibillities and ultimately our limits.

I think that during both of these times and indeed through our whole life just one small and seemingly minute option to rebel against all forms of tirany and oppression. That is:

To miss. Young boys do it clearly on purpose – the toilet bowl is larger than their head and yet they still manage to spray urine all up the wall or over the floor.

Prisoners do it – when they have no rights and everything they do is monitored an judged. Excrement up the wall and pee in the corner.

Men in their prime. 30 – 45 reaching a peek in their career. Imagine them having a really bad meeting with the boss. I can imagine the need to pee in his plant pot or all over his chair. It’s almost animal.

Old infirm men, living in a home. Well it may be accidental and shakes because of the arthritis but after so many years of being able to pee standing up I think they will continue to do so. Even if they constantly miss. Because let’s face it – it’s the last vestige of rebellion. To be able to say screw you I’m going to pee on the floor. Standing up.

I might of taken the random thought too far, taken a theory out of context but maybe the animal inside us will always mark our territory.

I might suggest this to some waring factions in the middle east. Why don’t you all just pee on the land that’s yours and stop arguing. Go back to basics. Anyway, I’m off to the bathroom.

Comment copy

9 Mar

Sometimes my best writing is in my comments to other people

I know for a fact that whenever I’m not in London I want to be back there. I have a cankering for my own bed – my own place. Theres always a certain smell, a feel, an emotion about a city that you wear like a cloak.

I don’t think we ever give up our security blankets as children. I think we just transform our world into one. Wrapping up against the cold night. Ahhh – The city is a mistress, warm in her bossoms.

The weekend

9 Mar

The weekend is over and it has been a long and exciting – interesting time. I had Thursday and Friday off of work so it was very nice to have a break.

I didn’t mention in my previous post but I passed my driving test on Thursday (Finally) a huge relief and a huge pressure from my shoulders. It means I can now legally drive in Aus if I want to 😀 – Yipppeeeeee!!!!

I am slightly saddened by this thought now. I don’t like to say goodbye and I know now that it is likely to be even harder. I have a new friend 😀 and I realise now that all the months of silent brooding and solitude have done me the world of good. I am no longer feeling scared, possessive or paranoid. I know now that it’s easiest to be honest – jealousy can be a good thing and being open and frank if your upset or happy must be the right thing. I have learnt not to try to be someone else and to not lose myself into ideals, fantasies and dreams.

So after Thursdays success I was really looking forward to Friday – I went out for drinks with some old colleagues and had a wicked evening – nice and relaxed and generally good fun, meeting up in the unlikeliest of places with G and walking along the Beach of the Thames drawing more pictures until we reached a pub that seemed a good place to stop. That evening progressed until I ended up back at mine – feeling slightly drunk and crashing out around midnight. Knowing I had work in the morning my body kept shouting at me until finally, 2 am I woke up, stumbled to the kitchen and drained a pint of water before falling back to sleep.

Saturday was another interesting, strange day – It started off with me putting on a tie – An unusual occurrence at the best of times and going off to be an RA at one of our work branches – this is a new job that I’m doing on the odd Saturday. I need the money and the experience of temp-in and so there I was – thrown in at the deep end and panicking because nothing was working and I had had no real training. But no worries because I soon got the hang of everything and after some stressed out freaking phone calls I managed find my feet and the day went swimmingly – I felt in my element and honestly really enjoyed most of the day – except the monotony of sitting still – waiting and watching for patients. Hoping that the gentleman coming up the stairs was not a patient because your doctor already has 3 of them waiting. Fun though.

Saturday evening was nice as well. Pizza, wine and movies. – Met a new friend by the name of Nelson



Who we took for a walk and silly fun on Sunday to see some of his friends in Trafalgar square.

Overall, things are looking up and it was nice to have a break. For once my Blog posts doesn’t seem to have any undertones of thoughtfulness or sadness or anything negative. It’s a post that says I had a nice weekend with a girl and a stuffed pigeon.

The man who can’t be moved

7 Mar
The man who cant be moved

The man who cant be moved

The irony of this moment may not be obvious at first glance. Today feels like the first time in ages that I have spent doing my thing, on my own. Just mellow enjoying the outside. A little interaction. Sun shining and wind blowing through my hair, giving myself a chance to breathe with no worries or fears.Time to think about the future and to consider things and the people that are important to me.I walked along the Thames, the beaches, swept clear by the tide. Sand laid high and flat. An artists dream. An opportunity to express.I spent the time with a stick on the riverbank drawing silly pictures that made me smile. I met up with some people I haven’t seen in ages and realised a sad, a depressing and brutally honest fact. These people I have known for a relatively short period of time have made more of an effort to spend time with me before I leave than those I once considered closest to me. Alas. People and things change.Today I had a chance to laugh at humanity, opportunity and instinct.

Being washed away

Being washed away

Today I drew a picture in the sand. A man holding a picture of a girl. Saying “If you see this girl can you tell her where I am” the words slightly offset spelling out “and one day your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I can be?” – It was the man who can’t be moved. To make me smile the surf slowly erasing my hard work. Eventually the man who can’t be moved. Well, he will be moved. Erased

I looked down at the scene, smiling at the irony, watching people take pictures of my drawing and wondering to myself if really, maybe, for a moment. The man who can’t be moved. Forever frozen in a picture and a memory, surf or no surf, forever.