Ewe R Spaced Out

You need to read a litte bit of mint sauce to understand what it feels like to be a 17 year old and spaced out, to ride everywhere by bike cause really you havent got yourself together enough to earn anything decent. read about the female incarnation of Summer, the imps under logs , and death the ever present fear, then imagine me cycling as fast as i can to college because im late for a lecture, earphones on, dodgying traffic, feeling safe in the side slip stream of a articulated lorry the same way clown fish take protection from a shark, getting close but not too close, while trying to keep all my vibes in balance so i wont crash

CUNT

I want, as a rule, to refrain from swearing in this blog. The idea was to challenge my volcabulary for a better expression. To challenge my writing ability to new heights.
However, I've got a dislike of perfection or anything prententious enough to attempt to emulate perfection. As as the blog was looking reasonably swear-word free I thought I'd write the word cunt slap bang in the middle of it.
So there you are


CUNT

Nerd Muscle

The nerd muscle can be found on in the area above the right eyebrow (see above). The relative size and strength of the nerd muscle corresponds directly with the will to 'geek off' in seclusion to the exception of lots more wholesome activites.
My nerd muscle is getting slack, I think its due to wholesome activities such as getting fit for 30, and refusal to eat any more Haribo. I've neglected reading about the latest hardware and software developments and have given only minimal time to cracking wireless encryption.
I havent read the latest RFC specifications, and horror of horrors I'm spending time with my girlfriend, my student copy of MATLAB remains in its box!. This all amounts to a rather slack nerd muscle with some wastage.
Fear not, this morning , (weird morning that it was) I felt for the first time since this blog started. The urge to wake up and program/read/hack I think my nerd muscle has been reactivated by a combination of sleep deprevation and excessive sunshine.

The cult of pie

At our company we've introduced team lunches every Friday.

I ordered pie 3 times in a row and this email began to be circulated amongst the developers.

I mean honestly!

(I think its quite funny)

In the beginning......

In the beginning there was dirt.
The dirt was the muck of the world and swirled and bubbled under the firmanent above. And thus it was called the great Glub.
Then She said
"Let there be nice things"
And henceforth sprang the cuddly , beamers and boppers, soothers and understanders. And She brought forth all the goodness locked inside the glub and smoothed thier corners and made nice the things which were a little bit soiled.
When she looked at what She had created she smiled, and said
"These shall be named PEOPLE"
But lo, the Great Glub became even glubbier and bubbled indignantly.
"Lady of the 8 heavens, what injustice is this that you take out of me the cuddly, soothing and downright chipper bits and leave me to stink in my stinkiness"
Seeing the filth of Glub left behind , She took pity and formed from that glubby Glub that which we call ugly, stupid and a tad dense.
"She said - Oh people of the glub, please understand there was not much left in the glub from which to form the wise and the chipper, the deft and the nimble, the quick and the brave.
But you shall be called the GREAT STUPID! And people will marvel and come from far and wide to me struck dumb by your great stupidity."
Then Keiron the Nosepicker stepped forth and spake:
"But lady we have no homes, where apon shall us, Sons of Glub reside to recieve such aclaim?"
She then pulled back the muck from thier beady eyes and smilled.
As they looked on the Sons of Glub saw rows and rows of glass fronted houses. Some said T-mobile, others Orange, others the Link.
"Behold, I give you residence in Mobile Phone Stores, Go Forth and spread your thickness and stupidity far and wide. Amaze people with your lack of knowledge of even the simplest things. Waste time, look dumbly at the people that enter your premises - GO NOW SONS OF GLUB AND FULFILL YOUR DESTINY"
and so it was
amen

My Mum crashed her car

my mum crashed her car, and as much as I should have been worried . There was a little smug part of me that was rather pleased. I remember feeling whats best described as a dark heat rise in my belly and spread itself along my chest.
That feeling was the 'Serves you right' feeling with a touch of 'I told you so'.
I knew I should be mature and show concern , and for everyone around me I did.
"God, I hope shes alright"
But Im going to admit , I took pleasure in it although I knew it was wrong - like peeing you're pants as a kid and enjoying the warmth. I did, and damit i enjoyed it.

Perhaps I knew that she wouldnt have been able to have a bad crash.
As it turned out she'd just backed into a wall when reversing out of her space.

(I need to keep telling myself that)

Back

I spent some time wondering if blogs were just an ego centric waste of time.
This kinda came up after a party I was at somewhere in courtfield gardens in london city. Some girl asked me what my vibe was and I told her to read my blog.
I thought about this later and I felt stupid. When I refer people to my writings instead of telling them face to face, something must be wrong. I could take this to the extreme and let the writings become my reason for everything, I could just document my whole life into this beast and no one will ever have to talk to me again.
"How are you doing Greg"
"Read my blog"
"er ... are you alright?"
"Read my blog"
"Greg?! Whats happening to you?!?"
"Read my ....."
etc
Is that the purpose? Well, no! Its just that there was so much to tell her, about the christians, my mum, tibet, bode, minty, energy , mum , dad.
Whats my vibe?
My vibe is a whole packet of jelly beans stuffed in your mouth at once.

Plato talked about human existence being like those stuck in a cave , [I've just realised how pretentious this sounds but please bear with me] that the human experience were mere shadows cast onto a wall and that people are unable to turn thier heads and see the truth.

THINK
Greg = Substance
Blog = Shadow

Breathe...
Relax


Repeat

She visits.....

Being perfect Elektra never had a harsh words to say, in fact she didnt say anything at all.
The transmutation of pure thought to speech is degrading. Communication with a being of perfection should be through telepathy or singing.
It occured to me that perhaps it may be possible to devise a language based purely on tone.
Elektra would be a siren.
I wrote a poem about it.
* * * * *
One day, after a particularly hot sunny day during the summer holidays, sleepy with the heat; I lay in on the sofa in the living room and quickly fell into a drowsy snooze.
Before I fell alseep I remember staring hazily at the sunlight filtering through the trees in the back garden; watching the dappled sunlight dancing on the wall.

The next thing I remember was being awake and not able to move, I saw colours swirling on the wall opposite the window, and for split second, in the distance, I thought I could hear the sweetest singing........

Elektra

When I was in college , I was a bit of a freak
(a close friend swears that the first day he met me I was eating pages out of the bible)
I used to wear a cossak hat, listen to hendrix, was born again christian - heavily influenced by the buddha of suburbia I was also heavily into moutain biking.
I hung out with a similar freak called Mark Telepnef.
He introduced me to weird world of biking spirituality , guru of which was minty
Mark believed that if you were speeding down a hill or around a blind corner, music blaring and everything feeling right in your mind and body, theres no need to stop.
Typical day: hang out at Marks house with his jumble of animals listening to music - then when it was late enough and the traffic started to die down. We'd don walkmans and go out riding dodging between traffic , hopping curbs, jumping lights until we got to a friends house, kebab shop - whatever - those were good times - and I was superfit!

After woeing to Mark on my singledom (ever tried to get a date as a born again, with a passion for computers and hendrix?),
Mark told me one day
"The perfect woman for you may be alive, or dead - she may have existed in another life or world - but she loves you with all her heart."
Hence I decided to love before love, to believe before I'd seen.
I decided to commit myself to that special someone who loved me with all her heart.
Problem was I didnt know who she was.
However , I what I did know was that her name would be Elektra.

How things work......

Its evident that my mum doesnt understand the world she lives in. That she was able to survive for so long points to something that im at odds to admit but at the same time cannot deny.
My mum exists in a world populated by signs and omens, she interprets a wink a gesture, or a tone of voice as having meaning where we (the laughably normal) have indifference.

She's needed to look at other ways of understanding the world, and to a greater or lesser extent shes been successful.

This really questions the nature of order.

[I hope this last sentence makes sense, I dont want to explain further]

Ah Patmore

Some random memories:
slamming off a skateboard on a concrete quaterpipe and hearing the sounds of my 'friends' literally cracking up (tyrone james and anthony alexander) I will never forget.
Deli getting two toddlers to fight by stirring trouble between them. We just sat around and laughed children can be so viscious.
Falling for a girl, that was also schizophrenic (she actually ended up in the same day centre as my mum)
sitting around smoking weed and hearing one boy begging his friends not to 'drum' his house while he was away on holiday.

Patmore

I never lived in Patmore , but i used to live around the corner near Battersea Park.
Growing up I remember the stairs that descended opposite the dogs home, to the notorious Patmore Estate. This is where all the badness went down - this is where kids went to smoke weed, have sex, or drum each others houses. Nothing good ever came out of patmore but lots of fun was had there.

So it was with slight nausia and nostalgia that I rolled into patmore estate, with crusty eyes and picki hair. (n.b. this probably helped maintain street cred for later).

The paranoid part of the term paranoid schizophrenia means that my mum doesnt trust anyone, let alone her long lost son. So it was that I got half the story, that she'd paid for the car and wanted me to move it to her house.
The car was a T-Reg, that made it over 20 years old, a complete rustbucket not worth 100 let alone 800.
After opening the car door - A west indian lady poked her head out of one of the myriad of windows
"She 'vent pay for the car ! What areya doing?"
After getting cussed and shouted at. I managed to get the number of her husband - who was dealing with the matter.
*ring*
"Who dis?"
"My mum bought a car from you?"
"Wha ya want"
"Listen, my mums paranoid schizophrenic, she cant drive, you cant sell it to her"
"Ahlright, Ok I'll come round tommorrow"
Deal done.
Apart from the fact that my mums now not speaking to me for taking away her car.
I drove home and went back to bed.

Sunday

After another late night I was woken by my brother. He tells me that my mums arrived for visiting, its 10.00am at the latest, I'm trying to hide my morning glory and wondering why on earth my mum always seems to turn up when i need to lie in.
My mums schizophrenic, the doctors officially prescribed her as paranoid schizophrenic. For the layman this means that she has a distorted idea of events and what is true.
Did I say distorted, the things that she believes are out of this world.
Take for instance the fact that she doesnt believe she has grey hair, or that she remembers a plane flight to nigeria, as climbing stairs into the clouds, or that she thinks that I have an evil twin; as an indication.
Todays story that needed my immediate attention was that she had seen a car with her name on it and bought it for £800 from a guy in the patmore estate.
To her credit there does exist a model from the car called a skoda Felicia, however she had taken it as a 'sign' that she should buy the car.
So it was after finding out that we'd run out of gas and thereby hotwater, that i had a cold wash, slipped on a top some jeans and a jacket, and began driving to the estate that I'd left so long ago.

How to become a bad mother

its easy

Women, universally inscrutable

wei says:
hi,dear
wei says:
are you busy?
Greg says:
no
Greg says:
how are you
wei says:
fine
wei says:
i'm in sichuan
wei says:

wei says:
maybe, i will have chance to tibat
Greg says:
wopw
Greg says:
wow
Greg says:
u must se lijian i think thats how its spelled
Greg says:
you went without me!
Greg says:
xichang
wei says:
haha
Greg says:
who are you with
wei says:
i'm not for trip, i'm on work
Greg says:
you MUST go to lhasa
Greg says:
oh i see
Greg says:
send me photos
Greg says:
PLEASE
wei says:
i hope, if i have chance
wei says:
of course, i will send you
Greg says:
thanks
Greg says:
I was thinking about weiwei today
wei says:
maybe, i will be in sichuan for a year
wei says:
for work
wei says:
why
Greg says:
i havent visited them for such a long time, i dont like to lose friends
like that
Greg says:
maybe i'll come and see you sichuan
wei says:
right
Greg says:
how is the food? strange ?
wei says:
hot, not strange
wei says:
if you have chance to China this year, i could go to lasha with you
Greg says:
Yibian wo yao kan weiwei danshi wo yao xue putonghua
Greg says:
Hao le!
wei says:
your chinese is better and better, dear
Greg says:
Xiexie ni , xianzai wo xue yi dian
wei says:
and, one supprise news, i split with my boyfriend
Greg says:
!!!
Greg says:
!
Greg says:
why was he cheating?
wei says:
no
Greg says:
why?
Greg says:
were you cheating?
Greg says:
lol
wei says:
no
Greg says:
joke
Greg says:
why
wei says:
no
wei says:
split
wei says:
so, i find a work in sichuan
wei says:

Greg says:
did you split because you find a job in sichuan? what are you doing in
sichuan?
wei says:
i mean a surprise new.
wei says:
news
wei says:
a spelling error
Greg says:

Greg says:
can you do me a favour
wei says:
because we finish the love between us, then i find a job working in
sichuan
wei says:
are you joking?
Greg says:
no , i want you to write chun shiao
Greg says:
I used to be able to remember it
Greg says:
that poem - chu chu wenti niao
Greg says:
I cant remember it - and i want to remember it always
wei says:
if you could come to china, i think maybe you could have chance
wei says:
yes, i remember also
Greg says:
tell me your address
wei says:
but, but...
Greg says:
and your phone number
wei says:
ok, dear, stop joking
Greg says:
im serious
wei says:
i don't want live in England with you
Greg says:
?