Every image has a story
Reaching out, pulling, pushing, driving, seeking. The tendrils of emotion writhing and squirming in patterns balanced by their opposition. Cradled, guided, caressed and carried toward their goal. But question the goal you must and feel the movement of the current and see where it may end.
Feeling strength and weakness in all that stretch, shrink, collide and separate, that burn and calm the racing of the heart.
I tried to catch running water but all I got was this.
Bark, bitch, boss, ball, bend between rydem.
Still, stand, sting, style, stow away heaven
Cling, claim, court, catch, came believe a friend
Fame, foot, fate, face, full nature is d’same
Run away with all thoughts alive, repeat and fail again
Thought find nothing high, nothing to explain
Now go, go surprise yourself full force wit and will.
And stand beneath the tree and claim your blessing to nature’s thrill.
I have thoughts of things that I would like to do, the thoughts make my body feel a certain way a physical reaction to the imaginary scene.
Then sometimes I live out those experiences and try and capture the moment, either with a photograph or with a print upon my mind.
How many times does the body feel the same in the moment of the experience in comparison to the dream? I am not sure it is ever the same.
But after when I look back, the experience and body’s reaction seem to fit back into the dream. The story you tell about the experience is explained with words you learnt to think before you actually lived out the thing.
But how did the body really feel? how was it in the now? how did you feel with the fire upon your face, to look at the stars and let the mind race. To be lost among your thoughts, to drift and die and conclude naught. Just sit and feel and lie awake to let nature consume, devour, sedate.
In front of me I have three glasses, one full of beer, the middle one empty and the third full of water.
Let’s take the beer to start with. I like to think of beer as a representation of the essence of the experience. It represents the bodies physiological response to the moment you enjoy and that moment can be anything, sex, laughter, sport, fear, enlightenment. Whatever, whatever moment that makes your body shake, form goose bumps, chicken skin, arousal, sweat. Anything that makes the heart beat faster.
The empty glass, that’s you and for the moment that’s empty.
And the third glass, well that’s water, that’s comfort that’s the easy path those are things that make your life easier, that’s things that help you pass difficult problems. That’s the internet, that’s a hover, those are things that ease the arousal, slow the heart beat.
We pour a little beer in the empty glass, it feels good, if you haven’t had it in a while it’s even better, we pour a little more in, but then we are shaky the body overloads, so we add water, we balance the beer.
But then we start to learn, there are tricks to get more beer with out the fear, there are ways to get more beer inside without the overload, so we fill up we add the water, the clip stick the panic draw, the ai, the insurance, the Burberry wallet. We now have all the ways to cope with more beer, but then we take a sip and we realise we are just drinking water, our beer has been diluted.
Goose bumps come from feeling, whatever thought inspires those bumps has to have an element of jeopardy it has to be beer and the more we learn to use water to fill up on beer the more we forget the taste.
I always thought I knew myself and I understood what I thought was a way. Not necessarily the right way… but a way a could live with. A path that I could connect and commit to.
But she had a way that made me question my thoughts. There were times when she would call me out on what I was thinking, but I was never sure I was thinking it until she said it. Or was I? To be honest I think i was thinking of her reaction to what I know she was going to think, maybe making her think I was thinking the thing she didn’t want me to think. Ha! That’s a lot of thinking.
It’s like an advert for something on your social media platforms that appears and you are sure you only thought about it. Never spoke the words, never wrote the words, but there it was the spider ready to take your money… or your mind.
I understand that every ‘relationship’ changes you, you mould, your eyes see new perspective. But when you lose yourself. That can’t be right. Surely the words the thoughts should make you feel trapped.
After you see the cat with the third eye you know that life is going to be a little different, how you are probably never sure, but for certain there will be a change.
It’s difficult to work out how much to take from the things you have seen, how much the clues from mother nature are of value to your choices, but there has to be something in it. The energy you take from pacha-mamma must affect you in some way, like the sun for plants, for every action there is a re-action, all the cliches.
Difficult to say, but the cat was beautiful that’s for sure and there seemed to be a clarity to the shapes and colours with current thoughts. I suppose you take a little of this and a little of that and hope you have the right balance.
Lights, give the people what they want, give them everything, let them take it all.
‘Pame ligo’ they screamed
It’s yours the earth and you are not here for long, so take and keep taking, the quicker you take the better…
‘Well better for us’ they laughed, and the station kicked into overdrive. The next years P&L account would look even healthier than the last.
It was hard to describe, it spread fast, captured the attention, but still maintained its secrets. Perhaps people in love should follow its example, show everything, but hide something.
Anyway it was effective and after several years it had a strangle hold on the people’s lives. The population needed the blossom to survive, petals provided protection from the sun, pollen the support for the immune system and the nuts, nourishment for life. It hadn’t taken long for all the farmers to dig up their fields and plant the blossom once its value had been proved and it meant that the landscape was now, well it was pink.
The landscape looked amazing, beautiful, a sea of pink, but people did not realise that the plants that grew were sucking the life from the earth. The secret to the humans survival was actually what would kill them in the end. I guess that is the danger of beauty.
‘Sorry mate. It’s a nightmare, there are so many conversations going on at once, I don’t know who to answer.’
‘I didn’t have one conversation’
‘Yes we did, we talked about Muji’
‘You talked about Muji’
Silence… John sat back in his seat and drank his coffee, his mind was a blur with questions and answers, for jobs he had to do that day, for people he had to see and for Mary, he had to spend some time with her. But he knew those things should wait, he needed to speak honestly with Chris, he knew he was unhappy and he wanted to listen to him, but then he had to go and help Rebecca.
‘What you gonna do for Christmas?’
There was a long pause as Chris stared out of the window toward the sea. ‘Duno, go to Turkey?’ He said asking the question to himself.
‘Or stay here?’ John encouraged.
‘Hmmmm…’
Chris picked up his empty glass and walked toward the bar. As he did Elizabeth burst through the door.
‘John, hey mate, how’s it going?’
‘Yeeees, how the fuck are you?’ John shrieked standing from his seat.
Elizabeth slalomed through the tables and jumped up into John’s arms, they held each other smiling.
‘I missed you’
‘Yea me too’
‘We need to…’ Elizabeth burst into a long monologue about the potential theatre ideas she and John had been discussing over the last three months, John listened and in the background Chis slipped away. He attempted a goodbye, but it was too late Elizabeth had all of John’s attention.
Chris walked toward the beach, along the promenade, his mind empty, not angry, not sad, just empty. The path was deserted, old, abandoned and in need of a lick of paint. His eyes jumped from one closed building to the next. Bored, the grey on grey reminded him of his own thoughts. He sighed to himself desperate for some inspiration, but kinda happy there wasn’t anything there. He kept walking until he was far enough away from the hubbub of the cafe and sat down next to kiosk.
Life From the Dirt 