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-- Post From My iPhone

Ok so can I post here

Jeezo.


-- Post From My iPhone

Slightly jet lagged

It's 03:47. A time I don't usually see. New York is buzzing with life and energy and at the moment I'm slightly quivering with fear and anticipation. I've been out of the big city for too long. Central park was full of contrasts - horse drawn carraiges, bike rick-shaws and big yellow taxis, a homeless hippy woman with a shopping trolly and a cat with a pink jacket. Joggers, skaters and cyclists wizz through the honk of horse and human urine while the sun shines and the air plops the odd large drop of threatening tropical rain. I loved it.

Traveller's rubbish

It is, without doubt, a difficult one. Travellers and their rubbish. The shit they leave behind. I want to point out now that I love travellers. I love rubbish. And I love traveller's rubbish.



It's a delicate operation. For if you say "look at this rubbish they left behind" people will accuse you of being racist. Or being anti-traveller. Or Gypsy hating. And you can't charge me with any of those crimes.
I'm an expert on Gypsy rubbish. They always leave behind the following:
1) empty gas cannisters.
2) single, unmatched shoes.
3) a burnt out car seat.
4) a childrens toy.
5) a car battery
6) a shit load of hatred and predjudice.



And so what if they leave some rubbish behind. If you look around the areas they stay they are quite often industrial and there is plenty of other rubbish around that somehow people just ignore.
Travellers are the original recyclers. They're green as hell. The whole life style is one of low impact. Low consumption. Low resources. Resource light.




On the other hand a lot of people from the liberal brigade will say that Travellers don't leave any rubbish. While this is clearly not true. It reminds me a little bit of how maoists and stalanists see no wrong.
No negative here even despite all the evidence.




I guess this is to compensate for all the normal anti-traveller feeling.
In practical terms, where are they going to put it? They don't have a bin collection. I'm always surprised that some compromise can't be reached. I mean how difficult would it be to put a skip there?




When Travellers move they are hounded and viliefied but when they try to settle anywhere people sneer that they are no longer 'Travellers'. For the best part of 40 years they have been told to buy their own land but as soon as they do they get refused planning permission. So they come together anyway. Buy greenbelt land and move on overnight. And that my friends is that.
-- Post From My iPhone

App addiction

Here we go again.



-- Post From My iPhone

It all kicks off here

There is a warm glow flooding my body. Syrupy. Maple, of course. There is no better feeling. The whole thing stretches ahead of me. The whole damn thing. Nipped into the station pub to have my compulsory start of holiday glass of the Stella Artiois. There is 2 whole weeks ahead of me. Don't care what happens. School is out and that's all that matters.

Obsessive compulsive cogs click and we sync with the universe

It creeps up on you slowly. It's not just disconnection anxiety. When you can't check your Facebook status. When you can't see what your 'friends' are tweeting. It's the concept of being disconected. No signal. Phone not working. Forgotten phone, left at home. It's about being out of sync. I don't really need to have my work calendar synced with my phone. Or my to do list. Or all the podcasts that I subscribe to but never listen to. And yet when it's all over, when it says you can now disconnect (no no I never want to be diconnected) the sync was sucessful or whatever it says it feels like the world has steadied itself like the platform in monkey ball and everything is going to be all right.

Journey

So up at 5.10 just about time to bundle my thoughts together and head for the airport. Fly stansted.

Didn't post this. Didn't finish it. I'm a starter but not a great finisher.

The tattie bogles

She was mighty suspicious of mr. Football head.

Pet names I call my dog

Dizzy Rascal is her 'proper' name. But I also call her:
Moomin
Stinker
Pooper
Bogle
Sweetheart
Bubba
Missy moo moo

I also call my wife some of these names as well.

I hate umbrellas

The way was crowded with scurrying commuters, all dressed drably in
blacks and grays and reflected damply in the slick, wet pavement. It's
busy, you know, as only Edinburgh festival time can be. There's people
waiting for the bus (not causing no fuss) and they are all over the
path. Suddenly like splashes on a toilet seat when you walk into a
cubicle, really needing to go, and this is the only one free. You can
feel the clock ticking. Your train pulling out the station. You're
waiting patiently. Grinding your teeth. When here comes a splash of
colour. Jaunty greens and yellows. And just for a moment you believe
they are going to get out of the way. This garden furniture carrying
buffoon. Their huge canopy catching in the wind as they grip it's
handle with two hands ploughing onwards like captain oats towards the
south pole. And you stand defiant. Surely they'll realize. Put down
the bloody brolly. Step aside. But no. The spokes are suddenly in your
face. You've lost an eye. It's there on the floor, in the gutter, like
some kids marble. A scream bubbles from your incredulous lips. As the
umbrella wielding serial killer maniac inantvertantly takes the face
off the next victim.

Sent from my iPhone

Whoops I did it again

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and think oh no what did I post
last night? What did I tweet? The dancing on the table with my
trousers round my ankles just suddenly went global. And no one, but no
one wants to see my fat gut wobbling in their face. All broken veins
and white spotty marbled skin.

Sent from my iPhone

I love my puppy

I know we shouldn't but we let dizzy up in the morning, on the bed. Wrapped in a blanket at the bottom of the bed she slowly and stealthily works her way up until she is level with us on the pillow. In this way we get to sleep on as long as we like. Now some books say this is bad as dogs are pack animals and if you let them do this they will try to dominate you. Well she is a fiesty terrier. And I think what ever we did she would try and dominate us! She's pretty good though. Does sit, stay, down and in your bed. Oh and come as well but how effective this is depends on how distracted she is. She's a funny wee thing.

Toilet doors

Err like what is it with men and toilet doors huh?

Winter

Been a great winter so far. If it's got to be cold let's have it really cold. Beautiful thick frost up near Inverness for days. But why won't we be snowed in? Could do with another day off work!

Surviving work

First week back really not too bad so far. Mornings not too horrible. No feelings of sickness with fear and anxiety. Stress levels fine. Still if I win the lottery ok Saturday I won't be in work on Monday morning. Growing a beard at the moment. You know, just for comic effect.

No cracks

Well I didn't crack last night. I'm trying to update my blog daily this year for no other reason than as a cathartic process to clear my head. Oh and to get back into writing again. I'm so lazy in so many different ways. It's my tribute to the spirit of l'art brut. I'm going to write but I'm expecting no one to read it.

Bleak wasteground

My mind at the momnent is a bleak waste ground. Reeling at my first day back at work for two weeks. I need a drink but drank too much at new year so need to punish myself for some unspecified length of time until the scarey blackout fades away into the cold mists of time. And then it can be business as usual. Although I'm hoping for at least a smidgeon of self control and decorum. Ha! Will probably crack tonight...