Long Day’s And Who Cares?

If only I could be bothered to tell you.

You’d wish I hadn’t.

Happy Tuesday


The Soliloquy of Indemnity

Is it bad I just sit and scour the user online tab to see if your name is present.  Even if I have nothing to say except the same.

Quantum locked in the in’s and outs.

Forgetting names but not dreams; you’ve grown bitter in them now.

With no plans, thoughts, nothing set in stone. I can only sit, wait and see what the new day brings. And I can only hope it’s a good one.

There were days you know when it was just paper, books, walks and talks and old stuff.

Now were connected, through chips and flicks, white and black, mini’s and customisation.


Have we lost or we gained. I can’t answer that. Do I even have the right to question.  I like both very much, they were just better with you. I live in a shadow, deep beneath the rock.

In the corner you’ve forgotten about.

In that space that’s not there.

Let’s see what he’ll do next ill say. Maybe this time it could be it.


Old people are forgotten, by many but few. But The young live forever.

As long as their stories are told.

What can you learn from a story? Many things, even just one, teach you how to be a hero, how to say no or give you a new voice to finally say bye.

There are many things we can learn. They’ll all be forgotten though, soon.

As one day you’ll be old, looking down at ageless faces who know it’s all glory, are set in their ways.

Have already made choices that have sealed their days.

And you’ll forget names, unless their important. You’ll probably forget them.  But not one like Jim.

But you’ll remember the faces. And you’ll remember the dreams.

Where have the days gone? And where have you been.


Be Here Now

Live in the day, learn from the past. Yesterday was a Sunday. They were most certainly/suggestively/some cases religiously not made for working. But to at least reflect. How we move each day living a life that makes us happy but emitting a persona of misery is something i’ll never understand. To be understood and to understand are great qualities we all strive for.

That there are a million different opportunities and the ones that make up our past are just flickers in the moment we no longer have control of. For what is it, are we meant to take from each encounter. When you look at someone what do you see?

Are we just suppose to be herds, on top of the food chain. Have we reached our maximum potential. Humans only being semi functional for a few thousand years in essence yearn for a higher purpose, and afterlife… In one form or another. A number of different religions lets not the count the ones that have become extinct over what, out few millennia, all push to a point where somewhere in history we turned and started believing in something. What was the moment?

I personally find myself leaving a whole year of questioning and falling behind and hope that upwards is really the only place left to go.

How are you suppose to stop those yearnings for things you no longer have. How some people move on and find things to replace what was once there, and others get stuck in-between is just another thing that gets lost in all the day to day. All I can urge you too do…is just be here now…

The Untitled Call

I sit. I wait in silence.

It takes an eternity but the tone finally resonates in my ears.  A blue cord accompanies a blue telephone. Resting in my hand firmly held against my head.

Ring Ring. Nothing. An Abyss of silence, black and all things associated with nothing.

Ring Ring.

I know somewhere else, in a corner of another room, set aside a table top surrounded by the air and décor of another life, and individuals taste, soul regurgitation; Sits another telephone, almost white stained by the defected cream only formed by the stale acrid nature of smoke, echoing an empty space.  I know you’re not there, you always answer by now, but still, it’s nice to know I’m there.

It’s 1946 and I don’t know what the future holds. I finally see the beauty in the dawn again. I finally don’t flinch with the change of the wind.  Just wanted to tell you that, and that it’s Christmas. You always love Christmas.

But you probably already know this. Ring Ring. The abyss feels like diving into ice cold River, I’m there and I’m here all at once.

You’re probably on your way over. You said you’d be here by 9. It’s 8.30. Maybe I just can’t stand to be away from you this long.

Why on earth would I buy a blue phone?

Let’s Get Down To Work

I’m in the insurance industry. When I say industry I mean industry. 


Coming from the Latin word industria, meaning “diligent activity directed to some purpose,” and its descendant, Old French industrie, with the senses “activity,” “ability,” and “a trade or occupation,” our word (first recorded in 1475) originally meant “skill,”


Above of which I 100% knew as fact.  Completely untrue. 


I work in an office, and I do stuff. , other prospects. I will not dwell, I have no bad word to say, insurance isn’t fair, but neither is money and the stuff it buys. 


I  speak to people all day five to six days a week, and the one thing I’ve definitely come to the conclusion of, is that even though someone up top believes in the core value. It gets diluted through the corporate others. They basically churn it around, mix it up and make it glittery who have to work it financially into a machine which grinds it down to us through payroll basically something to do all day, and  to get the work done. We get paid to turn up to work to help customers,but I get the impression,  even this isn’t financially do-able. 


I wake up every morning, sometimes have breakfast, sometimes take sandwich, get a bottle of water, or red bull depending on the mood. I walk through those revolving doors (we have revolving doors!) and literally get through my day. But I’m not the only one, every one else has their morning rituals, snooze or up, that moment when they first open the eyes and just for a second have that feeling. Before you remember all of the good and bad of life instantly and move to complete your day with all the things that make you… you.


We all make up that collective; and handle things differently. We definitely don’t have enough time to spend with our customers though. But then sometimes you just have that good day when restrictions just don’t matter, and you just chat. Help. Cause that’s what I like, that’s what’s fun. I’m sure the word help stands for…



      M  P

 H E L P

 E       E A

 L        A T

 P       S R

          E  I




And that’s what I liked about today. Officially open for business. I’m here to help.


The Day The World Never Ended

Well it’s been almost a  year since I’ve put word to paper, a year gone wasted, a year gone learned.  A year in reflection, a year that was.  2012.  The year the world didn’t end.

Loosing people in reflection effects all in many ways, but we have to keep moving.  I find myself working finally… But it’s time to create that dream job… and prove to someone i’m the only one who can do it.

Well the blog needs a bit of regenerating… So that needs thought.  But hope if you get round to reading this.  You enjoy.

To all a goodnight.

Out on the Blue



The fields of Africa are burning blue.  Glistening fields of glass and technology spread kilometres wide across the breadth of an otherwise scorched plain.  Caretakers insuring the safety and power of those still in need of it, a decade at a time, life structured around skills and monotonous motions that keep the globe turning.  Towards the western plain just beyond the valley of the shattered Ethiopian badlands at the end of the 17th cycle, George Harris climbs SOL2891.

Carelessly positioning himself over the edge of the mostly inaccessible right hand corner of the furthest Sol Panel, facing west, he could claim the best view; he was told by his father as he grew up looking out to the blue.  He was now Twenty, with all the possibilities in front of him, and he found himself with one of the most prestigious careers one could find these days, a techy, officially still known as technician, was something you could only be born into.  From a life time of study within an infrastructure cooled to such perfect climate, to the journey out to the fields, the beginning of the greatest challenge, but ten years were still to come.  The heat glistens off his dark skin and beads of sweat often fall to gravity, light on his feet and small enough to slip through the compression plate that kept the solar panel together he sits effortlessly on the edge retrieving a picture from his pocket. George had a father, mother and a younger sister who was presently holding her fingers in her ears with her tongue out as far as she could reach in the photo. It was a memory shot, a moving image, and he laughed as he had every time he caught Meren pulling her ridiculous pose.  He placed the photo back in his chest pocket close to his heart and carefully zipped it up, it would be ten years before his replacement would be sent for orientation, eleven before he would ever return to the city of glass he called home.

1948hrs exactly, and the sun seemed as would crash into the earth, for the next hour the panels would go into cool down procedure and George would get an hour to admire the spectacular view.  When on the surface, it’s easy to loose sight of the city, and when inside, impossible to understand the beauty, but from this angle, at this time, from the corner of SOL2891, the sun would reflect with the sand and the entire city of Arkansas can be seen, a spire of crystalline glass reaching out to the heavens surrounded by accompanying spires at multiple heights as if each grown from the ground desperate for star light. From the ground you would loose sight, but from here you could make out the neon lights of the habitation spire, the dark blue from the energy core spiralling up into the clouds, and the faint amber glow from the surfaces city deck.  It had taken 98 solar years to grow the structure and go live, the architect who designed the technology for such attempt long dead before George was even DNA and entrusted with the keys to an entire kingdom.

“All it takes is one stone to bring down a city of glass” tales of persecution would agree, George turned and looked down to see “Hook” his trainer.  He looked tired for 30, he was Caucasian, but 10 years in the sun had scarred him brown as anything, he had obviously stopped shaving because of the dry skin but other than his shabby appearance he looked in order.  He tied his cord up to his belt and made the climb up the pronged ladder.

“Why say that?” George asked curiously, he had never thought of it before, but was also silently kicking himself for never thinking it, it made sense in metaphorical terms

“Because… you never thought of it” he replied as he managed to squeeze through the same compression plate. “You’re Harris’s boy right?” he swung out his sweaty scared, dirt covered hands, George returned the gesture and they shared a shake of hands.

“George, you can call me George” he stated, taking back his palm which felt as it had been vice crushed

“Not many techies, now I guess, had to be Harris. Found the sweet spot I see, careful you don’t touch the black” they both turned to face the centre of the panel where a 2m by 2m black panel was attached and spoke at the same time

“Disintegration”, returning the glare Hook smiled showing his teeth

“Get on boy!” he jeered out, giving him a heavy smack on the back knocking him forwards.  “Yeah, I knew Harris, when?  How long now, I must have just turned ten, he taught us when returning. That your old man eh? Done his tour what thirty year ago?”

“Yeah, yeah… Got back, that day started a family with me mum…” George hesitated “You have any plans, I mean when you get home?”

“I don’t remember it… I mean I remember my parents yeah, vaguely remember my brother” grinning and laughing

“He was this chubby porker; Mum was OC so he enlisted in the Police, always was a mommy’s boy… You heard of an OC Hook?”

“Sorry… Place got bigger, right after you left there was the arrival of Europa…”

“You know that was expected when I was 15”

“…And the excavation takes up more resources than ever, the Industrialist took power 6 years ago and have been running things since”

Hook shook his head, laughing, staring at the city.  So close by sight, so far by foot inaccessible by buggy.  In a straight line, in the best of conditions, due to the terrain, a jaggered set of teeth, spread steep and wide within a valley, it would take weeks to traverse to the citadel a task never been succeeded by anyone, but luckily George arrived by pod, an hour flight, one which Hook would take home.

“Industrialists, I heard, on the wireless, yeah, they seem ok.  From what I hear they wanna get back out there in the globe…” he thrust his hands up into the air, representing a sign he repeated their slogan “New jobs! New chances! A new world… and maybe even back up their…” Hooks finger pointing up to the sky

“After the Titan incident? No man, don’t think so.” Turning passing the last of his H20 over “They’re big in the desert, you know the sand collectors, they say they found an ancient air vessel”

“Whaaa, no way, you see it?”

“Yeah, it was amazing, a one man craft, an Airship brought one back from the north, who know what else they left behind, what’s hidden underneath”

“That’s where the trouble started” Hook sighed.

“Yeah, they think” George tuned to Hook, in surprise he had a cool bottle of H20 in his hand waiting, he’d been alone for the last ten years ever since the last technician left to return to the citadel, George struggled to remember who but couldn’t.  He was sure he remembered when he was 11, the commotion at the city gates.  He wondered his own return a decade from now, after training a replacement himself and how the world would have changed then.  The daunting shadow of isolation enveloped him whilst Hook was telling him of what he knew, would he be this kind in a decade, I mean they had just met but George had found him entertaining, and more curiously so, how did he know of such things in the fields. The sun had set, and now like fireflies in the distance, the city darkened, the ever so faint amber lights glowing ever so dim with the occasional pod moving around the spires.

“C’mon kiddo, got a few hours to go before rack time yet”  Hook dropped, grabbing onto the edge and leveraging himself down to a pylon connected to the ladder leading to the ground beneath, George smiled, he supposed he had a lot to learn from the old timer.


By the time he made it down, Hook had made it 30 feet in front and he had to sprint to keep up, coming round the corner so quick he felt as though he could of broke an ankle stopping so quick, a Steele bunker stood in front of him, like something from a history book he took his first steps beyond the doors out of the heat.  The power generated had enough spare to produce a cool breeze that matched his memory of his home city, but was a memory more than welcome in such climate.  Hook who had already retrieved a new liquid of some sort was already flicking switches and hunting through a pile of wires.

“The wireless, don’t loose the wireless!!  The last bugger was cuckoo when I got here; this connects you to the world boy.”  Hook held up what appeared to resemble a battered grill with holes in, adjusting dials, sound came out though nothing but static.  “It’s the sound of the world my man, it auto tunes, sometimes you get static…” a melodic tune broke through the fuzz as the older man kicked about wires and knocked a panel over head.  George as if transfixed moved closer and closer

“What is it?” he asked, turning with a tear in his eye to Hook.  Hook smiled, placing his hands down by his side, and then crossing them with an even bigger smile.

“it’s the past George, radio waves, signals, boucin off the earth, into space and back down to us… can even pick up transmissions too!” he said with a jolt making some adjustments voices came through…

“Shhzzzz over…

…Yes Read You… Commence delivery, Require Removal. Over…shzzztttt

…Yes. Artefact removal confirmed…air….vessel….shhtzzz” the signal turned back into the static that greeted them.

Hook watched George come down from his high, he could see all the questions brimming in his mind, and he saw George for what he was, because he was the same. Young, but old at the same time, heavy responsibilities placed on a well educated head, twenty but fifty in his own right.

“Come, sit, drink, we have about twenty minutes left before we have to do our rounds” George looked around the bunker “Don’t worry, ill teach you how to use all this stuff. It’s yours now”


Recently edited….

If you want to read more… get in touch…  Hopefully we can get it to print.


The Strings Of Fate or Travelling thoughts

In Greek mythology, Theseus rescued himself out of the labyrinth of Minotaur by following a red thread, given to him by Ariadne.  I belive in fate, and I belive in the mythological belief that we are all connected, by the red string of fate.  We all meet for different reasons.

Some to share lessons with, some to learn how not to be, some to love and to treasure and to some to bring life… all for many reasons.

I haven’t written in a long time.  A betrayal to myself, and a let down to my aspirations, how did I get here?  Last rants surrounded the search for employment and “love in the time of cholera”.  The day job provides the funds necessary to live and survive to make it though the next days.  Pretty inanimate objects keep us still to the cause; keep us rooted in pretty things and soulless desires.  Well we all move on eventually.

I found employment, in a small town fish and chip shop, incapable of running itself and an incompetent Greek manager.  It provided funds; provided what was sought but not what was needed.

On returning to the empty bliss of unemployment, making a mad dash home for Christmas, I found myself literally stepping into myself again.  Seeking new ideology, seeking what some always seek, no more absolution then banging your head against the wall and hoping it would change color.  The world anew refreshes me.  Now into the void again, connected to you solely by a piece of string around my ankle… forever bending never breaking.  We all have to do something with our soul that matters and I won’t waste mine.  To those who have fallen, and those who sleep.   You will not be forgotten even in the darkest of moments.  We have a responsibility to each other… well that’s the way I see it.

It’s hard to believe that I beat 100,000 other sperm.


I’m all about clear and reasonable goals today.

There’s no point being constrained by the irrational thought of winning the lottery, stumbling upon some hidden treasure, become embroiled in some sort of conspiracy or even gaining employment on this lovely, lovely Sunday. Bear in mind it’s 3.33 and it’s an early day… I mean… When a kid’s three years old you think “yeah, cool, it’s three years old” but wait! Wait until it’s twenty two; god knows where and up to god’s know what, and then think… what if I have a daughter, as I once heard “every woman no matter how great, sexy, naughty or trampish… Is another mans daughter”

My top 10 reasonable goals of the day to avoid failure and succeed as follows…

1. Wake up – pretty self explanatory, but I’m talking wake up with the same drive I find myself battling going to sleep with….

2. Hand Wash an Item of clothing – good for the environment Something to do… Worst case scenario… I’ve cleaned something too much.

3. Make an effort to see a friend – ha! Not hard… I’ve already planned that one in advance. And they live a mile and half away which i’ll walk the distance

Which brings me to 4.

Take a walk 🙂

5. Write at least a thousand words – anything, a mixture of five 200 word stories (that would be cool!) but a thousand ‘a’s will suffice

6. Return to education – Not literally, but thinking of returning to university to study something worthwhile, beneficial and useful… So looking at applying Hmmm surf studies anyone…?

7. Eat something… Not anything… Food, substantial sustenance, fuel, pizza, or something good.

8. Do something Sunday related- I’m thinking roast dinner, if you can’t whip yourself a roast dinner but you can read this… Sh@t… Sorry

9. Generally be good, decent, and avoiding anyone with a shot gun… – highly unlikely I’ll bump into anyone with a shot gun but still…

10. Get some sleep… Like now

Ok… Sleep like now…. Now goddammit… Now… Now… This might take awhile….

Taihg “Daniel Lloyd”

At the end of 2005 I met Taihg, on the high street of Canterbury, I had just moved there and literally knew no one, but had always had a love, and had come from the music world, we instantly hit it off and within hours we laughing and chatting like we’d know each other all our lives, and I suppose that’s what he did.  I suddenly found myself socializing with Taihg on a daily basis, and met some truly awesome inspiring people along the way.  And when I say daily basis, I mean, every day within a few days, I had been invited into a much larger family and it was amazing, friends, friends and making friends.

Truly blessed musician and honest heart, Taihg stood up where every other person I have ever known has backed down, not afraid to speak his mind and not afraid to try to heal the problems through his music, whether he was aware of it or not I’m not sure.  All I know, Daniel Lloyd touched so many souls with his life.

Over the many years I’ve drifted through life, I’ve met some amazing people, some I’ve truly come to see as family, and as family we take so many things for granted.  As my girlfriend at the time stated when we left Canterbury “You’re not the same without Taihg”.  Geez… Wasn’t a bromance!

But true I never was the same, in life I always end up meeting people, I feel need some of “me” at the time, how …. Of me… but it’s true, there’s so much to connect with in life and its easy to fall out of touch.  But standing with Taihg on the streets of Canterbury… They were the best of days.

I left Canterbury on the end December 2006, The last night was spent singing and question and arguing over life and purpose and everything in-between and the next day our good-bye was funny, I needed to work, he need to sleep. So that was it.

“I’ll see you again”

2012 Daniel Lloyd gifted soul, musician, friend, father, brother and son, passed away.  Leaving behind empty spaces and cherished memories.  In times of grief all process things differently, my heart goes out to his family.  There’s so much I’m leaving out, he has a legacy that’s so huge, I already feel guilt that I can’t convey the life that he was.

And you may think why I am sharing this, of all things. I am, because over the last 5 years that soul went on to touch so many more.  Do so much more, write so much, sing so much.  A life not wasted is a life lived and if there is one thing I can ever and will say about Taihg is that he knew how to live.   We were all connected to you in such different ways, loved by so many, but I don’t think it needs to stop there.


You were brilliant and such an important person and stood out amongst the 7 billion more.  In time we will all be with you in whatever design you feel whether its heaven, a new dimension, or wonderland.

Only your words can heal the hole that has been left in the world, from you departing it.

Good bye my dearest friend


Fractally quantumed astro alchemist loving every minute…would like to sleep


Well 07/07 was the british 911,

never break us, you can send this whole country to heaven,

got innocents lying in the streets on London dying

But you forget the English have the heart of a lion,

Now we survived the blitz; despite this terrorist threat,

we’ll never back down no matter how bad it gets

But this great nation’s seemed to have lost its way,

Bull shit politics lead this country astray.

Because we don’t shrink from the evil we face, thinking we support you Blair, it’s a fucking disgrace.

You who brought terror to the streets of the capital,

Iraq, Afghanistan there’s too much to capital,

Blair you’re full of Christians in the belly of the beast, on your conscience rest the 57 deceased.

To busy changing oil and political ties,

you wash the blood from your hands with Londoners lives,

Now we don’t belive the lies; even through Londoners eyes,

We’ve woken a lion and it’s time to rise.

An Islamic terror doesnt even exist

cause if you’re a true muslim you could never be a terrorist.

Misguided fools scream the name of Allah conducted by evil members here and afar.

We claim we knew nothing as your form a defence

We knew London was the target, where the fuck was the intelligence.

Never never, you’ll never break us, never-never, you’ll never take us, never-never, never break our shit, only make us…

Now police got free rein to kill who they like, young arabs in the sniper sight, it’s silent night,

all over with the pull of the trigger,

more hate, more war now this shit’s getting bigger.

A terrorist is a small product promoting fear,

should fear the fucking network that’s putting them here.

Loud and clear someones got to be building the bombs

some one else chooses the target for maximum harm,

Its wrong.

And now it’s right; here in the streets

like in the middle east there can never be peace.

And all the foreign police helps London to burn, it’s too late we’ve passed the point of no return

I’m sick of seeing evil men preach their racism

see the hate in them affect the heart Were like state venom,

fearing ignorance corrupting your mind, committing crimes against man kind, gotta be blind

It’s a fucked up situation that were facing

Home grown suicide bombers blowing the place in

segregation amplifies degrees of separation, raise a foundation that these freedoms are faced, it all blows irrelevant, eloquence I interrupt this indicator speaking universal truths,

ignorant cats hate it, you have to find a balance between these civil liberties with big brother’s culture, bringing us to our knees

Never never, you’ll never break us, never never, you’ll never take us, never never, never break our shit, you’ll only make us…

Tales of Dublin City

Here I sat buzzing like bee,

Sucking her sweet called ecstasy,

Well you know these feelings what we needing

C’mon everybody start believing;

And then I met a boy, he came to me and said

Bruised and bleeding from his father’s hand.

Didn’t know what to do, but cleaned him up and then

Said, that I would, go kill his dad

The boy said NO and kept at me

“Sing me to sleep” so I sang

“Lost and lonely, don’t go mad

Don’t keep too much on your shoulders

That makes you so sad

Don’t go lonely, don’t go mad

Don’t keep too much on your shoulders

makes you so sad”



Please check them out if you get a chance