Fifty Ways........

On the subject of 'goodbyes', Paul Simon once sang a song titled 'Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover'. Frankly this was a fucking lie - the cheating bastard only detailed five, to my count. Even this is over-stating the case really, because when it comes down to it, no matter whether your name is Gus and you hop on the bus, or Stan and you make a new plan - it really only entails one thing and that is walking out of the door. I guess one could argue that all of this is poetic license, or being less than generous with the truth for the sake of art - taking fucking liberties is what I call it - fucking songwriters...........

Goodbyes III

Or maybe the Digestives were harder to let go - parting is such sweet sorrow..........

Goodbyes II

Saying goodbye to my Cream Crackers was probably the hardest thing I ever had to do.........

Goodbyes

Saying 'goodbye' to anybody, particularly after many years together in a happy friendship or close personal relationship, can be a difficult business - how to articulate all those complex parting emotions and feelings; it can be really tricky. Why not make it even harder by doing it with a mouthful of Cream Crackers or Digestive biscuits?

Twat II

Loss III

Sometimes we may fall over the edge ourselves - then we can always console ourselves with cheese sandwiches; lost - but with a tasty snack.

Hope

........then again, there may be hope.

Loss II

Sometimes things just fall over the edge - no matter how precious; we reach and grab but our reactions are just too slow, our grip too weak and our efforts futile. That which we treasure the most is gone, lost in an instant of distraction, an inadvertent moment of inattentiveness - a permanent loss; irreplaceable. This is how my cheese sandwiches went.

The long way home

Shite - should have taken the no.28, not the 37.

Party Party Party!

Here at the Institute the party is in full swing as we celebrate the fact that this venerable and hallowed organisation has been on the go for a month and six days. A bottle of cheap Belgian lager has been opened and maybe some cheesy Wotsits will be circulated. Personally this kind of hedonism is beyond me and I intend climbing through the window of the gents at the earliest possible opportunity, catching the number 37 home and tucking up with my cocoa. Maybe some of you party animals might like to post details of your favourite party tipple, though? (Flaming Sambuca with a Creme de Menthe chaser, anyone?)

Nothing

Yesterday - nothing; last night - nothing; today - nothing. Just nothing.

Sum Total

Two empty Grolsch bottles, a dirty cup, a wristwatch, five CDs, a letter and three feathers. That's all.

By what means?

By what means do we seek to justify our various appropriations? Need, desire, greed, want? Is genuine need sufficient justification for theft? By what means do we come to believe in the consensus of a notional 'moral majority' - that we willingly accept the yoke of conformity (and condemn those who choose not to); that our innate rebelliousness is quelled, quashed and palliated, that we accept ourselves as failing aspirants to an illusory 'normality' which has no evidence of its own existence? By what means do we allow ourselves to be branded, labelled and villified - how does fear of that which is not ourselves come to be the instrument of our own governance? How are we blinded to the manner of our own subjection?