Written the night before I started my MRes Studies
"This tuck me seconds to write, but I thought about it last night. I think about it every night. why? Karl typed it into google, google gave him an answer. His head didn’t explode. His friends mocked him, but they loved him really. They need him. He was there from the start. They where there from the start. They said things they will later regret, but they ment it at the time. They where misinformed, joking, saying there opinion and / or trying to stay neutral. They did the best they could all of them, karl, his mum, the father. His heros he looked up to them all. They where his gods. They warned him about the devils, the crooked cops, the nazi nurses, the nazi men who pulled the trigger. I know I have seen there uniforms. In museums, the facts are there on the wall, in black an white. History is written by the victors, but they never really won. They killed, because they loved with passion, and hated with passion. There is no middle ground. There is no grey., im a nerd. A super nerd. Big bang made that cool again. Its sooooooo in this season. An tis’ the season to be jolly. We sang it in school. Maybe not that exact version. The copyrighted one. A basterdised version. Sang by kids who couldn’t really sing. They where terrible really. But we loved them every last one. An now one of them is a star. In that constilation I know. Rob taught me. We marvelled at the big dipper, orion, the plough. Some folk believe they burn brightly and predict there future. Its all clever, marketing. Papa was my hero. The explorer. The new world scares him. He ran back to the ship, with terror, with so much energy. With news. You’ve got to read between the lines really, don’t take it at face value. Its all clever linguistics and I probabily pronounce it wrong anyways. I have a regional accent, I get my tv guide from the sun. dad is a red . . . red white and blue. Symbolism and the psychology of colour. Im not acrededited but ive got a good grasp of the basics. The fundamentals. I read from the source, the seminal works. All of them. Hungry for knowledge like the catterpiller muncing his way through all the greens. I lost him, her. Was it a boy or a girl. I’d never eat one, not unless I was in your house. Its respectful that way. The idiot who travels the world. I couldn’t write some thing this profound in any other language. Except the language of love, art. The shit covered canvases are a joke. But you pay good money to see them. Because they where illiterate, they tell there story on the walls. Some idiot will probabily paint over them anyway. Newton was right you know, so was Einstein. A drop out, that quits, worked in a patent office. What would the neighbours think. He probabily stole that idea, and claimed it for his own. That would make a good cartoon. Just make sure its aired in the right countires and everyone pays the right price. Get em’ while there hot, unless you like them cold. All my favourite comedians are super intelligent. So confident and self assured. Tears of a clown my ass. They are laughin all the way to bank they trust most. Unless it’s a charity gig. Even then you can joke about drugs. The good ones not the bad ones, the ones that take away the pain in the long term. Ease your suffering, while you work out the best decision. Unless your time is up. Death will be beautiful. Id love to go to my own funeral. Probabily my fault I died. I was too old, fat, tuck the wrong advise. To be resirected. Now that would be glorious. No funeral for me. Id know what all the critics said. Haters will hate. Don’t hate the player hate the fame, game, blaim. My last words will be my best, unless im drugged. My loved ones wont understand . . . not yet. They will eventually. In there own time. Watching the clock, not watching the clock. Its all relative really. Actors are ten a penny. Not all of them get it. That’s why they do it part time. They arnt motivated by the trappings. Someone could always move the goal posts at the last minute anyways. Id rather be the goal post. On the side lines, with my pad, my pen. I could claim the header last minute. If the ref aint lookin’. I joke obviously. I don’t do contact sports. Not since the acciedent. It wasn’t anyones fault, really we where just kids. We died way to young, the odds where always in our favour. Sometimes characters get killed off premiturly. We cheer if they where evil. We cry if we knew them. Your not alone though. The whole team is there and we are all in this together. I’ve never formatted anything this bad before and made it public. Disappointed by the ending. Me too. But one day this will all be yours.
I find it weird how some moments, sentences and events stick in the mind, like the minority of glitter on a child’s collage. This happens to everybody not just mentals like me with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Most statements just flow past us in the stream of day to day dialogue. The bulk zip off into the ether, while others that seem insignificant at the time, are played in our surround sound brain cinema over and over, for years and years.
The cheeky observation made by a friend, a compliment from a boss, or a criticism from a family member. Sometimes you get the feeling that the quote or information you are receiving is going to have a profound impact on your life forever, a seminal moment sending you off on a tangent in your experience of the world. Other times it’s just that silly jelly joke you remember from when you were in primary school or a line from your favourite Hollywood blockbuster.
With what seems like a random lottery of occurrence, your favourite painting in the Amsterdam art gallery carries a blue tombola ticket in the mind raffle. With no discrimination or prejudice between positive and negative the roulette wheel spins and an event real is replayed with the distortion of time and perspective.
I find it weird how some moments, sentences and events stick in the mind, like the minority of glitter on a child’s collage.
You have already associated feelings to each thought, but now your mood and physiology influence the rerun in your head.
We can choose to watch whatever show we want, directors of our own experience. That’s unless we are having a bad OCD day or are in the pits of depression. Then the first kiss or the surprise birthday relived are replaced with nasties from the confined darkness of our obsessive minds.
Renegade memories highjack the reins of the head and show their faces on wanted posters flashing between the eyes over and over. You have no control over these sound bites and flash images. They deliver there unrequested emotion then piss off.
Every day is full of tiny moments. How is it decided which ones will stick with you? Sometimes you are struck by a realisation so profound you know it is going to hitch a ride as brain baggage for some years, while others, seemingly insignificant events at the time, pop up repeatedly for years, doing there dam best to teach you a lesson you seem unready to grasp yet.
But some renegade memories highjack the reins of the head and show their faces on wanted posters flashing between the eyes over and over . . . They deliver there unrequested emotion then piss off.
You commit certain things to memory, the taste of the lasagne your first girlfriend made you, while others are just smacking you in the nose like the clear heels you stripper flat mate kept underneath her bed.
The web of connections in your mind, the highway for thoughts and day dreams grows each and every day. Do the reassess dissolve in the periphery? Is there a physical limit to its size blocked in by your ears like book ends.
Mind be quite, let me be in the moment.
Will you remember this?
It is always nice to receive positive feedback and constructive criticism from your friends. It's great when those closest to you encourage you to continue pursuing your passions while steering you down the straight and narrow.
Another priceless quality in a pal is to be able to share a sense of humour.
Enter my long time buddy John Jones BSc. In his own witty way he has brought to my attention my “big use of words”, when expressing myself online could be interpreted as a “pain in the arse”.
I received this prank voice mail on Monday from the “ministry of Facebook updates" AKA John Jones.
No offence intended to the Irish :s
What do you think guys? Plough forth with words over 10 characters long? Tone it down a bit? A lot?