the chains that free

up in the middle of the night thinking about the things that keep us alive.

ask a scientist and they will tell you about the various biochemical reactions taking place every single moment of our lives, our cells in a constant cycle of birth, functional use and death then rebirth (a mini life cycle of sorts). leading eventually to a lack of function and ceasation of existence.

enquire of a philosopher and they may propose that it is in fact our continued ability to ask that very question that defines us and establishes our link with the rest of all that is. all that is of course being nothing more than an extention of ourselves and an extrapolation of all we are able to conceive.

for the cynic all of being is naught but a trick, a slight of hand, the wool drawn over the eyes of the willingly deceived. and the optimist, optimistically embracing with childish innocence, bearing being with leviety and grace not knowing it is that which forms the sedimental foundations of skepticism.

there are economists who hold fast that we a merely products of a system, here to facilitate the propagation and continued functioning of said system until we are no longer needed, they are commonly known as spiritual.

but sitting here holding all that is life, all that is potential it occurs to me. we are held in this world by those who love us. like an invisible web, trapping us, securing us, mooring us and founding us. we are held fast by those who care. complex tapestry, woven through time and tears binding us to one another, forming so much of what makes us human. these are the ties that bind, these are the chains that set us free.

time

I have a very simple philosophy about life. life measured in time, in increments of seconds, grouped in minutes, forming moments, differentiated by hours, days, weeks and years. it really is that simple. when I commit my time to something I give it value. I give it the value that I would otherwise believe my life is worth. therefore, to give an object your time is to bestow on that object an import that speaks of your own self esteem. ergo, when I give a person my time I would hope they realise that I have said that my life is worth more for having invested some of it with them.

and finally, when I give a company my time in exchange for money, by pre arranged contractual agreement, I expect that paltry sum to be delivered as agreed. no amount of money can ever truly recompense one for the loss of time, for life is not measureable in pounds and pence, dollars and cents. but really? how hard is it not to be a complete and utter moron?

a fair trade?

I sat at home this weekend admiring the wonder that is employment. it seems that I have finally found a job that allows me to be home before 5.30 every evening. it's amazing. I've never lived in such luxury. the down side of this though is the staggering incompetence of those holding the purse strings means that I must content myself with working for free....

so it might be slave labour, but the hours are good.

pimps, ho's and hustlers

I'll admit it straight up, look you in the eye and tell you how it is. sure, I've worked the game, no shame in it. damn, we all done stuff we ain't proud of. at the end of the day business was did and bills were paid.

operating out of my corner 'office' under street lamp, clientele hailing from every walk, servicing needs with no judgement. I'm coming out and saying this now 'cause recently there's a lot of misunderstanding about how this whole 'ho' show works.

people need to realise that once you're on the inside you got somebody to answer to. just like any other so called profession. so when everything gets all twisted, government steps in with new rules and whatnot, it's only the man on the front line that feels it.

hell, that's why I dropped out. I was working every hour God sent, making a pile and taking home a percentage. living for the next meal, getting skinny while bosses get fat. reeling them in by the dozen, sometimes 20+ a day, and nada to show for it. taking all the risks getting little to none of the benefits. well, people, that wasn't for me.



so yeah, I left banking. had to be done, just had to be done.

the terror within

I saw a guy getting beaten up the other day. 7 or so larger youths took it upon themselves to lay in to him for no discernable reason. maybe they were refused a wallet or a cell phone.

so one defenseless young man was beaten. viciously, relentlessly. and people just walked on by. this wasn't in the meagre privacy afforded by a poorly lit alleyway or in the seculsion of some remote unused path, this took place in a mall. in public. before the eyes of a purposefully unseeing public.

7 or so youths, none out of their teens I would have thought, a law unto themselves, behaving like animals, unrestrained, undeterred, uninhibited by the possibility of repercussions. and the public shielded their eyes and walked on by.

I was incensed. furious. and sad. what kind of world do we live in when one young man cannot walk the streets in peace and safety, what kind of society spawns the type of vile, neanderthals that would do such a thing, and what kind of people stand by and do nothing?

maybe instead of calling for more gun and knife control we would do better to unfetter our vision, maybe then we could bring succour to a society intent of its own self destruction instead of roundly condemning the various victims, maybe we might ignite something of the heroic within us all by refusing to be intimidated and cowed in our own homes, schools, workplaces and so on, maybe then we would be able to live without fear. 

maybe, maybe...

random

random non cohesive rambling......

bread and butter to the mentally infirm and those employed within the political structure. yet completely useless for blog writing.....

considering tomorrows

here I sit, considering tomorrows.

the middle of the night, it seems fitting. life hurries by at 60 minutes per hour. barely have I become acquainted with the moment before it is gone and in it's place a new one born, and the dance begins anew.

it seems though, that every now and then it serves to consider tomorrows. so here I sit. and I have to admit, from here it looks pretty grim. but that is the beauty of slowing down, appreciating the ride as it progresses, though grim, it is not unavoidable.

'I live in dreams' someone more romantic than me once said that. and I agree. now is the time to dream, to prepare, to idealise and to be free. I dream in the technicoloured frenzy of the 'now' so that my futures may not be so grey.

so, take a moment, come sit with me, and consider your tomorrows but thred lightly, for dreams are afoot.

that common unity

Meaning.
Like air to our bodies, meaning brings life to our souls. for without meaning we, as people, stumble aimless, listless, fruitless through the muck and mire of existence without respite. Like heavy clothes and warm hearth meaning rescues us from simply 'being' and allows us to truly flourish.

Meaning.
Since earliest days we have striven for greater meaning, It seems we define ourselves our very personhood by what we mean to those who are important to us. (Ah, but there is a thought, 'those who are important to us'. already we are assigning meaning, but on what grounds? for surely they are no more than we allow them to be? this is one egg that refuses to acknowledge the chicken from whence is most likely came. but I digress) From the very youngest seeking the approval and affirmation of their parents to the oldest seeking out the very faintest trace of themselves reflected in the face of our successors. We all want to know that we mean something to someone.

Meaning.
It seems a deep soul hunger that binds us all, keeps us in constant search of communion, it is in fact that common union that separates us from other sentient beings on the this planet. but, like most of our instinctive urges, meaning is a poor servant and a horrific master. we mask it, dress it up, disguise it to protect our pride or rename it to soothe our bewildered social consciousness. or, greater crime yet, we wield it, one against another.

Meaning.
it is baffling to see those for whom meaning, belonging, knowing oneself and being known has meant so much turn and use it weapon against those who have not yet found their own selfness. we manipulate our meanings to isolate the weak, oppress the defenseless and harangue the distressed. we, the civilised masses, have canabalised ourselves, feeding upon our own sense of superiority. our own sense of what. we. mean. to. our. selves.  

of course these are merely the observations of one and need not be the experience of the many. but it is my experience that the need to mean transcends the geographical. and so I urge caution. I propose that if we never mean more than what we see in the mirror, if we never mean something greater than our finest accoutrements, if we never mean something loftier than our accumulated wealth. then we mean nothing at all.

The New Danger

  This just in and hot off the press! a new danger has been identified in the battle against drug related gang activity in inner city areas! mothers, gather up your young! fathers, secure your homes! no one is safe against the threat of......

  74 year old pensioners!!!!

why, even just this morning one such criminal was apprehended on his way to "buy his sunday paper". at least that's what he would like the world at large to believe. after a stop and search session that would have made hans blix beam with pride, the eight brave police officers involved in the heroic venture in hackney were able to establish that apart from a freedom pass, a comb and some small change the nefarious thug, weighing in at a monstrous 81/2 stone, was, in fact, not carrying anything else.

Undeterred by a lack of evidence, opportunity, motive or in fact a crime, hackneys finest went on to interrogate the suspect.

At this point I am unable to go on describing the events. this is mainly because the sheer stupidity and gross incompetence of these wage slaves defies mocking.

but at the very least, the people of hackney can now rest safe in the fact that while their local education facilities maybe poor, nearby leisure facilities maybe underfunded and falling apart (you know who I'm talking to), unemployment levels maybe high and average income maybe low, regeneration maybe pricing them out of their homes and communities, they maybe under represented in parliament and over represented in jail, they may even be stereotyped and vilified six ways from sunday

......at least seventy four year old pensioners who still work 5 days a week to pay bills, pay for heating, pay for food and never once ask for anything from the government....at least that sort aren't free to wander around in the streets on a sunday morning buying newspapers and inspiring youth with their damn work ethic and never give up attitude. bravo