Jeans vs Pie Dish

I had a spectacular failure of a jean buying trip last weekend - as in I didn't find any jeans. In fact I didn't buy anything. The only thing that tempted me on my trek round Matalan and Peacocks (I know - fancy) was a half price pie dish.

I don't think I'd be alone amoung women in thinking buying a pie dish on a jean buying trip is admitting failure as in: 'what the hell, I've got a muffin top in these jeans - lets go home and make a pie instead - mmm pie'.

So in the end I couldn't quite bring myself to buy the pie dish. I'll have to do a cooking equipment shop this weekend - I think success is pretty certain.

Extract - 2nd person met on the journey

This is a conversation with the second person Pilgrim meets:



'Drawn on my shoe is a green leaf,
You can’t see it, it’s underneath,
Look, see if to you it speaks’

‘I see darkness and confusion’
I said ‘Robbery and prison,
I see a childhood robbed of joy,
Then you a wily older boy,
I see you drugged, You in a daze,
Freedom sought through toxic haze,
A corpse outside Boots the Chemist,
A death not mourned, a life not missed’,

‘Freedom sought, to a large degree,
Was cause of my dependency.
My mother drank, she was depressed,
No joy she took in my first breath.
As a teenager I was mean,
Then sought out the free party scene,
The dancing people cared for me,
I rode on waves of Ecstasy,
The freedom and camaraderie,
That was my first dependency,
A few years on, memory shot,
I saw they didn’t care a lot,
Freedom and Love without true form,
Don’t last so long, don’t last at all,
So I sought freedom not in Trance,
That manic, crazy, chemical dance,
But instead in oblivion,
The silk steel grip of heroine.
I was a nasty piece of work,
Down alleys, hungry, would I lurk,
3 times the Judge rehab ordered,
The last time, by all so battered,
I prayed my chains would break and fall,
I felt some peace, some glimmer small.
But 8 year chains are strong indeed,
I held my chains and fed my need,
And there you see me sleeping deep,
I crumpled, ruined, heroin heap.
The Lord’s kindness and great mercy,
In me a mustard seed did see,
He raised me up, and re-clothed me,
And to my joy, in him I saw,
All I had sought, and so much more.’

I looked in to his bright green eyes,
Entirely free, just so alive.

A Journey into Light and Shadow - Extract

I've been playing with a poem, far too long to post in full, for some time. Anyway here is an extract. This is a conversation with the first person Pilgrim meets on her journey:

All round the dress near to the ground,
A purple stripe wound right around,
‘Look close’ she said, I said ‘I see
Golden figures in Tennessee,
A shape within a mothers womb,
Deep shades of love and shades of gloom,
I see cruel chains round God made feet,
Loud cries to God and summer heat,
Small acts of kindness, a child sweet,
I see your life, and then I see,
All chains fall off, you standing free’

'That is my tale
Many are common on the earth,
And few are of a royal birth,
I was not. Nothing did I own,
Not my flesh, my blood, my bone,
I was ripped from my mother’s breast,
My days were bound I found no rest,
Deep in the south I worked the field,
Through blood and sweat they gave their yield,
But though my moisture fed earth,
It was not mine, but just my work.
Through prayers to God I touched ‘The Free’,
Now here I’m free eternally.’

Turning down a job, and a potential lover, all in one day

I got offered a job last week. I know - there are literally no jobs and I got one. I nailed it.

As it turns out though the bloke was more interested in nailing me - text messages followed the offer saying I was 'very beautiful' and he 'liked me in many ways'. Nice. I must also point out this guy was 60 if he was a day.

One thing I was slightly relieved about was the fact he was a wheelchair user. Lets face it if he decided to become a stalker he'd be fairly bad at it; all I'd have to do is go up a step.

Looks like I'll be back at the ever depressing Dalston Job Centre next Thursday.

CRASH UK

Howdy. Here's a poem I wrote towards the end of last year, but it still seems relevant:

Oi You! Concrete crown of island nation,
Friend of style, youth, power, ambition,
Strength of a crocodile, strength of a prison,
I drove full speed in to your vision.

I walked in the rhythm of the London life,
Bobbing, weaving, ducking through the daily strife,
I walked through you City – golden sacred mile,
With the powerful and rich who neither frown nor smile,

But now you shudder as the whole world shakes,
Production changes, the small man quakes,
Your big bold players raised the stakes too high,
And as it turns out we were unable to fly – so we crashed.

I was wooed by the London style,
By men with their money and women with their guile,
And the rhythm felt alright,
I was anonymous by day and invisible by night,
I listened to the London sound,
Commercial Trance, The Big Cheese and Underground,

But now! Oh Great City, Oh Big Smoke!
So strong, so bold, so wise, so broke.