Thursday 18 December 2014

Fem.

A front room, everywhere. 





Alexus:

I’m sick of em, sick of em. Going on about it all the time, like. Acting like blokes. Looking like blokes. It’s boring. And it’s bollocks.

Leigh:

Men are supposed to look after their girls. It isn’t pretty is it? Putting up shelves, drinking pints with your mates. Makes you feel like a dick.

…Did you know Marie fixed her car? I mean the size of her…?

Alexus:

You’ve got to have that difference haven’t you? The yin, the yang, whichever is which. It’s a compliment, it isn’t the same, it can’t be the same because it’s different.

Leigh:

Yeah, that’s it. Different.

Alexus:

Damn right! Gender, gender, gender. Women, men…bloody trannies like your Andy! It shouldn’t matter.

And why do they have to shout about it..? It’s all, this is us, we are here! Away from you lot. Shouting about being called love or getting their arses touched, and tits eyed up.

I mean if you’ve got it, you should flaunt it, right?!

Leigh:

Yeah!

Alexus:

It’s boring. It’s fucking boring…

Leigh:

…yeah...

Alexus:

…Basically, you cocks are cocks, and cocks are cocks and need to be told that you are cocks…

Leigh:

I’d love it if I got my arse felt up by a fitty.

Alexus:

…I mean what gives them the right to tell me how I should treat people?! We’re not all the same. We’re all different.

We’re not all cocks.

That dwarf bird, Angie, you see her on the market. She’s got to be treated different. She can’t do stuff. You have to help her. She’s fucked on them stairs.
And Danny spanner, I mean everyone knows Danny. Everyone looks out for Danny.

We’re not all the same, and I’m not going near them. They’re fuckin’ angry for no reason.

---

Leigh:

I wish Jordan would stop making me gag when I’m giving him a blowie.

Alexus:

Oh god, I hate it when they do that.

Wednesday 17 December 2014

Me and my monkey.


We’re all 85.

Cosmetically we don’t look it. We’ve got robots grandkids, and nobody has to move or work anymore because we’re all attached to a universal monorail that transports us everywhere whilst the robots do our bidding. Maybe.  

........................................


Now statistically, as a plausible guestimate. 18 of us are dead. It was quick, it didn’t hurt, don’t worry.

23 of us have Alzheimer's/Dementia

3 Parkinsons

4 MS

7 Miscellaneous

and 1 Huntington’s

And the rest….well we’re alive – we made it! 

But wait, I need to take you somewhere:

Meet Al, 98, he loves carpentry to the extent the care home has too many bird boxes and hedgehog huts. He has a ponytail, refuses to wear wide fitting slippers, and drives his motorbility scooter far too fast in the corridor. Scamp.

Then there’s the other Al, 92. He’s a cricket man. Loves a panama in summer and getting pissed in the garden with the other Al…he also dodges the wide fitting slipper.

And Betty. She’s 86, malnourished because she has no appetite. Her breathing is shallow and laboured, her eyesight is gone and her hearing is a BIT LIKE THIS, Betty.

She doesn’t like to socialize with Al, the other Al and her fellow residents.

I like Betty. She’s bright, I’ve seen her laugh a few times.  She responds well to a back rub. 

Though we share mere minutes together a day.

Because Betty stays in her room with her memories.

Waiting.

I’ve heard her mumble to god. Take me Lord, take me. Over and over again.

Take me Lord, take me. Take me Lord, take me. Please take me. Take me Lord.

Betty wants to go, but she’s still here.

(Pause)

Ivy is 100, she has full hair, a wicked smile and a tendency to get the hump. She lies in her bed – as requested - in the dark staring at the ceiling. Ivy used to have a pet monkey.

On Ivy’s dressing table is a sippy cup of juice, and a wealth of chocolate goodies, that she will never reach nor eat. And a card.

It’s from the Queen. I’ve never seen one before.

Silence.

Ivy speaks. “Are you looking at my card?”

Yes.

“I got another one as well you know…”

Silence.

“It was from the treasury, that Iain Duncan Smith….but I threw the bastard across the room”.

.............................

This isn’t about those of us taken too early, this is about those of us taken too late.

Tuesday 9 December 2014

Love, Love.



One day I'll be in love again.

Like, stupid love.

The real deal as captured in D:Reams - UR the best thing...The kind of love that makes me want to post pictures - all the time - of us looking cute together; in hats, over cocktails, in front of hilarious signage as 'Twatt'.

There'll be so many reciprocal thumbs and hugs and huns we'll end obesity through sheer nausea.

But that day isn't here yet, so you'll have to crack on with your type 2s safe in the knowledge my beloved best friend is on his way.

And he's ace. Thumbs.



Sunday 30 November 2014

Absolute Balloons

- There's a bear over there.

- Where?

- There, over there! With dark brown hair; a dancing bear!

- Where are you looking?!

- THERE!

- Where?

- There! THERE! Oh my god, are you blind?

- I can't see where you mean.

- Oh for fucks sake....

(Exit)




That poem, Ladies and Gentlemen, was titled 'The Bear, Who Wasn't There, With The Dark Brown Hair'.

Well firstly, hello! How have you been?

I hope November was amazing. My November was absolute bricks; a mixture of everything. Seriously everything. Name it, it was in it.

- Had a car accident.

- Managing to climb - with stealth - over a 6ft fence (risked ripped gibs and a broken leg).

- Got drilled by a hefty dose of rejection.

- Did business I can't talk about. But it was a bit serious.

- Got hit 7 times.

This was most unsettling as I haven't been hit by anyone since I revolted against my mother at the age of 15. She was in a stage of slippering me. I was raised in the Victorian era.

In short, I could deffo have been a plain clothes detective who slippers criminals into submission.

And I've been questioning so much. It's been exhilarating and intense but also contained my shittest week of the year. I'm not being dramatic. It was. See prior.

Firstly, social networking. I've detached from it for the month of November. I called it #nosocialnetworknovember with the pluckiness of an ecstatic wasp. Needless to say it took off and became somewhat of a phenomena - and has raised 15 bazillion pounds for the charity 'Clogs for Cancer'.

Let's first acknowledge that we connect with social networking in different way. I predominantly use Twitter for news, but sometimes as a toy.

Facebook is a more private affair. I don't have too many friends on there. I like it that way.

So the findings.

It's strange. I genuinely had withdrawal from Twitter. I wasn't having the quivers or owt, just consciously thinking and searching for a Twitter vox; A balloon of thought which is pumped full of guff. It faded after 5 days. By then, I'd streamlined my flow, focused elsewhere and retrained my brain. Some people are better at focus than me. Certainly some people on Twitter seem to be stupidly high functioning...they tweet an awful lot - to the point of making me consider calling Social Services; Are they able to juggle kids, careers, all the while maintaining sanity...(?)

Facebook - not arsed. Good for close mates, but too hefty on the old 'your my favourite waste of time'. For me anyway. I also noticed an increase in phone calls received during the social opt out. I even got an actual posted letter. I'm playing hard to get and they bloody love it.

Talking of bollocks (we were) I've been having a play with divination this month. I can read Tarot Cards quite well now. I have had a look at runes, followed astrological transitions, AND been open to the guidance of a psychic...

I can confirm after initial head-fuckery I'm beginning to understand it a bit, and must maintain the importance of *for entertainment purposes only* in approaching enchantments.

What I understand about divination is currently marked under 'X'. Oh and the understanding I alluded to actually doesn't exist.



To hark back to the now infamous 'The Bear, Who Wasn't There, With The Dark Brown Hair' poem, I met the bear. The psychic told me about the bear.

I met the bear. I liked the bear. I stroked the Bear.



It didn't quite work out how she had confidently said: "This (example of ultimate destiny) will happen...",

Psychic badness. Dangerous practice! Don't define life in absolutes, you wench. Don't plant seeds of finity.

But there were specifics in the Bears description that floored me and contributed to said head-fuckery when I appeared to meet him a week after the reading.

She was clearly a witch - I'm going to burn her for messing with my shit.


As I wasn't able to vomit into Twitter at irregular intervals, I made notes about this month. I'm going to attempt to fill you in what was achieved whilst not being so fixated on the ether:

- Discoveries. I'm looking into applying for a pyrotechnics license. As in setting stuff on fire in staged areas. I'd like to reenact a the burning of a witch.

- I've been thinking about death - in a good way................................

- A dog stared at me for half an hour. From a window. With a knife. Just eyes on me for half an hour whilst I waited for a bus that never came. It would have been creepy but for his ridiculous jaw jut.

- My favourite moment of the month goes to a small child of indeterminate gender...well done small child.

This kid buzzed.

Myself and my friend 'Mr Stevie Shitcad', had opted to go yomping in Crystal Palace. He likes the dinosaurs.

Whilst eyeing up the factoids, a child of around six starts reeling off the most amazing dinosaur knowledge I've ever witnessed. Admittedly I don't hang around with Dinosaur fans over the age of 6, but I was amazed. I thought I'd seen Jesus.

Then we went to see the ducks.

The small child of indeterminate gender approached me and asked if I'd like a piece of bread. No prompt, just bosh. In.

This was Jesus!

I took the piece of bread, and cried at such a heart-warming moment. Possibly also crying for my unserviced womb in a heady mix of duality.

Finally this month has made me realise I don't dream very often at all. That's a bit rubbish.

But I had one dream this month. A crying dream. Wizard!

My ex husband. We had decided to re-marry and on our second wedding day morning I caught him in bed with another woman! I went to slap him and missed. I was annoyed I missed. You'd think in your dreams you'd manage it? This missed-slap annoyed me more than the act of finding my beloved rutting some bronzed blonde student who was dead fit. I woke up annoyed. Nice one.



I've got the subtext of the dream. S'cool.

What have I learnt this month? For one, my ego is still alive.

But the good stuff, empowering stuff. Not the stuff that a bad divinator can plant and dazzle you with. Real stuff. The stuff I don't have to mark under 'X'. The small child. The aliveness I felt when having to scale the fence. Dogs with jaw jut. And thinking about bigger stuff than just balloons.

My social networking world being on pause has been a good cleanse, the amount of other stuff I've learnt, and the engagement in real life I've experienced has felt really involved, grounded and present. I've practised patience, spent time with my bloody good pals. And I've got a new qualification - BSc (Hons) Shitstorm with Possibilities.

Some people think and think and think and think and think and think and think and think and try and decipher and make sense of such things as love, life, religion, and why the way people are and what they do and what can we learn. And why am I away with the fairies, looking at the sky, living in a bubble, not being here, but up there?

Perhaps we shouldn't think so much about thinking too much...think about that one! Try not to rationalise everything, allow the irrational to just exist. Mark it under 'X' and crack on with being here, now, not there.

Because though balloons are good value, in many contexts, they've got nothing to say.

Follow me on Twitter for further proof.

X

Thursday 30 October 2014

Faith, The Lone Wolf, and the Marmite Indifference.



I know I'm a bit nuts. I don't mind, in fact I like this about myself. I like the fact I don't seem to conform; that I *think* I see things differently. That's the thing about maturity - you give less of a toss about what people think of you. Now, I will not allow myself to be oppressed by normalcy. I will not be swayed by popular opinion. Just because what I believe is right doesn't mean it is right. I'll just do my own thing, thanks. If you don't like me, don't worry, I don't subscribe to universal approval; You crack on, love. 


I have a new friend.

I liked her straight away. 

Let's call her The Firecracker, and you can make your own image. 




I felt an instant connection to her, in fact she bowled me over with her intensity when we first met, but I could sense an innate goodness about her that didn't make me file her in the 'Whoa There!' cabinet. Fortunately I've been proved right; she's a solid good egg. She's ace.

Slightly younger than me, and newly single, The 'Cracker is naturally addressing and dissecting the 'what-went-wrongs' of her past relationship in order to conclude the lesson. BUT one striking comment she made, that got a rise out of me, was that she felt her poor record in love was her personality/attitude. I up-ended the table there and then (in my mind). Again, she's ace.

The thing is, I'd had this very conversation with myself but 2 months ago. I'm sure many of us - as singletons - have looked in the mirror and thought "What is WRONG with me?". "Why aren't people tripping over themselves to bag a piece of this tasty carcass?", and on special occasions, "I'm so fucking lonely!!!".

And what does your average independent, assertive 36 year old do in the circumstances? They email their Mam of course:





Vic McGlynn <vixmcglynn@googlemail.com>

to Avril

Helloooo Mummington 
                                                                                                     
Got a bit of time off this week, looking forward to sorting out a few things in
the move. But I’m feeling a bit down that there’s something wrong with me 
that I can’t attract a man. I don’t think my new BBC Sheffield picture has 
helped me feel good – it’s horrible. But I just don’t know what it is about me..?

Anyway, time to put a smile on.

Let me know what you’ve been up to.

X
------------------------------------------------------------
avril*******@gmail.com

to me

I knew you were down, after all the excitement and effort of moving etc it's
 only to be expected. You are looking through critical eyes at present. You 
are very attractive, and your eyes are beautiful. I think the man who will be
 attracted to you will be looking for someone very different. In the same way
 as you won't want a boring bloke. You are quite a challenge, most blokes 
want someone they can feel just a bit more superior to, no chance of that 
with you. You want someone who is an equal to you, so that you can bounce 
off each other, have intellectual chats and a laugh. You know all this but if he
 has to be special to be right he's worth waiting for. 

As you say slap on a smile and keep going. Love you so much and want you
 to find someone special, just like you. Take care of yourself, Mum XXXXX

Sent from my iPad

---------------------------------------------------------

Vic McGlynn <vixmcglynn@googlemail.com>

to Avril
That was a lovely and much needed and enjoyed message.

Love you Mum x

---------------------------------------------------------

Shortly thereafter I met someone under rather unorthodox circumstances, and to be fair to that person/victim, I'm going to keep it as vague as possible. 

(cue dry ice) 

Though a brief meeting, there was something to this chap I liked. Perhaps I felt a connection? A mirroring? I did find him attractive; there was an internal, I-think-you-might-be-ace resonance that I *felt* exceeded the connection I apply to friendly acquaintances; you know, the stuff surpassing a light friendship that triggers YES I could possibly be thinking about being willing to perhaps handle your fluids. But more importantly I was very aware of my attitude at the time, and that I felt I could be myself. As crazy, as loud, as opinionated as that *can* be, young Firecracker. And this fella didn't seem perturbed.............

Our meeting gave me faith.

I'm about to talk about pedestrian feminism - Brace! Brace!

I'm gifted with some amazing best friends. One is Nick, who is not only funny, but also incredibly insightful and wise. Thankfully he offers up a token male perspective with regards to the said dilemma I had. I offered that wimmin are still expected to be passive, or a lesser intellectual companion to aid their male counterpart in not only archetypal paternal dominance, but also to aid their need to be 'protectors'. Welllllllll, he called me out straight away, yelling about 'female castrates' and how he preferred his relations with the laydees to be cerebrally challenging and rife with assertion. 

Ok, ok I get it, you like a strong woman. Oh, yes, of course, that's why we're friends. Well, he is ace.


We are all ace. Even the shits. Because someone, somewhere will think so. Keep the faith. Be open to the fact that you are great - for all your freakish foibles - and when you see a special greatness in someone else reflecting right back at you, that's when the magic might happen...  

(Excuse me, I need to dial-a-cliché...)





Jon Brion - Here We Go


You've gotta hope that there's someone for you

As strange as you are

Who can cope with the things that you do

Without trying too hard

Because you can bend the truth

Until it's soothing you

These things that you're wrapping all around you

You never know what they will amount to

And your life is just going on without you

It's the end of the things you know

Here we go


You've gotta know that there's more to this world

Than what you have seen

Because we all have a limited view of what we can be

As we move along

With our blinders on

Each one of us feels a little stranded

And you can't explain or understand it

Each one of us on a different planet

And admist all the to and fro

Someone can say "Hello,

Here we go"


The feeling that someone really gets you

It's something that no one should object to

It could happen today so I suggest you

Skip your habit of laying low

It's the end of the things you know

Here we go