Tuesday 22 February 2011

Time with cat

I woke up a few hours ago after having had some really crystal clear, meaningful dreams and resolved to get some of those ideas and visions written down before they faded and the message was lost forever. Until very recently my work output has drastically dropped to almost nothing as I've focused more and more on experiencing the world first hand in an effort to refine my understanding of nature and my place in it. But, in order to solidify experience into knowledge, the learning has to become teaching, the scout has to report back it's findings to base camp, the shadow casts itself across the light creating form, RAM saves to ROM, and so on. I reckon this is what the ancients were saying when they advised us to ground ourselves firmly on the earth in order to ascend to heaven.

With this rather lofty principle lodged firmly in my admittedly rather sleepy skull, I booted my computer and got to work. After a few minutes I realised that I needed a drink or all those lucid visions would end up as gasping, dry, parched images of myself evaporating in the sunlight like a vampire caught without his sunblock. The moment I opened the door one of my cats jumped into my room, purring it's face off and leaped onto the carpet rolling around in expectant tummy-rub flavoured ecstasy. He'd been waiting for me to arise, having probably heard my morning stirrings and thought that before he lost his momentum he'd jump straight into my busy, thirsty face.

I was partly amused and also mildly irritated... if I didn't crack on with some work I might lose my momentum entirely, but how could I not show that expectant little moggy some love?

Cue fuss.

And surely enough, I once again proved to myself that nature shows the way...

Digsy, in his excitement for immediate contact, and my initial reluctant reaction based upon a minor fear of lost productivity got me thinking about time and the way we see it in the modern world with regards to our work output. I don't need to go into any kind of rant about the way that our society demands more and more of our precious time and labour as recompense for it's false parenthood ministrations. Like all systems, the more time we devote to our society, the more it does for us. I think for most people this manifests itself as the desire to work harder and harder in order to accumulate more things to make themselves feel comfortable, without realising that comfort can lie irrespective of those crutches. Any time not spent focusing on this goal is considered to be wasted, or at best "leisure time", valued only lowly and as a matter of necessity with the overall goal of keeping one fit and happy for the days toil.

And so Digsy almost lost out here. He almost missed his fuss because there's a twitching, dying remnant of conditioning in my mind that tells me that to be unproductive is a sin. This is kind of true from many perspectives, but it's a matter of where your focus lies.

Suffice to say, after five minutes or so playing with the cat, the results were quite profound. One happy cat, and one enlightened Halford.

That short time I'd dedicated to the feeling of joy, both mine and his, shared, left me feeling elated and full of vigour for my coming projects. In my mind I'd transmuted five minutes of what could have been seen to be dead time, wasted on another creature who'd attached it's suckers vampire like into my precious wallet, into absolute gold.

Over the last six or seven years,starting after I first started to toy with meditation, I've enjoyed taking a long walk every day. Often, I'd finish work early or even put off my own plans and ambitions in order to make this walk. I often turn off my phone, stick a massive grin on my head and stroll around in the sunshine listening to good music, marvelling at flowers and clouds and the arses of the single mums I pass in the street. I'm generally just being happy. When I get home I've usually been out for a couple of hours. I've sculpted my working life around this walk, or other forms of meditation and experiential exercise because that desire to feel and realise those couple of hours of happiness has become so central to my being. I don't work often now. When I do work I like to finish early. I have become used to not having much money and relying on creativity in order to find expression, to attain the goals I want to achieve, and have also sacrificed that direct connection to the industrial world and it's population of working humans that most other people face, willing or not, on a daily basis.

Those two hours a day, when seen in financial terms, prevent me from making money. That's a given. Seen in artistic, "spiritual" and creative terms, and thus through to my own experience and understanding, those two hours really have shaped my life into who I am today. And since I feel like I've achieved a level of understanding about the world, and thus could potentially use those skills in any which way I choose (even finding a good job if I so desired), I consider these sacrifices minimal. Direct contact with nature brings understanding, of this I am sure.

My thoughts on this then are that what for one may appear to be a waste of time, unproductive, to another can be integral to their life. I can judge the results of my studies and labour, if you can even call it that, by the relative level of understanding and happiness I enjoy in the now.

In the time it's taken me to write this, my cat has been sitting next to me quietly, and I think happily. He's just stirring, and has now jumped off the bed and stuck his claws into my knee. A gentle reminder he want's playing with again. He's inspired me to write this blog, as well as motivated me to see the silver lining in the cloud again.

I'm already winning. And so is he.


Saturday 19 February 2011

Prismatic dictator

Think.

Creation blooms and a pure thought is born
From the stillness and purity of Mind's perfect form.
Since inception it's intention to propagate flawlessly,
To intrinsically merge with the whole of humanity.

But now intercepted, mutilated, corrupted, dessecrated,
Crudely recreated, replicated and forceably re-transmitted.
Still beautiful to see but carrying a plague of pure hatred and yet
Still unsated, this creation of desperate wills banded together, cold love mated with unthinking elation.

Sent forth! This beam is prismed to colours, each the singular focus of one perception of man, unbiased in their sole goal to wrest reality from hands of the pure.
Injected In! This friendly syringe feeds a sickly addictive sweet tasting filth straight into your open-doored conscious, utilising the latest fashionable doctrines to bypass your strongest moral defenses.

And now the bleached remains lie parched and entangled, mangled and listlessly drifting amid once beautiful oceans, before so tranquil. Chaos and hell descended has deafened all quiet stillness, but left nothing in its wake but twisted dreams and scattered fragments. Collapsed channels remain constricted, containing the scattered detritus of it payload, the ruthlessly discarded DNA of the mind's true seed unsowed. Error after error perpetuates the downward spiral as this apocalyptic miasma encroaches upon every last bastion of hope, the soul's defenses inhibited by the crucial crux of the program, controlling its own crushing, endless loop...

So think.

Cup of D?

Why oh why is there no Myspace blog category for "Drug Abuse"?

Useless. Here's me, wanting to write about my feelings on my favourite drug of all time, caffeine, and yet there's no tidy little sociobox to file my report under. Instead, I've had to put this one under Romance and Relationships, since my on/off courtship with coffee and tea is exactly that. A taxing, arduous romance, speckled with little chocolate sprinkles of absolute joy..

Here's what ol' Wikipedia says about caffeine:

"Caffeine is a xanthine alkaloid compound that acts as a psychoactive stimulant in humans. The word comes from the French term for coffee, café..."

Ok so far, but I'm going to skip down the page to the important bit.

"Caffeine intoxication

An acute overdose of caffeine, usually in excess of 400 milligrams (more than 3–4 cups of brewed coffee), can result in a state of central nervous system overstimulation called caffeine intoxication. Some people seeking caffeine intoxication resort to insufflation(snorting) of caffeine powder, usually finely crushed caffeine tablets. This induces a faster and more intense reaction. The symptoms of caffeine intoxication are not unlike overdoses of other stimulants. It may include restlessness, nervousness, excitement, insomnia, flushing of the face, increased urination, gastrointestinal disturbance, muscle twitching, a rambling flow of thought and speech, irritability, irregular or rapid heart beat, andpsychomotor agitation In cases of much larger overdoses mania, depression, lapses in judgment, disorientation, loss of social inhibition, delusions, hallucinations, psychosis,rhabdomyolysis, and death may occur."


Scary stuff right? I mean, how many psychoactive compounds do you know you can buy legally and without prescription? And here's the odd bit. Apart from the last symptom (death) I pretty much experience every single one of those effects every time I have a strong cup of coffee. I don't need to snort the shit like some depraved coffee-ground junkie, just drinking a strong cup of java will do it.

That's right, I'm a caffeine lightweight. (Hangs head in shame)



Coffee and tea absolutely batter me senseless. This is a fact. In much the same way that a massive line of cocaine would completely batter me, the only difference is that with coffee instead of being instantly bored of everything and telling everybody so in a loud and beligerant way, I instead find my mind racing at about 10,000 thoughts a second. This can be useful when I'm in a creative mood, such as when I'm writing something, drawing or playing my guitar or whatever, but if there's anything in any way important to do, forget it. It mentally incapacitates me. In my last office job that I had, my work colleagues quickly became aware of this fact. One time, after a particularly vicious columbian affair (coffee not coke), I sat staring slack-jawed at nothing in particular on my monitor for over twenty minutes, eyes crossed slightly, drooling like a catatonic spastic and muttering to myself incoherantly, before Mandy (or whatever her stupid name was) leant over, tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I needed a tissue. Mathematics genius that I am, I soon learned well the equation Ben + Coffee = Human Squid.

For me, drinking a cup of coffee is a terrible gamble. I risk an almost cataclysmic mental breakdown with every sip, like some ancient hero presented with the chalice of the gods.

"Drink from this cup of the great god Oogah Boogah, oh brave knight, and knowledge eternal shall be yours! But know this! 'Tis a terrible poison which can send a sane man mad!" Or whatever.

The benefits seem obvious though. Feeling awake when you should be shattered is the least of it. I experience an almost unimaginable phrenic acceleration, breakneck and relentless, barrel rolling like an out of control jet fighter piloted badly by some cranked up methhead, teetering on the very brink of sanity, my brain giving birth to ever increasingly ridiculous spurts of twitching, amphetamine-like jibberish. Boiling, ever evolving mental diahorrea, ejected. I watch poetry forming itself spontaneously, repeating in a loop until it shatters and fragments into an echolalic noise, then a piece of music, then if I'm really lucky a picture, or a philosophy, or a universe. You should get the idea here. Total, utter fucking beautiful madness, hot and steamy with a dash of milk. Occasionally I'll be able to record some of this feverish sweaty excretion, usually by shakily writing a few words down, hammering a scatty beat out or by sketching something very weird. Often I'm doing this as much to keep myself rooted in normality, to avoid spiraling into an inescapable vortex of earl grey flavoured headfuck. Amongst all this wreckage, these trains of thought not so much derailed as forcibly shredded into strips of white hot confetti and puked into a bubbling primordial swamp of unintelligable faff, the intact and remembered thoughts I've had whilst high as a kite have ranged from absurd to absolute crackpot mental asylum escapee genius. If only I could hold onto one of them long enough to take it anywhere... I've probably cured cancer twenty times over only to have the revelation completely smothered by the image of an ex-girlfriend bumming herself with her own corkscrew face in a twisted, endless mobius strip of pornagraphic wrongness.GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

The times that I've really damaged myself on this evil brew, I won't talk about. Suffice to say that sitting in a corner rocking backwards and forth waiting for it to end, like you do on a bad trip, is about the easiest it's been. Someone once described me as "twich lord". I fear pro-plus almost as much as I fear beetroot, but not quite. And a cup of coffee as a hangover cure? Are you mentally limited? I have never ever felt so much misery as having drank an entire bottle of vodka the night before and then thinking that drinking a litre of coke to "pep me up" would be a good idea. Cue eight hours of utterly mindtwatting misery convulsively punctuated by long, slow shuddering bursts of projectile vomiting. RESULT!

I'm not the only person who seems to be so sensitive to caffeine either, my mate Ben is even worse than me, he reckons a misplaced cup of coffee can screw his day. What is wrong with us?

At least I don't need to be spending large amounts of money on addictive, heavily cut class-A narcotics when riding the knife edge between heaven and hell can be bought for a couple of quid down the local cornershop.

See you all in outer space.

Unity

What separates the likes of you and me?
Who's lives are so entwined eternally?
My life is yours and yours is mine tonight,
We both search for meaning in life's twilight.
But remember this! Oh shadow of me!
My own mirror image shows you to be,
A facet of me!
Learn the lessons we give one another!
Because we're here now to teach each other.
I look towards the horizon once more,
And see you waiting for me on that shore

Originally written 29th December 2008 and posted to my myspace blog.