Alan Corkish

2010-04-20T03:19:00.000-07:00

Haven't written in here for ages... perhaps this poem will explain:

so much more than the pain

which can be smothered…
is the emptiness
the sense of
non-existence
that pervasive belief
that already
i cease to be
time moves like glue
and glue
inhabits also the gut
sucking at that image
which i try hard to steer away from
pushing the heart rudder each time it looms large
and yet so much more than the pain
it insists on shuddering to the surface
forcing its way from the gut
through the heart
to emerge like an oversized egg
from the throat
…so much more than the pain
…is the fear

2009-10-30T02:17:00.000-07:00

I have come to a conclusion that to maintain a TRUE blog you need to either be a liar or insensitive. I am neither hence I conclude that this is not a TRUE blog. You see the REAL truth is that you can't plaster all aspects of your life up here in public; no one could. For a start of it would hurt and alarm people whom you love and for another thing we all have dark secrets that we mask even from ourselves. My conclusion however is that by admitting the above I am herein presenting a blog which is a million times more truthful than most you'd find.

So read on; the TRUTH awaits you ;-)

Truth is (boringly) that life goes on and life is rather good. Over the past couple of weeks I've spent time with beautiful people in London and York and have paid several visits to the theatre and to wonderful exhibitions. I have devoured excellent food and paid £50.00 for two coffees and a brandy (ouch! that was London; rip-off City)

In York I saw a very good production of 'Krapp's Last Tapes' and an even better production at the Opera House of 'The Elvis Years' which had me dancing in the aisles with a beautiful lady (I kid you not playmates)

In London I saw the new production at The National of Brecht's 'Mother Courage' and later went to the Anish Kapoor exhibition at the Royal Academy... both events caused great debate over potted shrimps followed by juicy slices of rare duck. Ah we do see life.

In Liverpool I went (night before last) to see a brilliant production of 'The Caretaker' at The Everyman with Jonothan Pryce and wrote this brief review: 'Acting; brilliant! Direction; brilliant! Production; brilliant! ...unfortunately the audience were thick as two short planks!' To-the-point I hope you agree. A few weeks before I saw a rather mediocre production of 'Kes' at the Playhouse which (unlike Pinter's offering) produced little debate and no retrospection at all.

I continue to work albeit on a reduced work-load due to circumstances which I won't discuss here (see beginning of this entry) and I continue to get great satisfaction from what I do (psychotherapy). I continue as a Governor of the Aintree NHS Trust and attended a conference at Birmingham a week back (little Globe-Trotter aint I? ;-) and have also been on a 'surprise' visit to A and E which was 'interesting' but... maybe I'm spending too much time in hospitals. Speaking of which the wound in my back is STILL not mended and I still attend twice a week to have it dressed. On the whole I've just realised that it's only on Sundays that I DON'T see the inside of one hospital or other; mmm; too much probably.

What I really need in my life is another University course to attend. I need to keep the grey-matter active. I'm toying with a couple of MSc's but they won't surface as realities until 2010.

OK playmates, that's it for now. The public arena is not even worth a passing comment except to say that I'm looking forward to see our current Labour-Tories getting the wupping they deserve very soon. People ask me who I'll vote for and I say; 'Probably Tory like you 'Labour-supporting' people have been voting for over the past ten years.' Truth is; I'd rather vote for a Tory who calls himself a Tory that a Tory who calls himself Labour. The latter not only shits on the poor but he lies about who his real paymaster is.

Nuff zed; coffee-time.

Love and Peace.

2009-08-30T08:31:00.000-07:00

Not been on here for a long time... I could bore you all with the story of my wasp sting which very near killed me (It's actually VERY interesting) but instead I'll refer you to some photos and stuff that will explain all... if you're interested click here.

I continue to work as a psychotherapist and continue to enjoy it. Most of my time however is taken up with editing and typesetting new books for erbacce-press which I co-own. It's interesting work and I enjoy it; enjoy also designing the covers. We had a world-wide competition in an absolutely free-to-enter poetry competition and attracted over 1200 entries. Quality stuff too (well most of it was)... sadly the poets from across the pond seem much more liberated than UK poets with the notable exception of Sam Smith. UK poets seem 'stuck', seem bound by rules and conformity.

Today is the Mathew Street Festival when the City Centre shuts its streets to traffic, band-stands are set-up at every corner and the air is filled with free music... I popped in briefly but it was very cold and far too crowded; I was afraid that someone would bump into my wound on my back (Did I tell you I got attacked by an insane wasp wielding blood poisoning capsules?)... tomorrow, Bank-Holiday Monday, if the weather improves I'll spend the afternoon taking photos with my new Nikon D300 which is SO cool :-).

Right. That's it. Not much of an entry I guess... oh but before I go... me and g/f went to London two weeks back and were fortunate enough to get ticket's for Godot. Totally brilliant. With all his wooden Star-Trek efforts behind him I had forgotten that Patrick Stewart can actually act... after the theatre we went on a cruise on the Thames and had dinner which was also wonderful... well, to be honest the food was mediocre (Pasta-stuffed-with-blue-cheese which was over-cooked and grilled turbot which was also over-cooked) ...wine also mediocre and over-priced BUT the scenario was romantic and great fun on a delightfully warm evening... ah we do live well eh?

2009-06-15T01:59:00.000-07:00

Well the erbacce-prize for poetry is closed for now but we are considering making it an annual... here are a few stats which may be of interest:

1) We had over twelve hundred entries.
2) Around a hundred were binned immediately as they came with no snail-mail address
3) We had entries from all over the world; USA, UK, Canada, Australia, Eastern and Western Europe, Ireland etc
4) Four judges have shortlisted 36 to date
5) Of these 35 19 are Male and 16 are Female
6) 11 of these are non-white
7) The four judges have each read about 6000 poems
8) As far as we know we are the ONLY entirely FREE competition in the world
9) On 30th June the Judges will debate the remaining poems and select a winner and two runners up
10) The judges are completely knackered!

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What else have I been up to? Well I bought a brand knew Nikon D300 and a motor drive plus a couple of lenses. You can see some of the photos I've taken on my fotolog pages; click here.

My course at Liverpool College has finished and what a treat it was to attend there; unlike Liverpool JMU the staff at the College exuded empathy and tried their best to get everyone through the course. Also I have been awarded £850.00 'damages' against Liverpool JMU because of the way the uncaring and unprofessional staff treated my complaint against them. But I don't want that money; I want these staff sacked. Watch this space!

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Not been writing much of late as the erbacce-prize and College work have been occupying most of my time... also I have been enjoying the open spaces now the sun is here; last night for example I slept out on the Dunes and on the edge of the forests around Formby and watched the stars. That was beautiful but even here in the middle of June it got quite cold towards morning... But there were a few shooting stars and a bunny came and started eating just six or seven feet from me as the sun came up :-)

Speaking of 'shooting' there was an 'incident' across the road just the day before yesterday (some photos on my fotolog) The police kept us all indoors from around Noon until the evening which meant I couldn't get my car out to go to work... however they eventually let me go out over the back wall and I got a taxi... must remember to send the cost of the fare to the Chief Constable :-) What happened was that there was a disagreement between a neighbour and some youth; the youth came back with a gun... apparently though no one was seriously hurt.

Right; I'm having today off; heading for the beach. Life is good but I'm realising more every day that it's also brief... must make the most of it... 'at my back I always hear/ Times winged chariot scurrying near/ And all beyond us lie/ Deserts of vast eternity...' Who said that? Marvel? He was right anyway....

2009-01-04T03:23:00.000-08:00

I was watching telly with a friend last night when this friend said; 'Oh there's footy on! Liverpool are playing!' I went cold and suggested we go out for a walk; which we did. A comment was made as we walked; 'Don't you like sport then?' This set me thinking...

The answer is simple; yes I love sport. But for me sport has to have an element of challenge in it, an element of danger and some display of courage. I love boxing, F1 and NH Racing but totally loathe football. Footballers get (over)paid for poncing around like spoiled prima donnas for a few hours a week, between times they shag grannies (a la Rooney) or get into brawls with poor people (a la Gerrard) --- both of these comments should be prefixed with 'allegedly' of course as these professional preeners have a vanity beyond belief and would love nothing more than to get you into Court, it adds spice to their otherwise boring lives and gets their photos on the pages of the vanity-press ;-) Few of these footballers have ever done a days work in their pampered lives and few of them display any courage whatsoever. They do however spend a fortune on getting their hair-styles just so and/or having their legs and chests waxed... all football teams in the UK have a 'mascot' which is usually a small-boy whom they dress up in shorts and fondle a lot ...and after the players score a goal they all hug and kiss each other with passion prior to leaping naked into a hot tub together. Almost every close-up of them on the telly shows them spitting continuously and unfortunately the kids who emulate them emulate this disgustingly filthy habit too. I have a theory that men who watch football on the telly are latent GAYS who'd prefer to watch every match, on their own, in the dark, with a box of cleenex handy... but lets not go there.

Boxers on the other hand take their lives into their hands every time they step into a ring; think of round 14 in the third Frazier V Ali fight; Ali later commented that it was 'the closest thing to death I ever experienced' and if you watch it then you know exactly what he is talking about. It takes raw courage to step into a ring with someone whom you know has the capability of killing or maiming you; a courage the nancy-boy footballers have no notion of. Boxers are supremely fit, supremely courageous and are true athletes; that's why I admire them, why I love to watch them...

F1 drivers know that when they are taking a corner at 260 miles an hour they are within a split second of death or of being crippled for life. Count the deaths. Check the likes of Lauder who survived but are terribly maimed. Weigh these courageous human-beings against any poncy, preening footballer and see how far short the latter fall. These F1 drivers are the epitome of courage; that's why I admire them, why I love to watch them...

NH Jockies. These guys are just THE toughest human-beings on the planet. Recently I seen Tony McCoy fall from his horse and hit the hard ground face-first at close to 40 miles an hour; he broke his jaw and impacted all his lower teeth into his upper jaw. What did he do? Did he roll over and whimper 'foul' like our pathetic footballers do? No; he rode twenty minutes later in the next race and fell again! More recently; Ruby Walsh took an horrific fall; broke ribs, bust his spleen, was told he may not ride again... less than two months later he rode Kauto Star to win the Gold Cup and shrugged off his injuries as 'part of the game'. Such courage. Such sheer professionalism. A whimpy football 'star' would roll over and weep if some other player ruffles his expensively permed hair.

Different classes of human-beings.

So in short; yes I love sport, I like (as stated) F1, Boxing and NH Racing and I also admire rugby players... the latter because they appear to be real sports-persons. Go to a rugby match and you don't have to segregate the fans as they admire the 'game', rugby-spectators will applaud a good try by the opposition and don't need to be herded into segregated 'pens' like soccer-fans... and there lies another reason I don't like football; the fans. They are mainly drunken animals who love to hate the opposition; no wonder the BNP and NF have such a firm base amongst the football fraternity. I don't attend football matches but when I pass grounds on match days I notice the BNP and NF newspaper sellers doing a roaring trade. I do attend rugby matches and you never see these scum there; they wouldn't survive two minutes.

So that's it; maybe I actually love every sport with the exception of football. That's because football players are spoiled nancies and football fans are mainly territorial thugs. Besides that football is more of a 'game' than a 'sport', think on the difference; games are played by children, sports by adult men and women... I guess in the end, that's the real difference...

2008-12-30T03:52:00.000-08:00

Tra la la la la la... la la la... tis the season to be jolly... and so Jews are doing what they do best; causing murder and mayhem in Palestine. The illegal state of Zion, the only religious state in the world granted to the chosen people by GOD no less (Figure that for an insane ego!!!) has launched all out war on defenceless people already reduced to a weakened state by being starved and sanctioned for years under the 'excuse' that these deprived people are lobbing rockets at Jews. Well they aren't lobbing rockets at Jews per se; what they are doing is lobbing rockets into their own back yard where illegal Jewish land-thieves just happen to be squatting... there's a solution to this which is transparently simple; Jews; get the F*** out of their back yard and stop thieving land under the belief that some diabolical God on Heaven has granted it to you by Religious decree.

I read in one newspaper this morning that the Zionists are 'acting like nazis'. Precisely; they whinge about how badly they were treated by Nazis (and they were; I make no bones about that... alongside Gypsies, Trade Unionists, the severely disabled, Communists, the mentally ill, Russians and Socialists) but then adopt exactly the same stance as Nazis as they raise their jackboots over the heads of women and children before crushing them into callous oblivion. Despite the fact that the whole world comdemns their actions the Jews remain eyeless in Gaza and continue their pogram aimed at exterminating the Palestinian people.

Some will be annoyed that I use the term 'Jews'. I make no apology for that. It is the Jews who claim to be the 'Chosen People' and I am always both bemused and horrified by this claim; I mean what exactly is the difference between the 'Chosen People' and the 'Master Race'? ...and consider this; if God prefers the Jews above all others, if he is a racist as they claim, then what chance have the rest of us got? A God who actively favours one race above all others is a God I'd spit on and stand up to; thank F*** the Palestinians have the guts to do that! Power to them!

To lesser things; Christmas is gone. Good thing too. I had a very happy time thank you and spent it with people whom I love. I'm proud of the fact that none of us listened to the Queens' Speech or 'Carols from Kings College', that none of us said hypocritical 'grace' in thanks for our food, that none of us pretended it was all 'just for the kids', that no one wore a silly hat or told a silly joke, that we did go for a long walk before dinner and that collectively we shared the chores as opposed to the males sitting swigging ale while the women laboured in the kitchen... I look forward now to New Year then a return to sanity; my resolution will be that next year I wont even record Christmas on my calendar; maybe I'll go live on a small uninhabited Island for the whole week :-) ...sounds fun as I love my own company.

Nonetheless I wish you all a Happy 2009... it wont be for two thirds of our brothers and sisters in this Vale of Tears...

2008-12-14T09:00:00.000-08:00

Well it's been ages since I blogged... that might be because I'm not writing creatively currently; too busy with our small publishing house erbacce-press. This is a huge success and we've published over 50 books including several perfect-bound; we're working it as a cooperative so all the profits are going back into helping new writers by either subsidising them or publishing them for free. Oh and we are running an AMAZING and FREE poetry competition with a prize worth well over a thousand quid... check it out...

I'm back studying too; enjoying it, doing a Diploma in Counselling... expensive though and so I've had to register with the Nursing Bank at Aintree Hospital to earn some shekels. Oh for the good old days when Harold Wilson's Government actually paid people to go to University; but then that was a semi-socialist government not a New Tory (sorry; 'New Labour') government. Brown has taken over where Bliar left off and is currently enjoying his latest sadistic wheeze of whipping disabled working-class people while dishing out our taxes to Rich Bankers so they can pay themselves massive bonuses. It's interesting isn't it? A so-called Labour Government gives Billions of our taxes to rich banks so that these same rich banks can loan us the money back and charge us interest on it??? Can you figure out why we tolerate it? Cos I can't. In effect we tax-payers are giving money to fabulously wealthy banks so that they can charge us for borrowing it back. Weird...

Meanwhile Tony Bliar has turned Catholic (You remember Bliar? The nasty, hypocritical, right-wing, reactionary, bible-thumping war-monger who infiltrated the Labour Party in exactly the same way that Militant did while berating Militant as 'infiltrators')... he's turned Roman Catholic in the hope that he can find some forgiveness for the blood of Iraqi children which stains his hands and probably keeps him awake at night... but maybe not... It's a good deal eh? Slaughter children, destroy the world's finest art-treasures, rape a country, steal its oil... then turn Catholic and confess your sin to a priest and ALL is forgiven... can you imagine the sewer-pit of his mind? It must stink like rancid dog-shite...

Coming up to Christmas and the shops are packed every day with people buying junk as though it was the end of the world. We're in a recession you know, so naturally we buy everything we can grab in the way of consumables. My Christmas will be (happily) much like the last half dozen; I'll cook myself something delicious... might share it with some lucky lady... and I'll drink a very fine bottle of either Chablis or Burgundy depending on what I choose to eat for dinner. Boxing day I'll go for as long a walk as the weather will permit and wonder at the luck that has caused me to be part of this beautiful accident that is planet Earth... and I'll think of absent friends both alive and deceased.Life is good. I feel good. Oh and my mortgage has been paid so I'm rich(er) ha ha ha...

Bye bye readers; if you are as happy as I am you are lucky people indeed. Happy Christmas :-)

2008-03-18T01:38:00.000-07:00

Tibetan Riots

On this day the Dalai Lama squats on his lard arse in exile while his ‘peaceful’ followers, so-called Priests in saffron robes, burn, loot and attack in the most vile and racist manner, anyone unfortunate enough to not be Tibetan…

It is always useful in these circumstances, when rioters invade the streets and anger erupts, to examine Cui Bono which as you all know is a legal-Latin-term roughly translated as ‘for whose benefit?’ On the eve of the Chinese Olympic year, when the eyes of the world are upon it, who does it benefit to have these young men (and they ARE men; exclusively) riot on the streets of a Chinese province?

Well lard arse, in his exile Palace, believes he is the ‘natural’ ruler of Tibet, his desire to establish a Buddhist State where these same young men can continue to live a life of total idleness neither toiling nor contributing as they wonder through the streets begging for food; apparently it is demeaning to actually work and so they live exclusively by begging… stick a can of Tennant’s Super in their hand and they wouldn’t be out of place in any major City in the UK, but with one important difference, when their days begging is behind them they all can trundle ‘home’ to their Palaces to sleep easy on soft warm beds.

Tibet has always been a part of China, as far back as 1240 Tibet submitted to Mongol leader Godan Khan after the Mongols conquered North China… but hell, I don’t give a toss about that and nor would many right-thinking people, the more salient facts are that following the 1949-51 ‘invasion’ by China Tibet has been transformed from a feudal, religiously-controlled and bigoted serfdom into a modern country with vast rail-systems and roads and real jobs for the Tibetan people. The Chinese, for some reason I cannot fathom, still allow these idle young men in saffron robes to wander through the streets begging aggressively and contributing nothing to the economy but at least they have pointed the finger at them and labelled them for what they are; ‘idle scroungers’, and the ordinary Tibetan people are beginning to see them as they really are… this of course could be one of the reasons why these alleged peaceful disciples of the Buddha are now assaulting people and burning and looting OR, it could be that like the unthinking and unfeeling automatons they are they merely follow the orders of the Dalai Lard Arse who is eager to exploit the fact that the world is watching and looking for any excuse to undermine the last bastion of Communism.

Cui Bono. Keep that in mind when the news media talk of a ‘clamp down’ by the Chinese. Cui Bono. Keep that in mind when the ‘idle scroungers’ assault people on the streets because they are a different race. Cui Bono. Keep that in mind when the Dalai Lard Arse, in his sumptuous Palace of exile, tells you that ‘the people are rising’. Cui Bono. Keep that in mind when you watch the news-reels and see the violence perpetuated by these allegedly peaceful followers of Buddha.

And before I go; I have been on demonstrations where the UK police have attacked protesters, indeed I have felt the weight of a police baton at Saltley Gates, Imperial Typewriters, during the miner’s strikes and even as far back as Grosvenor Square; this entry in my blog does not support police-violence of any kind. All I ask that you do is actually watch the scenes, the ugly racist scenes, perpetuated on the streets of Tibetan Cities and towns by violent young males in saffron robes, and ask yourself; Cui Bono…

2008-01-03T10:36:00.000-08:00

2008 and no NY resolutions except one; never to make any NY resolutions ever again. Which is hardly original I know.

So what’s been happening since I last ranted? Simple answer is; ‘Lots’! Especially with regard to publishing. I’ve signed a contract for a new book I wrote which is a factual account of BP disorder and is called …portrait of the artist as (slightly) insane and is written in a mixture of poetry and prose.

THEN I got an offer to publish Glimpses of Notes (again) BUT unfortunately the same old bogie rose up; can’t do it in colour: too complex and too expensive. I’ve re-set it in B/W but am still not sure so to date have not signed the contract.

THEN, just, this year, I got an offer to publish/produce/check-out a play I wrote a long time ago which has a working title of Bleedin’ Alchies… contract for that went in post just today.

SO 2008 could be MY TIME!

About TIME too.

erbacce-press is now firmly established and we’ve produce nine books; I’ve designed the covers for six of them and edited and type-set all of them. Busy, busy, busy…

Work is going well; am now working as a psychotherapist about 18 hours a week and enjoying every minute even the ‘bad’ times when the going gets tough. This job has taught me one thing I only previously knew as a half-truth; I’m pretty tough.

Off to London in a couple of weeks to see La Traviata at the Covent Garden Opera House and to take in the Boat Show with a view to possibly buying a small yacht; 30/35 footer, just big enough to take me round the world…

Who’d have thought it eh?

Life is GOOD!

2007-11-12T05:51:00.000-08:00

CHARITY begins with Capitalism!

The other day a respected friend of mine asked me why I didn’t give money to ‘charity’; the question arose because currently I have more than enough money to meet my needs and actually didn’t know what to do with it. You see I have ‘enough’, I am not in any way wealthy, but at the end of each month I certainly have a few pounds left in my pockets; this friend of mine asked almost casually why I didn’t give it to ‘charity’.

This is by way of my answer to her: I have always known, deep inside, that all registered ‘charities’ are simply necessary parts of the Capitalist system; they don’t seek to do things for other people, mainly they seek to do things for themselves. Let me show you how this applies to any given registered-charity, lets examine that ancient institution; Oxfam.

Oxfam seeks, in a nutshell, to end world poverty and as I write it has hundreds of different projects ongoing; HIV strategy, the East Africa Appeal, the Tsunami fund, International Youth Project,… etc etc Each of these projects is overseen by one or more extremely highly paid ‘Directors of Projects’ and every time there is a disaster then another opportunity for a fat-cat salary emerges. (and these ARE fat-cat salaries; I’m talking here about hundreds of thousands of pounds with large expense allowances, free top-of-the-range cars and index-linked pensions) Oxfam itself is a massive business with incredible wealth; just look at the thousands of Oxfam shops throughout the country; the freehold on these shops alone, often on prime locations, is surely worth hundreds of millions… and each country that they work in has its own head-office employing typists, promotional executives, managers, cleaners and even in some countries; door-men.

What would happen to the thousands upon thousands of well paid executives, management and junior employers of Oxfam if they ever actually succeeded in their declared goal of ending world poverty? They’d be standing in mile-long queues waiting to collect their dole or they’d be relying on charity themselves. So the last thing they want to do is end world poverty it would be like turkeys voting for Christmas. The truth is that for every pound you hand to Oxfam or indeed any registered-charity you are making a generous contribution either to some ordinary typist’s salary or to some fat-cat’s food or petrol expenses or to their lucrative retirement pensions.

Oxfam also, like all the major registered-charities, invests heavily in pension funds and capital-growth. Admittedly they try to invest in allegedly ‘politically correct’ areas but nevertheless their investment swells their own massive coffers and the oligarch that it actually is grows proportionately to the success of capitalism. How much would you estimate Oxfam is actually worth? Ten Million? A billion? Certainly not less…

When you see their adverts on television urging you to ‘give generously’ do you realise that these prime-time adverts cost £160,000.00 a minute. Read that carefully; £160,000.00 per minute. And who pays for that advertising? Well sadly it is the people who send their pounds and fivers who pay for the adverts. I have no idea what proportion of the massive wealth of Oxfam actually goes to provide hand-outs to people in need but what I do know is that your pound or your fiver or even your hundred pound donation will pay for just a thousandth of a second of an advert or for dinner-expenses for some ‘Director of Project’ driving a top-range car that you’ll also be paying for.

Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against helping people out and I am sure that the people left homeless after the Tsunami or the children starving after the most recent famines are grateful indeed when a £200,000.00 Mercedes truck arrives with warm-clothing, tents or rice… and if I see someone in need you bet I help them; help them in ways I wont even list here… but I will never send a penny to any registered-charity. I’d send the money instead to some political party that actually has a REAL desire to end world poverty; by destroying the capitalist system. Because that’s the only way you’ll ever end poverty; by destroying the corrupt system which allows two-thirds of the world’s population to remain illiterate or hungry. How about adopting this as a simple slogan:

Fuck the Charities: Smash the System!

Sounds about right to me…

2007-10-23T00:56:00.000-07:00

It’s getting close to my birthday when I will be eleventy seven and three quarters! Who’d have ever thought I’d reach that age eh? And I don’t feel a day over sevenly fifth and a numpt!

I have been SO busy recently working on creating chap-books at the newly established ‘erbacce-press’ which is owned by myself and Andy Taylor… we now have six chapbooks in print and have two more up-and-coming one of which we are doing for FREE because we love the poet so much. It’s fun editing and type-setting, getting the book exactly the way the poet wants it… and I’ve been designing covers too and that as well; is FUN!

FUN FUN FUN! Life is FUN (plus a wee bit of hard work in-between)

OH! And it’s Autumn; (SEE my Autumn-colour scheme?) and no sign of a seasonal slump in mood a la S.A.D which strolls along, hand in hand, with bi-polar disorder (whatever that is?)

Anyway; today I am off to visit the Tate Gallery in Liverpool where the Turner Prize Competition is on exhibit… then later off for a walk in the crispy, cold, autumn-day-splurge-of riotous-colour. I read somewhere that the Autumn display this year will be the best ever, something to do with the damp summer and sap fading slowly or summit. Whatever; this year I will enjoy it and that feels immensely GOOD.

Bye bye everyone; catch you at a later date maybe…

I LOVE YOU ALL!

2007-09-14T20:49:00.000-07:00

I am a BIG bloke.

Now why did I write that? Well I was walking through the City yesterday and I saw a guy coming towards me; he was perhaps 6’ 3” tall and he stood out; I noticed other people glancing up at him, then as he passed I realised I was noticeably taller than him. Being 6’ 5” is something I, of course, take for granted. I ‘forget’ how big I am until something like that happens. It set me thinking; when was the last time I met anyone taller than me? And it was about two years ago in the Everyman Bistro when I met the son of the late great Margaret Simey. I guess he was about 6’ 7” and we were immediately drawn to each other; ended up sharing a bevy and a hug. I suppose it’s like being in some exclusive club.

I remember when I was in my twenties and the weekend used to end at the Somali Club in Liverpool 8. Dancing to that huge bulbous juke-box and being watched-over by Adam the Somalian owner who was just one inch shorter than me… he had an advantage though in that he always wore an axe in his belt ha ha ha. But afterwards, if I hadn’t copped off, I’d walk the streets of that alleged ‘dangerous’ part of the City at two or three in the morning without fear, often I’d walk in the middle of the road and sing. I got stopped a couple of times by 'busies' too but even they steered clear of starting any unnecessary trouble with me. I used to sometimes shout out (With no agression; just beaming a smile to the Heavens); ‘I am a man, I am powerful!’ (Some kind of insanity there or was it just ego or the sheer elation of being alive, powerful and male... and thus free to walk anywhere?)

When I was younger though it caused problems. I remember being in front of the Deemster in the Isle of Man for fighting or causing an affray; I tried to explain to him that when a gang of us got into a scrape I was always the guy who got hit first. But Deemster Kneale didn’t believe me; ‘Who is going to hit YOU first?’ he asked from behind his thin spectacles but then what-the-hell would he know? Being 5’ 2” in his high heels??? It was true though; whenever a fight started I always caught the first blow; I reckon the theory was that they had to try to take the big fella out first. Later (when I gave up street fighting) I realised that I didn’t actually need to fight; I’d just puff myself up and speak softly and people then were glad to avoid ‘trouble’.

Women seem to like tall guys too. I’m no ‘looker’ but nonetheless women find me attractive. They feel secure with me; they recognise that I AM confident. I can walk anywhere at any time and not feel even remotely afraid and that confidence radiates I guess, like some kind of lighthouse beacon. Strolling through the night with a smile on my face people seem to recognise two things; 1) I’m no danger but 2) If you start anything you’ll know you’ve been in a scrap. So now I seldom fight now, seldom need to: I walk tall and carry a large smile :-)

But today, as on most days, I will walk through the City streets and pass no one whom I’ll have to look up to. And ultimately that makes me feel good. One thing worries me though; as I look around at old people I don’t see many tall ones :-( Most of the older people are short and thin. Ah well; guess it’s better to live a quality life than a long one; and I’ve certainly had quality :-)

¡Viva los gigantes pacíficos!

2007-08-24T22:41:00.000-07:00

Exciting stuff happening this end :-) There is progress in my workplace which I can’t tell you about yet and I have also made tentative steps to see if it will be possible to set up my own psychotherapy practice; still doing the sums on that one.

I am, today, very happy; not exactly sure why but it may have something to do with the long walk I took yesterday with NO PAIN from my knee! Yippee! I went to the old Garden Festival site actually and ignoring the ‘Keep Out’ signs I spent close to three hours in there taking photos and growing increasingly incensed that we let this place fall into the current state of dereliction that it’s in. It’s on the Dingle, close to the Britannia Inn, worth a visit and if you get stopped by ‘security guards’ inside just tell them that UK citizens have a right to roam anywhere. They will then tell you that the site is ‘unsafe’ (and it is; the bridges are rotten and there are marshes and hidden streams so tread carefully); so tell them that you are taking personal responsibility for your own safety. IF they persist and try to escort you from the site it’s probably best to comply... then nip back and find another hole in the protective fence; there are many.

Right; it’s Saturday so I’m off to work very soon, I’ve a routine on Saturdays: I go in early, buy a newspaper, make myself some coffee or get a cup from the canteen, read my paper, fill in my record sheets then see first client at 9. 0’ clock... this afternoon I’ll watch racing on telly and cook myself something nice for my evening meal. Tonight it will be Gressingham duck braised in honey and black pepper. Later still I have a friend coming round for a drink so that will round the day of well.

Ahhhh; life is GOOD :-)

2007-08-19T22:16:00.000-07:00

OH NO THREE DAYS IN A ROW!

Back to the therapists as some things need further clarification:

Psychotherapist Corkish: Hullo Alan; we have about 50 minutes today; it’s your time so use it as you will.

Corkish: OK; thanks. I wrote our last session up on my blog, you know, on the internet. Then when I seen it in print it didn’t look quite right. Did you by any chance read it?

Psychotherapist Corkish: Actually I did.

Corkish: Really? Ha ha ha; so there is someone ‘out there’. How did it read to you?

Psychotherapist Corkish: It sounds as though it is important to you that it is being read by someone. And when you ask ‘How did it read to you’ that suggests that there could be different ways of reading what you have written.

Corkish: Well yes; I’m a writer and I’m very aware that anything written down can be interpreted differently by different people depending on their own perspective and their experience. What has happened to them in their lives ‘shapes’ how they react to the written word. As for it being important that it is read ‘externally’ as it were, I’m not so sure about that. In many ways this is just me getting my own head clear.

Psychotherapist Corkish: In that case it may well help you if I honestly tell you how it could possibly be read. Do you think that would help?

Corkish: Oh hell yes; I’d appreciate an honest look at another angle.

Psychotherapist Corkish: This is not necessarily my own opinion but it is a way or seeing perhaps. I could be read as stating, in a nutshell, that the writer condones illicit drug taking and sexual contact with minors?

Corkish: Oh FUCK! I’m advocating paedophilia?! Ha ha ha… mmm, need to think about that.

(Long silence)

Corkish: I suppose it could be read like that. I’m wondering if such a thought disturbs me and I guess it does. A little. I’m thinking it may all be a matter of phraseology and that what I am about to say sounds like an excuse.

Psychotherapist Corkish: It may help if you speak your thoughts, just as they surface, you may then ‘hear’ things differently.

Corkish: OK. I guess what I am thinking is that both ‘dilemmas’ are actually one dilemma. What my own morality tells me is that anyone has a right to do as they like with their own body. If you for example want to snort cocaine or pop the odd E who am I to make a judgement that you shouldn’t? And the same goes for your love-life and/or your sex-life. You’re about my age right? And how can you control who you fall in love with or are sexually attracted to? If you announce to the world that you are in love with a 30 year old woman people would probably mutter; ‘God he’s nearly twice her age.’ And I’d immediately say; ‘So fucking what?’

Psychotherapist Corkish: I’m hearing you say that in your moral opinion people should be free to do as they will with their own bodies. Do I have that right? Shoot me down if I’m on the wrong track.

Corkish: Mmmm; when you say it back I begin to pick holes in the statement immediately. I was about to expand and say that if you announced you were in love with a 15 year old girl, or boy for that matter, people would not only mutter; ‘God he’s nearly four times her/his age’ they’d also be ringing the police to have you arrested. And would I then be saying, if you were in love with a human being who is so young; ‘So fucking what?’

(Long silence)

Corkish: Thanks for not interrupting there; I was away somewhere else arguing internally... I have surfaced with a feeling that it’s all to do with how mature or immature each individual is. I was a teacher for close to 20 years and during that time I was mainly teaching kids aged between 11 and 18. I can tell you that there were some 14 year olds who were certainly mature enough to make their own decisions with regard to what they did to their bodies, and they did. But there were also some kids as old as 18 who were, in my opinion, still too immature to even know when it was safe to cross the road. But then I was faced with a horrible dilemma; who was I to interfere? What right did I have to impose my own morality upon them? To decide whether I judged them to be mature or immature? I did make such ‘observations’ or framed ‘opinions’ as to their fitness to make certain decisions I know that. But I don’t think I ever turned my opinions into any kind of actions. Mmmm; I guess the key word there is ‘impose’. I have my own moral view-point and I’ll defend it strongly but I would never impose it upon anyone. How could I?

Psychotherapist Corkish: So if I make a moral decision to take illicit drugs or to have illicit sexual contact with a minor you seem to be saying; that is my decision.

Corkish: Well not just your decision obviously. As regards sex you can’t ‘decide’ to have sex with someone; it has to be a mutual decision or it becomes rape and that is clearly unacceptable. Even with illicit drugs someone else usually has to decide whether or not to supply you and again it would be wrong for someone to say; spike your drink with E or whatever. That was how it was with that old-flame of mine whom I spoke to you about at the last session actually; I mean she didn’t have any contacts but she wanted the drug. I had the contacts. I am very well aware that taking the drug she desired, it was just weed actually, marijuana, controlled and alleviated her urge to drink alcohol. That was what she said anyway and I had no reason to disbelieve her. And I had seen her when she was alcohol dependent and it was horrible; it near killed her. So I had to decide whether or not I would either get her some dope or pass to her the phone number of a dealer. I had to decide. No one else could do that for me. I honestly didn’t have any problems with that; I actually got her some stuff myself and passed it on.

Psychotherapist Corkish: You made a moral decision; based on all the information you had, to break the law?

Corkish: Yes I did. And had no problems with it. I think it was equally easy with regard to Beth and Pete. I sure as hell wasn’t going to interfere with their own moral decisions, I wasn’t going to have the perv-police banging on Pete’s door and arresting him because he had fallen in love with a person whom the law says was not old enough to have sex. That never even entered my head and I look upon people who would pass such judgements as being lower-than-the-lowest. But then I have to consider where would I draw the line? I mean if she had been 14? Or 13? Or 6!? I mean can a six year old decide what is to be done with his or her own body?

Psychotherapist Corkish: In all this I see you wrestling with two opposites; on the one hand you don’t feel that as far as moral decisions are concerned you have a right to interfere but on the other hand, when it gets to realities, and then you mention a child of 6, then your own certainties begin to waver. You take an opposite point of view. Have I got that right?

Corkish: Yes and no. But it’s becoming clearer. When I look at any six year old my brain tells me that it would damage that child to snort coke or to have any kind of sexual encounter. But the problem surfaces in my mind as a kind of absurdity when we have ‘borderline’ cases. Ha ha ha; imagine this scenario. One of my own daughters was born at just after midnight. Imagine on the eve of her sixteenth birthday she decides to have sex with her English teacher, so they go to bed at 11.30 of an evening and lie there waiting for it to be just after midnight before they do the deed! Ha ha ha; it’s absurd isn’t it? At midnight ‘the Law’ says ‘Too immature’ and one minute later ‘the Law’ says; ‘Fine; go to it’! Ha ha ha ha She could equally well become pregnant or catch some STD when she is one minute older couldn’t she? And then I hear a voice saying to me; ‘This is sophism Corkish; the Law is there to protect minors’ and of course that is true but I also hear myself arguing back that ‘The Law is a fucking ass! It can not under any circumstances rule on moral decisions!’

Psychotherapist Corkish: A kind of monkey talk. We’ve spoken about this in the past.

Corkish: Yes, that mindless chatter that goes on eternally inside everyone’s head. And it is partially that but I think it sounds more like a real debate, not ‘chatter’. To me at least it is an absurdity which I will have no part of. I will not judge other human-beings and make a ruling, by inserting an age-limit in the case of sex or an arbitrary and often hypocritical decision in the case of drugs that such-and-such an activity is not to be undertaken because ‘the Law’ says you mustn’t. I mean in the case of drugs for Christ’s sake; alcohol is the real killer. The media whinges on about E and Coke and Heroin deaths while every week more people die of alcohol consumption than have ever died in totality from so-called illegal drugs. The hypocrisy of some Judge sentencing a heroin addict to prison as he sips at his gin-and-tonic just infuriates me!

Psychotherapist Corkish: Again I just want to be sure that I am with you. You seem to be saying, and please tell me if I haven’t got this right, you seem to be saying that each individual has a right to make their own moral decisions insofar as they themselves are concerned?

Corkish: That sounds about right. I make my moral decisions. You make yours. And never the twain shall meet. Or more correctly; never the one shall interfere with the other. I guess that sounds a bit like anarchy eh? Do what you feel is right and fuck ‘the Law’? Hmmm; maybe that’s it, maybe I’ve woven my way through the Liberals as a kid, to the Labour Party briefly, to the Communist party as a mature human-being and now, in ripe age, I’m a bloody anarchist ha ha ha.

Psychotherapist Corkish: All that you have been politically in the past has led you to where you are now? Is that it?

Corkish: Yep. That’s it. In the same way that all that happened to me as a child, the depravation, the poverty, the abuse, led me to where I am now. Everything shaped me to be me and I, and I alone, am responsible for who I am now and what I do now. I make my own decisions to take a bit of recreational substances when I feel like it and if I ever fall in love with someone whom society judges to be ‘too young’ or whom ‘the Law’ says to be ‘immature’ it is I who will decide how to progress. Me. Me is responsible for Me. Not good English but the correct conclusion. What do you think?

Psychotherapist Corkish: I think that our time is very nearly up. How are you feeling right now?

Corkish: I was going to beam at you then and say ‘Never felt better’. But there is still a niggling part of that damned monkey-chatter which says; ‘You’d better go over that again Corkish; many people will find it dodgy logic’ ha ha ha. But for now I’ll live with that. I’m getting there. Thanks as always for not judging me.

2007-08-19T00:53:00.000-07:00

NOW what’s this all about then? No entries for a billion years then here we go with another entry immediately after yesterdays. There is a reason for that and I shall endeavour to explain it to myself in the hope that it becomes clearer to myself if to no one else.

Sit down Corkish; you are about to be psychoanalysed by your self!

Corkish: Now then; upon re-reading yesterday’s entry it dawned on me that hiding from you lot out there certain ‘things’ because I am different may have sounded a bit ‘creepy’. IF there is anyone out there (and I doubt there is) it may be that they are thinking that I am hiding things because they are distasteful to ME; that I myself am afraid or even ashamed of my own self…

Psychotherapist Corkish: You worry about what the other people out there may think. You fear they will misunderstand or come to conclusions that give a false perspective.

Corkish: Partly that; it’s not exactly ‘fear’ though because I am (literally) fearless; I don’t care what others actually think about me and I always speak my mind. I guess it’s more me wrestling internally with exactly who I am and at my age that seems like something I should have gotten over decades ago.

Psychotherapist Corkish: Is there a sense in which you are unsure about how you yourself feel about being so ‘different’?

Corkish: Yes; I think that may be it. I mean I might as well tell you what is ‘different’ about me because this is all in confidence right? OK: two things spring to mind and they are to do with taboos I guess.

Firstly I have a real problem accepting society’s ‘norms’ with regard to drugs laws. As you know, once upon a time I had a serious drugs and alcohol problem but I got over that and now am (contentedly) a controlled drinker who takes the odd illegal-substance to be sociable or to relax. And I’m fine with that, really, no problems at all. BUT quite recently I met up with an old-flame whose alcohol problems have now been overcome but only because she resorts to what I would call ‘recreational drugs’. She has problems accessing these drugs and told me that she feared when she didn’t have them she might resort again to alcohol which she says will ‘kill me’. Because I myself mix with a really broad spectrum of people I have easy access to any substance under the sun and that presents a dilemma; do I get some stuff for her? Or do I pass on a dealer-contact? I wrestle with that because I know (as a professional) that if I did and it came to light I’d lose my job and I am good at my job.

Psychotherapist Corkish: You paused and looked thoughtful; do I sense this dilemma is still ongoing?

Corkish: No. I resolved it in keeping with my own morality and am content to live with any outcome.

Psychotherapist Corkish: You resolved the dilemma with regard to your ‘old-flame’ who you believed needed either some substances which are or may be illegal and are content with that. You are content with what you have decided.

Corkish: Content to live with the outcome. Maybe not so content with the way people might view me if they knew what I was doing.

Psychotherapist Corkish: ‘Did you say you were ‘fearless’ and that you don’t care what others think? Does that sit well with perhaps not being content with the way others may view you?

Corkish: Good point. I guess it’s deeper than that. It stems back to my past when my not-giving-a-damn hurt other people, people I love. Even hurting others then didn’t bother me but now, even though I am true to my own morality, I am much more concerned with not hurting other people whom I love. Do you see what I mean?

Psychotherapist Corkish: Your dilemma centres now around an emerging feeling that other people’s feelings, people close to you and whom you love, is in some way at odds with your core moral beliefs. Or maybe more that the clear black-and-white moral determinates are now shading to grey.

Corkish: Not exactly the latter, but that’s partially it. I shall ponder that and maybe we can come back to it. Anyway; I said there were two ‘taboos’ worrying me didn’t I? The other is to do with sexual morality ha ha ha; I guess I’m obsessed with ‘morality’ eh and maybe that’s right. I remember one woman whom I lived with who told me when she left; ‘I left because living with you was like living with my conscience’ and I know exactly what she meant. I am confident that I have moderated somewhat since we parted but I still tend to examine most things from my own moral-standpoint and to totally ignore society’s accepted ‘norms’. And to go further I do that because I arrogantly think society’s norms are all bullshit.

Psychotherapist Corkish: ‘arrogantly’?

Corkish: Well, maybe that word is a bit unbalanced or out-of-place, it doesn’t seem like arrogance to me but maybe it does to other people. Sometimes if I sit back and observe me I don’t like me very much and my own positivity sometimes scares me a bit. But that’s how I am; I’m certain that my own morality bares examination. Even with this other thing I am sure that I am right.

Psychotherapist Corkish: This other thing? The second ‘taboo’? You are sure you are right about your own morality?

Corkish: Yes. It’s to do with another girl. She’s a friend of a woman I am very fond of, my friend treats this girl as her daughter. We three went for lunch together (the girl is 15 by the way) and we all had great fun. Then my friend kind of dropped me in it by eliciting me without any warning as someone who would ‘frown’ on the younger girl’s current activities. Can I call the girl Beth just for convenience? It’s not her real name.

Psychotherapist Corkish: By all means. I sense that perhaps you didn’t ‘frown’ upon her activities at all? Is that correct or am I way off the mark?

Corkish: You are spot-on. I was actually much more annoyed at my friend that at Beth. Let me explain what the problem was/is: Beth had, like many girls do, a ‘crush’ on her English Teacher who was actually a student-teacher when they first met; he was I think about 24 and Beth was 14. Anyway it seems Beth met him one day when she was outside of school and she accepted his offer of a lift home in his car when it began to rain. Clearly it soon emerged that her ‘crush’ was in some way reciprocated and although nothing specific was said they swapped phone numbers. That was probably unwise on his part but what the hell; Beth aged 15 seemed remarkably mature to me and anyway one of my tenets is that people have to decide their own morality and stand by it.

Psychotherapist Corkish: So when you heard this story; you concluded that the teacher was ‘unwise’ but it didn’t unduly disturb you.

Corkish: Well it sure as hell didn’t disturb me as much as my friend’s presumption that I would support her condemnation of Beth did! That bloody infuriated me but I was kind of trapped.

Psychotherapist Corkish: You spat that out. I got a feeling of real anger there.

Corkish: I was bloody angry. Still am. How dare anyone presume my morality? But I sat there and listened while my friend humiliated Beth by explaining to her in the most patronising terms how I was a psychotherapist and might be able to help her see that what she was doing was wrong. It became clear (though it wasn’t actually said) that Beth and this teacher had embarked on an affair and I was delighted to see that Beth quickly got over her embarrassment and looking at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye asked me for my ‘advice’. However I wriggled out of it; stated it was none of my business, which kind of angered my friend. Lot of anger here eh? Ha ha ha.

Psychotherapist Corkish: What happened to dissipate your own anger?

Corkish: Well it was a quick realisation that Beth, who is now incidentally a good friend of mine, was at least as mature as my 40yr old friend. As we said our goodbyes Beth asked for my phone number so she could seek my ‘advice’ on some other things and with my friend’s rapid nod of approval I handed her my business card. She got in touch the same day and immediately apologised for me having been put in a spot.

Psychotherapist Corkish: So now you and Beth are ‘good friends’? How did your friendship develop?

Corkish: We met, had lunch, I took her to meet some poet friends, eventually she introduced me to the English teacher and I’ll call him Peter. The crux of it all was/is that they have been having a relationship, sexual AND loving, since Beth was just 15. They told me they were in love. By the way Peter does not teach at her school now. To his credit he left before their affair became sexual and moved to another school.

Psychotherapist Corkish: ‘To his credit’?

Corkish: Yes, I saw that as showing respect for Beth’s feelings. Anyway; the point is, to put it crudely, I now have knowledge that a practising teacher is having a sexual affair with a girl who is under the legal age of consent. They are both now people whom I call ‘friend’. They know what they are doing, have tried to explain things to Beth’s real Mum (but without success so far) and plan to get married. I hope I get an invite. I WILL get an invite! But fuck me I have to keep my knowledge secret as do they and it all seems wrong!

Psychotherapist Corkish: That anger is evident again. Who is it aimed at?

Corkish: Oh society I guess; how the fuck can you make a law with regard to sexual love? How can you make a law which says that two people can’t express their love sexually because she is 15 and he is (now) 26? It just seems crazy to me! AND I guess what angers me most is that society makes me collude by forcing me to keep quiet about it. Let me tell you that both Peter and Beth love one another immensely, it’s clear to anyone with a brain. Beth is mature enough to know what she is doing and I resent the fact that they have to have sordid meetings in hotels or in his car.

Psychotherapist Corkish: Your anger stems from the way they are being treated by society but also because society some how compromises you and your own moral certitudes.

Corkish: Exactly!

Psychotherapist Corkish: Our time is coming to an end; is there anything you feel you need to add before we conclude this session?

Corkish: Just thanks for listening and thanks for not judging me. I think I understand better where I am; it hasn’t been cathartic but it has helped me understand myself. And I’m going to post this on my Blog; maybe it will provoke a re-action? Who knows. Though I suspect, as I said elsewhere, that in reality there is no one else out there ha ha ha.

2007-08-18T02:50:00.000-07:00

Well it’s about a million years since I posted to this Blog. Time is THE enemy I guess or maybe what has been happening in my life I can’t write about here in a public forum. Yeh I know that sounds mystic but I am different to most people; I’m a human-being who acts by my own internal morals and clock so that often I seem to be ‘odd’. But that’s OK; I don’t mind and increasingly most of my friends and loved ones are accepting me just as I am (BUT there are still things I can’t write about herein ha ha ha ;-))

Writing: I’ve produced a chap-book which was fun; designed the cover, wrote the 70 poems, did the type-setting and now have sent copies to the people I love. It was a fun exercise and I guess it got rid of some money; it’s called Bum-Rap. I seem to have enough of the latter as I get older. If you know me you’ll know I’m not at all rich but I have ‘enough’ and as the cliché goes ‘enough is as good as a feast’; thus in this life of mine I am involved in a continual feast which can’t be bad. :-)

Writing also involves erbacce of course which I edit with Andy Taylor; we are expanding into producing chap-books and of course Bum-Rap is an imprint of erbacce publications. Selecting and type-setting poetry is wonderfully soothing and I can easily spend an eight-hour stretch on my PC without even realising where the time has gone; the finished erbacce journals are now highly professional and polished and carry the slogan; ‘Proudly independent since May-Day 2004’ which is cool. .

Working hard now for my full-accreditation as a psychotherapist and have a wealth of wonderful clients who are teaching me a lot. It’s odd how perceptions change when you are faced with someone you expect to act in a certain manner. Schizophrenics for example; I devour the label and prepare to meet someone ‘odd’ or ‘different’ and then lo-and-behold I meet someone who is more ‘normal’ than most people I’ve met. I have quickly grown to distrust ‘labels’; now I don’t even look at clients' files because that may raise in me preconceptions or expectations. Have to say it is the most rewarding job I have ever done (except for when I was a coal-digger and could steal coal ;-) )

Working also at developing my massage techniques. I have discovered that foot-massage is incredibly relaxing and am toying with the idea of somehow incorporating it into psychotherapy when I set up my own Private Practice (watch this space ;-) )

Love-life however is (currently)zero. Well I mean I take women out for meals and to the opera and theatre… and I spend loads of time with the opposite sex who are close to me but there is no one ‘special’ and indeed when I think about it, how the hell could there be. I seem to have a knack for falling in love with unsuitable people OR (more likely) I am totally unsuitable for women. Yeh the latter gets my vote I guess.

That’s it. Boring fucking Blog entry over. When will I be able to write the WHOLE scenario eh? I guess when society catches UP with me on the evolutionary scale! Ha ha ha ;-)

2007-05-01T00:52:00.000-07:00

Today I want to talk about PAIN.

Real pain, pain which debilitates to the extent where suicide becomes a real possibility.

Many many years ago I had an accident, nasty business; short fall, scaffold pole, hole in my gut and several lower bones in my spine fractured and chipped. I had to give up working as a Mason which was a shame as I always enjoyed manual work; I was very strong and I enjoyed physical exertion; used to love those silly games we played on building sites; lifting bags of cement and lintels overhead or seeing how many bricks you can stack in a hod and carry up a ladder. But then I became a teacher, a writer and now a psychotherapist… and each of these I enjoy to so I’m not complaining overmuch.

Over the years I’ve been in-and-out of hospitals getting physiotherapy and traction and manipulation but the pain never leaves. I repeat that; the pain NEVER leaves. Sometimes it is bearable and sometimes I even forget about it for brief periods but even then it is sitting silently waiting to interrupt pleasure.

What’s this pain like then? Well, last night it was about as bad as it gets; it was like someone taking a long, slender, razor-sharp filleting knife and inserting it slowly into my lower back; then, when the knife is wedged between bones, deep in the cartilage, it is twisted and vibrated until the pain fills all of my spine right up to my neck then down my right arm and both legs. The legs become numb and it’s difficult to walk so I strap on a heavy weight-lifter’s belt and can then at least climb the stairs to lie on the floor by my bed. It’s fatal to get into the bed; if I did that then experience tells me that I’d be there for days and that can be painful and embarrassing; use your imagination…

About 12 years ago I was told by an orthopaedic specialist that in five years I’d be in a wheel chair; but I aint, and I never will be. The pain-unit at Walton Pain Centre was brilliant; they told me to ignore all past advice to rest when the pain descended and instead to exercise. They explained that as my bones weren’t strong enough to carry my weight (and I’m a big lad; 6’ 5” tall and over 220lbs) I had to develop extra strong lower-back muscles. I remember the first day I hobbled in there; the physiotherapist who greeted me took my walking-crutches away and said; ‘You won’t need them, not ever, they will keep you crippled…’ Then she made me exercise and exercise and exercise. Almost all day now I am exercising; if I’m sitting talking to you (or more likely standing talking to you) I’m flexing my lower spine and my buttocks continuously (The ladies say that’s why I have a very nice bum ha ha ha) But there is a downside to all this exercising and walking and keeping on my feet as much as possible and that is that I get exhausted. Last night the pain returned with a vengeance when I was very tired and I just couldn’t muster the energy to get up and walk. Instead I sat on the settee exhausted and in debilitating pain, I guess that sheer will-power eventually got me on my feet again and allowed me to hobble to the door and walk the midnight streets of Liverpool for an hour. Fear walks with me too; because I sometimes fear that my will-power will give out and what then? It doesn’t bear thinking about…

This may sound like an enormous whinge but what the hell, few people read this blog anyway and I write in here for ME anyway not for anyone else. Last night was the worst it has been for quite some time but my back didn’t lock (When it locks it’s an ambulance and into hospital which I dread)… as I sat there I tried to analyse just what the pain felt like and that’s when I imagined that filleting knife doing its business. And now, as I sit upright in a firm chair typing this, the pain has reduced to a sort of stiffness which locks my shoulders and neck and leaves my legs numb; I am sure I’ll be OK after I’ve gone for a walk in an hour or so… but then I have that fucking knee injury which stops me walking as far and as fast as I need to; ha ha ha; I’m falling apart! HELP!

It feels better to have written it down but I know I haven’t got it right; I may be a writer but the description of the pain doesn’t adequately explain the accompanying fear, despair and hey; I just got it: the LONLINESS. That’s it! YES! Because I look OK no one realises how much pain I’m in almost continuously and so I guess I am isolated; locked in a world occupied by me and that despicable, torturous pain... my pain makes me lonely! YES; writing really is therapeutic for this human-being; I’ve identified what I hadn’t realised and that can’t be at all bad. Thank you sisters for teaching me to read and write, moving your fingers along the words in those tattered comics, newspapers and books all those years ago has helped me NOW to understand myself better.

Today is May Day; a day set aside to celebrate The Workers. I was a manual worker and I enjoyed that and I miss being able to lift heavy weights, miss most of all not being able to lift the woman I love into the air and swing her around even though she’s a wee mite :-) But hey I have SO much; my brain is fine and fertile, I eat good food, the sun is shining and I’m of the opinion that I’ll still be going strong (relatively) in thirty or forty years time and who knows, maybe a miracle will happen some day and I’ll wake up pain-free but until then I’ll keep fighting it; there’s only one alternative and I enjoy my life too much to contemplate that.

Happy May Day everyone!!!

2007-04-12T00:53:00.000-07:00

Aintree NH meeting begins today and I'll be WORKING :-( Bad timing that but yes, the meeting starts at 2.0pm and goes through til 5.30 and I start work at 12.30pm and go through until 7.30 but NEVER MIND: there's always tomorrow and the Grand National itself on Saturday. The course is withing a mile or so of my home but I've only been once to the Grand National meeting; it gets too crowded, they seem to let anyone in, no I'll watch it on telly I think...

I wonder if horses have memories? I wonder if horses come to the National and think; 'Fuck me I ran round here last year and nearly got killed when I fell at the Foinavon fence... ugh!' But wouldn't a memory entail some kind of language? Or is it possible to remember JUST in pictures? What would a memory without language be like anyway? Try it if you can, try to remember what you did an hour ago but don't 'use' language in that memory. To me it doesn't make sense. An hour ago I had a bath. How could I envisage a 'bath' without the word 'bath'? If I come across something I've never seen ever before I still allocate it a 'name'. For example I'm walking in the woods and I come across a flower I've never seen before, but at least I know it's a 'flower'... what if I came across some totally new object? Well then I'd 'name' it 'a totally new object'. JUST to perceive it without language is impossible to me. So then, maybe horses (and my cat) have different kinds of memory; but what that might be we could only guess at.

On a similar theme my friend talks about her dog 'dreaming'. She concludes this because the dog twitches and makes low growling sounds with its eyes closed... my friend expands on this; she says things like; 'He chased a rabbit this afternoon and he's dreaming about that...' I look at her; but say nothing (she can sulk for Britain ha ha ha)... But all she observes is the dog, with its eyes closed, twitching and growling; ALL else is illogical supposition... but try and tell her that :-) I guess that she will die believing that the Mut dreams; mmmm Did someone once say; 'Where ignorance is bliss; tis folly to be wise'? Well if they did they are the biggest, dumbest, ostrich-head in the world!

To other meanderings: friends are arriving from the USA soon and I'm looking forward to that; Tom is an artist and a long time ago we shared many experiences together. I was married at the time and now and then he'd come round for a meal; one Sunday morning my wife and I woke to hear someone in the kitchen; it was Tom, weighed down with vegetables and meat and he cooked us 'hobo-stew' :-) He used to smoke a corncob pipe and as he worked on a milk-round he was up early and finished early; hence he was in the pub early :-) If I got pissed-off with work (which I often did) I knew that Tom would be sitting in the Commie and that often gave me the inspiration to say to the boss; 'I am jacking in now; if you don't like it shove your job up your arse!' Ahhh the good old days when jobs were plentiful and that sort of thing wasn't an undreamt off luxury :-)

2007-03-15T01:20:00.000-07:00

DEEP depression! :-(

No not clinical; just fed up, pissed off and feeling sorry for myself. Why? Tuesday I was stuck in A and E for five hours in agony; my knee, which I'd thought was healing well, suddenly started to flare up again; it got hot, stiff, swollen, PAINFUL! Eventually they X-rayed it again and discovered a splinter of bone wedged between the joints. Of course they can do nothing except try to speed up my place on the waiting list to have it all sliced up so they strapped tightly again and allowed me to hobble home. This may sound like an enormous moan about something trivial but it isn't. I'll tell you why...

A long time ago I had a heart attack; two actually, one minor the other a whopper which nearly carried me off to the worm-food factory. So I was advised to eat sensible and to exercise which I did. I tried swimming but have you ever heard of anything so boring? Trapped in a brick shed with a 50 metre pool and dozens of screaming kids; ploughing up and down looking at the exciting scenery; like walls, and more walls... I soon learnt how a goldfish felt. So I began walking, discovered how beautiful the woods, beaches, canals and parks around Liverpool were and actually enjoyed it; I take photos, walk briskly, breath in clean air and feel better all round. I tried to do two or three 5-8 mile walks each week and as a result I lost weight, felt fit, had no concerns for my dicky-ticker at all. But since my leg was demolished by that dumb sick-van that hit me (Oh OK; it wasn't demolished just thrown-out-of-kilter) I haven't been able to wal and that's been close to three months now. The NHS waiting list indicates that I might actually get the operation in about a year but by that time I could be a physical wreck. So you can see how it worries me.

Anyway; to happier things. Tuesday night (with leg strapped up) I went to the inaugural lecture by the newly promoted Professor Robert Sheppard at Edge Hill University; it was packed with beautiful people I haven’t seen for years; Dr Jacqueline Philips who now lives way down South, Paul who has just completed his first novel, Ursula (brilliant poet), Colin an old mate from the MA course (we’re back in touch again now via email) and Alice looking radiant and speaking enthusiastically about re-starting her wonderful journal Neon Highway and oh so many many more blasts-from-the-past including Andy who co-edits erbacce with me and whom I haven't spoken to face-to-face for aeons. They all trooped off to the Pub afterwards which I couldn’t manage as I’d have been a grump (pain in that leg… OK I wont mention it again you unfeeling bastards!!!) AND the lecture was great; Rob was stimulating, witty, controversial and political; he drank wine to refresh his throat and part way through dumped his tie and jacket to launch into some of his frantic, earnest and provocative poetry.. I LOVED IT!

And today? Well today is sunny and I wish I could be out walking and I would be if it wasn't for this (XXXXXX xxxxxxx XXXXXX xxxxx ...this section deleted by the internal editor as Corkish was about to talk about his knee again)... I guess my life is good. Despite total lack of love life and a feeling of 'emptiness' which is not entirely due to my being incarcerated indoors most of each day due to K - N - E -E... but then I guess when yer down, the only way is up... so here goes; 'Up, up, up and away Super-Corkish! Don't let the bastards, bitches and liars get you down... shazammmmmmmmm...''

2007-02-18T09:03:00.000-08:00

Every body shout 'Hurrah!' Why? Cos today I dragged myself out for a longish walk :-) Since I got knocked over and tore ligaments in my knee I have been unable to walk more than a few hundred yards; so walking has been restricted to hobbling round the local park or shuffling round Sainsbury :-( BUT today I walked to the Leeds-Liverpool canal and set off walking from Bootle to Litherland. OK; not far, perhaps 5 miles in all (there and back) but it felt WONDERFUL. Of course as I sit here typing and waiting for the bath to fill my knee is swollen like a flipping balloon and VERY sore; no doubt my physiotherapist will scream volumes at me tomorrow. But I DON'T CARE! I NEED to bloody well walk, to listen to the birds and feel the cold winter breezes on my cheek, to see the beauty of the catkins and the pussywillows. Hey, I spent about twenty minutes watching two coots; she on the new-built nest in the bullrushes and he driving off other males and offering her tempting bits of reeds to add to the nest... clearly no one has told them it's still winter and to be fair it didn't seem like Winter today; sunny and not too cold... lucky love-birds; I hope they survive and have some great chicks :-)

Life is GOOD. I have lost a lot over the past weeks; lost maybe something, someone, that I'll never ever get over... maybe... but I am no longer part of a lie that I had been part of for close to seven years. I hope the person involved realises that the lie would have destroyed us sooner or later; so I cut-the-bonds... it was hard, very hard, but it had to be done. If she loves me, as she so often professed, she'll find a way... I can do nothing further except get on with my life. Which is what I am doing.

Ahh that hot bath is ready; some radox in it, soak for an hour, listen to some music (There are Nine Million Bicycles in Beijing)... and I have a whole chicken stuffed with about fifty whole cloves of garlic slow roasting in the oven... life is good.

I LOVE LIFE!

2007-01-01T05:11:00.000-08:00

They've sentenced Saddam, hanged him, filmed it, buried him. He came across as a man unafraid of death; quite dignified in fact. But I bet when Bush and Blair face the gallows they'll squeal and whinge like the true cowards they are.

Anyway, I suppose I should say HAPPY NEW YEAR. I went out on the pop last night with three lovely ladies who dragged me from my seclusion late at night. Thoroughly enjoyed it too until it came time to get home when I found myself at 3.30 in the morning in the South end of Liverpool, hobbling on my stick, unable to get a taxi. Took me over two hours to walk home and this morning my knee is swollen and very painful. Serves me right, I should have maybe taken up the offer to stay the night with lovely lady number one but I am sadlled with being in love elsewhere... for now.

NEW YEAR RESOLUTION: Just one; to progress my life, not to hang around waiting for control-freaks and whimps... I have around 20 to 30 years left on this planet, minimum, I have decided that I want to enjoy it to the full and if that means excluding people who have no guts then that is what I'll have to do. To that end I sat this morning with a huge beaker of coffee and made some plans; get this University diploma, enrol for the MSc at Keele, sign on at Faz to do my accreditation hours for BACP, then work as a professional psychotherapist either here, or in some other country. Ideally these plans would include a certain woman but if she procrastinates further then I'll just move on without her... maybe find someone else, maybe not. I have lived alone for 15 years now, it's possible I function better like that. So what other countries have I been thinking of? Well I doubt the USA would have me as they expelled me once (a long story; bore you with it some other time)... Ireland has some small appeal as does Scotland but they're both as damp and cold as this dump of a country... maybe France, a very civilised place to live... but Spain seems favourite or maybe Italy; it would have to be close to or in a major city though; Barcelona would be brilliant... but we shall see; I have time now to think about it and to know that my plans do not have to include anyone else... and that is good to know. Accreditation and the MSc will take until 2008 so plenty of time to plan the fine details. Must make it clear though that by choice I would have the woman I love with me; but have decided that she is weak, she will always find an excuse to do nothing... that is sad.

As for today; there is racing from Cheltenham on the telly. Had my leg been better I'd have driven down, visited my sisters, phoned the woman I love and had a cool day out there... as it is I shall watch it on the box with my leg on a stool and an ice pack on my knee to try and get the swelling down. Happy New Year to everyone; I remember you all today with much love; especially absent friends and the kids we are murdering for oil throughout the world; one day we'll put an end to all this greed and start to plan a world-economy... til then I'm 'yours for the Revolution'. Alan

2006-12-25T00:43:00.000-08:00

Christmas Day; a day to over-eat, over-drink and to watch crap television. I'd be out walking but for this damn leg which is still strapped up so I'll content myself with greeting you all with the words of my Christmas Hero who when his nephew wished him a Merry Christmas replied with the immortal words; 'Bah! Humbug!' And it really is isn't it? A load of humbug.

The Queen will read a message to her 'nation' at some time today; in it she will undoubtedly refer to 'our brave troops' when in fact they are mainly cowardly thugs. Such is life; take a wage to kill anyone that you're told to kill and, providing you take an oath to the queen and wear a uniform you're automatically labelled a 'hero'... but wear a suit and smother five prostitutes (I don't think he was paid to do it) and you're labelled a 'beast'... Me? I can't see the difference except that one killer gets paid and swears s/he loves the Monarchy and the other is probably a religious nut.

The house across the road from me has festive lights draped all over it which drive me nuts. One of the strangest bits of it is a helicopter with its bright red rotor blades whirring??? I mean what's that got to do with Christmas or did I get it wrong and the three wise men actually didn't arrive on camels and instead borrowed Cliff Richards private copter? I am VERY tempted to buy myself an air rifle and severely disable the whole display but there are hundreds such examples of bad-taste all over Liverpool and probably all over the UK and maybe even all over the world; depressing. People wash their jam-jars and gather their newspapers to recycle and help stop global warming... but come Christmas they happily blaze away thousands of watts into the ether without a thought for the melting ice-caps. Are they all thick?

Anyway; I feel obliged to deliver my own Christmas Message so here it is:

This world is a small chunk of rock and you're on it for a mere fragment of a thousandth of an eye-blink. You can't do anything that will make any difference or stop it one day boiling away to star-dust when the sun explodes so enjoy your life; have respect for all living creatures and walk lots if you can.

That's it. Bye until next year :-)

2006-12-15T23:31:00.000-08:00

University has ended which is wonderful and we all had a meal and some drinks together last Wednesday which was also wonderful... BUT; would you believe it on Thursday I was coming out of work when I walked into the path of an ambulance which hit my right leg and sent me sprawling. I've torn ligaments in my right knee, hurt my back and have a large bump on my head where it connected with the tarmac! OUCH! Hence I am hobbling on a stick with my knee strapped tight and I tell you; it hurts like hell.

For no reason other than that I request it off you; please include Alma and Louisa in your prayers if you pray.

Today the news is that several US States have suspended death-by-lethal-injection following the revelation that a man took close to forty minutes to die when they executed him yesterday. Bloody Yanks; they used to electrocute 'criminals' (usually BLACK 'criminals') until there was outrage when it was revealed that frequently the victim's heads burst into flames. Ugh; what a bloody uncivilsed lot the Yanks are eh? War Criminal Bush seems to take great pleasure in signing death warrants; some time ago he ordered the execution of a boy with the metal age of 11. Sometimes I just hope that there IS a God and that s/he's wrathful, then bastard Bush and the other warmonger Bliar will get theres good style. I remember when Ruth Ellis was executed in this country in 1962 Cassandra wrote about her death in the Daily Mirror. It's worth reproducing his article below in the hope that some dumb Yanks may read it and feel some semblance of shame.

The woman who hangs today.

Daily Mirror: July 13th 1955. Cassandra (William Neil Connor)

It’s a fine day for haymaking. A fine day for fishing. A fine day for lolling in the sunshine. And if you feel that way - and I mourn to say that millions of you do - it’s a fine day for a hanging.

IF YOU READ THIS BEFORE NINE O’ CLOCK THIS MORNING, the last dreadful and obscene preparations for hanging Ruth Ellis will be moving up to their fierce and sickening climax. The public hangman and his assistant will have been slipped into the prison at about four o’ clock yesterday afternoon.

There, from what is grotesquely called ‘some vantage point’ and unobserved by Ruth Ellis, they will have spied upon her when she was at exercise ‘to form an impression of the physique of the prisoner’.
A bag of sand will have been filled to the same weight as the condemned woman and it will have been left hanging overnight to stretch the rope.

IF YOU READ THIS AT NINE O’ CLOCK, then - short of a miracle - you and I and every man and woman in the land with a head to think and a heart to feel will, in full responsibility, blot this woman out.

The hands that place the white hood over her head will not be our hands. But the guilt - and guilt there is in all this abominable business - will belong to us as much as to the wretched executioner paid and trained to do his job in accordance with the savage public will.

IF YOU READ THIS AFTER ONE O’ CLOCK, the murderess, Ruth Ellis, will have gone.

The one thing which brings stature and dignity to mankind and raises us above the beasts of the field will have been denied her - pity and the hope of ultimate redemption.

The medical officer will go to the pit under the trap door to see that life is extinct. Then in the barbarous wickedness of this ceremony, rejected by nearly all civilized peoples, the body will be left to hang for one hour.

IF YOU READ THESE WORDS OF MINE AT MID-DAY the grave will have been dug while there are no prisoners around and the Chaplain will have read the burial service after he and all of us have come so freshly from disobeying the Sixth Commandment which says ‘Thou shall not kill.’

The secrecy of it all shows that if compassion is not in us, then at least we still retain the dregs of shame. The medieval notice of execution will have been posted on the prison gates and the usual squalid handful of louts and rubbernecks who attend these legalized killings will have had their own private obscene delights.

Two Royal Commissions have protested against these horrible events. Every Home Secretary in recent years has testified to the agonies of his task, and the revulsion he has felt towards his duty. None has ever claimed that executions prevent murder.

Yet they go on and still Parliament has neither the resolve nor the conviction, nor the wit, nor the decency to put an end to these atrocious affairs.

When I write about capital punishment, as I have often done, I get some praise and usually more abuse. In this case I have been reviled as being ‘a sucker for a pretty face’.

Well, I am a sucker for a pretty face. And I am a sucker for all human faces because I hope I am a sucker for all humanity, good or bad. But I prefer the face not to be lolling because of a judicially broken neck.
Yes, it’s a fine day.

Oscar Wilde, when he was in Reading Gaol, spoke with melancholy of ‘that little tent of blue which prisoners call the sky’.

The tent of blue should be dark and sad at the thing we have done this day.

2006-11-30T05:05:00.000-08:00

The love-of-my-life just phoned and reminded me that I haven't written in this Blog for a while so here goes for an update:

My love's Mum is seriously ill and she is carrying a lot of grief, she's strong and brave but it's good to know that at least I can help her by encouraging her and speaking to her... wish I could hug her though... she's miles away currently. With luck we may meet a week this Saturday; guess it depends on how her Mum is.

University yesterday was good; my friend Chris put in a L4 tape and it was well received. Good for her. She'll make a great counsellor. PD was sad though; we only have two more and then it ends. God I've come SO far in two and a half years. Initially I was THE total sceptic, mocking the whole system; sitting in a circle being touchie-feelie. Yerk! BUT the whole process has changed me completely; I spoke yesterday about how I had grown and that growth is due to all the love and support that eminates from these wonderful and diverse people all of whom were unknown to me two and a half years ago. If I was to pinpoint how I've changed it would be to simply say that I have become more aware of other people and more appreciative of the space they occupy. I'm more accepting, less inclined to be critical. When I made my end of year presentation to the group everyone agreed that I had developed more than anyone... but then I guess I had a long way to come so any improvement seemed like a giant leap. Next week we have an exam and the week after it all ends. The thought leaves me with very mixed emotions; on the one hand the strain will have ended and the conflict with that certain individual... but then I'll have no PD Group to sit in and to share true warmth and honesty and despite all our protestations about staying-in-touch I doubt we will; people go their own way. Gabs, Christine and Claude will probably stay in touch, and Sarah and Jools share a work placement with me which is ongoing; but I'll miss Jenny, Lynn and Julie especially... and Kev... we are all setting off into a wonderful new world of work which is beautiful and rewarding...

Oh by the way; I know why I am saying this but I guess if you are reading this you wont have a clue what it's all about but I'm saying it to get it off my chest; 'I F***ing HATE psychiatrists!' (OK I know that's a blanket statement and that there must be SOME good ones but I know exactly why I have to say it ha ha ha!

Right; tomorrow my love, her Mum and the immediate family have a meeting with the hospital Docs and assorted staff to update on her Mum's progress. I don't pray, well not to a God anyway, but I'll be beaming seriously loving vibes their way. Something else I have to say: Julia; I love you... but then you know that.

2006-11-16T02:06:00.000-08:00

My niece has been ill; she suffered some kind of infection and froze-up, got rushed into hospital with what they thought was anaphylactic shock… if Doc hadn’t been there she might not have made it. Kind of shook me, don’t realise how much you love someone until something like this happens. Anyway today she is awake, can’t remember anything and now they think it was some kind of infection. She’ll be home in a day or so anyway. Poor kid has MS; as if she didn’t have enough to put up with.

Saga at my University continues with my again trying to set-up a one-to-one tutorial but finding out again that two people will be there. Sick of all this faffing about. Sick of being treated differently. So contacted my professional association and now have some sound advice which I am going to act upon. Watch this space.

Actually with regard to the above; I can’t see the point in attending University anymore. It ends soon and the tension and double standards and being surrounded by equally upset students just is not good for my Karma. Might knock it on the head completely. Not learning much anyway I’d be better off reading and listening to my supervisors at my placements both of whom have been supportive. Shall ponder that.

God it’s getting cold of a morning, frost on the cars and ice on the pavements. I think I might seriously consider buggering off to live in some hotter country in the near future; what is the point of waking up to this lot for 5/6 months every year? It doesn’t do my back any good either. Something else to ponder.

News today is about who will succeed Bliar when he eventually does the decent thing and throws himself off the Pier Head with a bag of Portland Cement tied to his neck (What do you mean; ‘He isn’t going to do that?’ Oh NO! It’s another of my wishful-thinking fantasies!) Anyway; who will succeed the Butcher of Downing Street? Well, I guess it will be yet ANOTHER Butcher come American-Poodle! And my bookie gives me odds of 1000-1 that it won’t be some warm, intelligent, humane, non-warmongering personage and I think; ‘ONLY 1000-1? Miserable bugger!’ Where is the sanity in the world? Hey just had a thought; wouldn’t Carl Rogers have made a great world leader? ‘Now Mr Bliar and Mr Bush, this is Mr Hussain, now can you explain to him how you feel about training him to be a mass murderer, selling him the gas and guns to do so and then having him executed for ‘war crimes’?’ Yes yes yes! I’d vote for that! But then as someone wise once said; ‘If voting ever changed anything, they’d ban it.’ Cynical or what? I think I’m seeing things VERY clearly actually ;-)

2006-11-09T23:25:00.000-08:00

Not written for a while.

Today in the USA, newspapers are raving about the Democrats taking over both houses in the Senate. So what? The oil-barons behind the scenes still pull the strings. Saddam has been sentenced to death and the Daily Express has issued in its grotty pages a do-it-yourself-hang-Saddam kit. Makes you vomit doesn't it? Did anyone ever think the verdict would have been anything other than guilty? What a farce. Our own mighty leader, Tony Bliar, himself a nasty, grubby, war-criminal, is dodging questions about his own attitude to the death-penalty; what a warped little sop he is.

Last Saturday my sweet lady friend took me to London to celebrate my birthday; she booked food, a fine hotel, a great play (The Producers) and gave me much love. It was a fantastic day; I'll never forget it, probably the best birthday I've ever had. It's good to be loved :-)

University continues to be a mix of wonderful progress and appalling lows. The lows stem from an individual who apparently, for reasons unknown to me, just wants to undermine my confidence. Other students notice it and comment; I'm trying to smooth things out but I'm not optimistic. I have had professional advice as well as advice from fellow-students who realise what is going on and are as bemused as I am. Not letting it get me down though (well not for long). On the upside my other fellow students are unilaterally supportive and totally wonderful in the love and support they extend. My supervisor, personal-counsellor, staff, line-manager and friends outside of the Uni are also just brilliant; the advice given is thoughtful and considered. The way others behave though just throws into stark relief the totally agressive and unprofessional stance of the individual in question. I really don't have a clue why it is happening either and don't want this to end in my questioning this person's ethical approach... hope it can be resolved.

Today I am having a whole 'day off' :-) Which means I'll probably go for a long and relaxing walk... take some photos and munch a bar of dark chocolate. Oh by the way I had my annual health check last week and lungs are in great shape; it's close to four years since I packed in smoking :-) Kind of proud of that :-)

2006-10-22T01:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday some dick-for-brains trashed my loved one's car. Not here in Liverpool but in the midlands; she is so upset, sick and angry but she is there and I am here; nothing can be done. I feel empty. Impotent. Also on Friday at 10.0 clock in the evening a friend died. Oh it had been expected and was probably a release from the pain of cancer; but all-in-all both events have left me sort of empty. What's it all about then eh?

The evenings here are getting quite cold; people are saying those stupid words; 'Soon be Christmas', and the shops are already filled with cheap and tawdry decorations which people will use to decorate their homes. When I was a kid we used to cut up newspapers into strips, bend the strips into circles then glue them and make paper chains to hang on the walls and ceiling making sure they wont too close to the gas-lamp. Can't ever remember having a Christmas tree but we did use holly to decorate. What the hell that had to do with the impovereshed Nazarene I never figured out.

I made an entry on the 17th of October in the History-Matters online blog; you had to just describe your day no matter how mundane... in case it gets lost I'll repeat what I wrote below... as I said; mundane:

TESTIMONIALS
Alan Corkish, Liverpool
17 October 2006
I went to bed at midnight last night but couldn't sleep, got up again about 3 and drank some cold water and ate a fig. I am a mature student working on a Post Graduate Diploma in Psychotherapy and so I did some reading and listened to Radio 4 (Which is where I heard about this blog).

It's a still, chilly morning here in Liverpool UK and my day ahead will go like this: I'll prepare some food for this evening's meal (I live alone but enjoy cooking), then do some more University work, might even go into the John Moore's Library in Tithebarn Street. This afternoon I will be at Fazakerly Hospital where I will see three clients.Other than that I'll listen to some music and go for a walk... I try to walk every day as I am retired due to ill-health (Had a couple of heart attacks). Oh yeh I'll also visit a couple or three friends; Jim, Suzie and Karen maybe... have a chat and put the world to rights. Maybe my loved one will phone me, Julia, hope so :-)

The news today is depressing again; war in Iraq continues (ILLEGAL war I might add), I loathe Tony Bliar for destroying the Labour Party and dragging it into several wars; I thought we were the party of peace but he put an end to that.

I write by the way, but haven't written for a while... my first novel, Groups, was published this year and I have a volume of poetry in its second reprint; Corrupted Memories. Best thing though is that my radical autobiography is with a publisher right now and has already been nominated for the T S Eliot prize; it's a 25 thousand word poem in fragmented text and who knows, if you read this in a hundred years time my name might be as famous as Eliot's is now ha ha ha; anyway, the autobiography is called Glimpses of Notes.

IF my website still exists when you are reading this then go visit it at http://www.alancorkish.co.ukI really really hope, if you are reading this a hundred years from now, that we have eliminated the major evils; WAR and RELIGION. One causes the other, almost inevitably. Peace and Love from a rambling ancient in Liverpool UK :-) XXX

I guess; re-reading it, that it's a bit of a plug for my writing ha ha ha; but the message is from the heart. Bloody religion; Muslims in veils or Christians wearing instruments of torture as jewelry (The Crucifix)... Jews with strange hats and haircuts and a thousand other religions all intolerant of the others. When we no longer NEED Gods we might grow up enough to put an end to war, famine and poverty which STILL plague us... it's a disgrace. The hope of course should lie with the children; but look at them, all totally enwrapped in 'possessions' with their mobile-fones and their ipods; when I was fifteen I joined CND, soon after that I joined the Liberal Party to protest about apartheid tours then moved to the Communist Party! Oh I'm not just whinging 'the kids today' but sometimes I do despair. All-in-all this is a bit of a despairing entry I guess, maybe that's because Annie is lying in her coffin waiting cremation; bye Annie, you'll be missed.

2006-10-13T00:34:00.000-07:00

THIS season is not my favourite. The trees are turning to amber, red, gold and are so stunningly beautiful that they actually HURT my sensory system. Does that make sense? And then there are the abundant fruits and the mist-strewn canal banks; all just FAR TOO BEAUTIFUL... just had a thought; maybe it's the knowledge that one day I will see my last Autumn that depresses the mind, not sure, anyway I always slide a little downhill at this time of the year. Luckily I am loved by a woman who understands and yesterday she spoke to me for hours about taking-care of my 'self' and employing techniques to 'survive', and I will of course, and as I get older it gets easier. Thank you beautiful lady. And thank you also to all the other beautiful males and females who, for some odd reason, appear to love me; tis good and it makes me happy. Oh and special thanks to Angie who read my last Blog and promptly sent me a reply to an email ha ha ha; she clearly read the first entry on my list :-)

Right; tomorrow I shall attend a workshop run by the psychotherapist Mick Cooper; I like the guy and am looking forward to being lifted and stimulated. Also I'll see again some old friends and we'll have a bit of a get together. Later tomorrow I'll devour food at a classy eatery; The Left Bank, it's up on Penny Lane (Yep the one that the Beatles made famous). Looking forward to that too. So many good things beckon in the future including my coming birthday celebrations which are being arranged as a suprise by dear, kind Jools and which excites me; all I've been told is to be in London at 1.15 on the Saturday; he he he, I feel like a schoolkid waiting for Father Xmas :-)

I was, after the last entry, going to list 20 things I hate but ah, I feel too good for that so shall just list one single thing I hate:

BULLIES!

2006-10-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

I woke an hour ago to torrential rain and thunder and lightening and animals in the night howling! It was brilliant but it also interrupted a nightmare; I had come home on a dark night and as I entered the house a light went on in my bathroom so I ran upstairs and burst the door open; but there was no one there! Then I was walking downstairs and a light went on in my kitchen so again I ran into the kitchen but there was no one there. Then I woke to a brilliant flash of lightening! Frightening!

Anyway. I have decided to list things that make me happy. And why shouldn't I do that?

1) A reply to an email :-) Simple but welcome.
2) My cat lying on her back in front of the fire purring.
3) Being told I am loved.
4) Making other people feel good.
5) Living my life as honestly as I can.
6) Mahler's 4th Symphony.
7) Reading good poetry. Preferably out loud to someone who also enjoys it.
8) Good food and a nice glass of quality wine to wash it down.
9) Real friends who don't judge me.
10) Driving to visit people whom I love.
11) Studying; making my mind work harder.
12) A stranger smiling at me in the street.
13) Laughter; preferably shared.
14) Walking, preferably alone but sometimes with one exceptional person.
15) Sex with someone loving and warm.
16) Listening to Radio 4.
17) Debating.
18) Knowing I am mortal.
19) Realising that the world is very small and very short-lived.
20) A kiss, from that one very special person.

2006-10-05T03:02:00.000-07:00

Today I'm talking about POWER.

Not the power that Bush, Blair, Ghengis Khan and Hitler had to wage war and cause universal suffering but the power of frustrated despots who find themselves in a position to be able to manipulate and hurt others and to do this purely because they have their own corrupt agenda... traffic wardens have it in a small portion as too do police-persons, councillors and middle-management BUT the real power to hurt, maim and corrupt is in the hands of teachers. You know the ones; the bully who gets pleasure in screaming at some terrified child that their work is 'rubbish', the frustrated lesbian who destroys small boys slowly and with malice and the control-freak who wants everyone to be a universal copy of themself.

In another life I was a teacher; I taught adults and children and am proud to say that I never ever felt the need to humiliate a pupil, always felt the urge to encourage them and to persuade them that inside of them was a force which would allow them to be anything they choose to be. But I witnessed the bullies, the frustrated, the inadequate and the sadistic who were thick and plentiful in the ranks of staff and who seemed to derive pleasure from destroying... for example I witnessed a pupil proudly exhibiting his creative offering to a teacher who stopped him at every single sentence and asked him (in a derisory fashion; each sentence beginning with 'Right, stop there...') to 'explain' exactly what he was at. Now this may not have had such a huge impact on the pupil but the fact that not a single word of encouragement or praise ever came from these tight, frustrated, sneering lips just totally destroyed that pupil's confidence; he became, inside, a failure and all due to the uncaring and sadistic dismembering of his soul by this evil bitch or a teacher. I can see her now, like a cat with a mouse, deriving pleasure from slow and callous torment... and sadly she's probably still out there, maybe even in charge of a department. I often wonder what great cruelty was done to her to make her so bitter.

I went for a bevvy and some food after University ended yesterday. A pleasant evening and we got chatting to some lesbian women about politics and they were right-on :-) Well, right-on for me anyway but my mates, who are all Bliar-arse-lickers, were getting a bit frustrated at meeting real Socialists. All jolly good fun and frolicks then a late night taxi home to flop in my king-size bed and dream of beauty and truth.

Life is good (mainly)!

2006-10-02T09:45:00.000-07:00

I am frustrated; I'm being rushed into things by people who should know better. Bugger. But I've already let myself be sort of bum-rushed so no use crying over spilt milk as they say (BUT much better if the milk hadn't been deliberately spilt in the first place). Oh yes I know it's cryptic but I choose for it to be cryptic; I make decisions about my own life and do not like to be bullied (Even though I feel I have been; grrrrrr; am I allowed to get MAD?)

Anyway. Life goes on.

Conservative Party twaddle goes on; much-ado-about-nothing I guess. But oddly now they don't seem to be the real enemy; Bliar is actually goading them by saying that they are anti-American and anti-War! Excuse ME? I thought WE on the left were anti-American Imperialism and anti-War? Whatever happens from now on Bliar has ballsed up politics to be just a grubby amoral scrimmage for power. The Labour Party used to say; 'This is our table, spread before you in honesty, we will argue the case for justice, peace and Socialism and if you don't want that then you don't vote for us.' Then along came Bliar and his bunch of Bible-bashing infiltrators and swept everything of the table! ('under' the table might be more accurate) Instead they said; 'We want POWER; what would you like us to be? Tell us what to be and we'll be THAT no matter how unacceptable it is.' So of course they won their grubby POWER. But at what cost? I would be ashamed to be a member of this New Labour Party who are now squabbling about whether Bliar the Liar is going to be superseded by GORDON BROWN the lock-jawed Clown... oh my God it would be laughable if these tossers weren't actually feathering their own power-nests at the cost of human lives, human dignity and honesty.

ROLL ON THE REVOLUTION!!!!

2006-10-01T09:03:00.001-07:00

I have a friend, Angie, who noted (by reading this blog) that I am 'sort of full of love' Ha ha ha; perceptive Angie BUT so much more than perceptive she also serves up advice, like this: "love is always an 'ingredient' we should use scarcely, if we want our meals to remain 'enjoyable' ". I shall bear that in mind dear sister.

Today has been one of those dull Sundays that slipped away without anything much being done. David Cameron, Tory Leader, has been mumbling platitudes and employing his webcam to assure people that this high-born Old Etonian is really one-of-us. (Pigs were seen flying over the conference hall). After noon I went to visit my friend Karen, she is a good woman wanting little out of life except a job, some money in her pocket and to have-a-laugh. Her two daughters live with her like cuckoos in her nest; the eldest girl works and tries to help out around the house but the younger just sucks the marrow out of life without thought about who supplies the meat. It is a friendly home though and I'm always made welcome... it's relaxing to be there for an hour or so.

Oh and I wrote a poem :-) First for a while... I'll paste it in below in its first form; undoubtedly it will be reshaped over the next few days:

madness
(Poem inspired by a woman in a TV programme
on 26th October 2006 about bi-polar disorder
who tried to drill her head with an electric drill)

insane rain on her head
beat away at the matter beneath
hypnotic patterns of rhythmic pain
expanding
and the drill in her hands
pointing at the pulse
throbbing inside the temple
of a mind tipped
polar-wise in the direction
of a madness that manically
depressed everything
except the urge to hurt

later in a secure ward
when the liquid largactil
had coshed her into
uneasy slumber
they discussed her
and her ‘relapse’

white-coated figures
sipping hot coffee and
dipping cream biscuits

and she alone in a cot
curled vulnerably foetal
weeping in her nightmare sleep

2006-09-29T02:09:00.000-07:00

Another day, another dime, as the Mexicans used to say in NY City when I worked with them cleaning shit from the yellow-cabs. (Until the Feds caught me working without a permit and deported me ha ha ha)

I still haven’t written creatively for some time; two reviews are also outstanding and although I’ve made a few notes I am nowhere near ready to send them off. Ugh; I don’t feel as if I have writers’ block I just sort of feel a bit ‘slow’… time-of-year probably; light is fading. I was reading the poems I wrote when I decided to write a poem-a-day; they’re not at all bad and maybe I’ll try to get a publisher interested. I think I’ll repost them all on my website and see what response they elicit.

Car goes in today for MOT, need to do some shopping… the mundane frivolities of life need attending to I guess and that’s OK… slowwwwww and yet jerky, life at present I mean, like that Butterfly of Robert Graves… yeh that’s how I feel; ‘lurching’ through each giddy day. I’ll print it here:

The butterfly, the cabbage white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has - who knows so well as I?
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the aerobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.

Yep that’s me to a T and it feels OK to be a common cabbage white :-)

2006-09-28T03:31:00.000-07:00

I’m part of a PD group (Personal Development) and I hogged the whole two hours last night. How do they tolerate me?

Anyway; New Labour Party Conference ends today so they’ll all enthusiastically be singing the Red Flag and the Internationale (NOT)… more likely they’ll be stumbling over the words or more likely they’ll hire some opera or pop-singer to sing the Red Flag for them while the others listen with half an ear then applaud vapidly. Hypocritical scumbags all of them… or most of them anyway. Are the Trade Unions really so reactionary that they’ll throw their votes behind GORDON BROWN? Sadly I think the answer is yes. Ah well; they’ll reap what they sow.

Post just arrived and two lovely cards; one from my sister Mig with a beautiful story in it and another which was equally beautiful but anonymous. The story on my sister’s card is worth repeating:

There was a writer who needed to clear his mind. He had run into a brick wall. His work was at a standstill. He had writer’s block.

He moved into a friend’s house down on a beach to get away from distractions, but still nothing was forthcoming. With his mind a blank, he got up from the desk to get some coffee and looked out a window.

He spied a fellow doing a very odd dance down the beach. He watched for a bit, but the dance didn’t change. The fellow would bend over, stand up, do some gyrations toward the surf and stop, walk back and start again by bending over.

Intrigued, the writer walked outside. The fellow continued his actions seemingly unaware that he was being observed. Fascinated by what might be a logical reason for the odd dance, the writer began walking down the beach.

As he got closer, he began to realize that the fellow was picking something up and throwing it into the surf. He stopped near the young man and observed him bend over, pick up a stranded sea star, make a few odd steps toward the surf and fling the creature into the ocean.

The writer finally asked the young man, “What are you doing?”

“Saving sea stars.” was the young man’s reply, as he threw another into the water.

Looking around, the writer realized that hundreds and thousands of sea stars were high and dry and dying on the beach. The sand was littered with sea stars. He stated what might have seemed obvious to most, “Doing what you’re doing won’t make any difference.”

Bending over, picking up another stranded animal and flinging it into the surf, he said, “It made a difference for that one.”

I guess the story is saying that it’s worth doing even small acts of kindness; and I can go with that. Thanks for the story Mig.

2006-09-24T05:38:00.000-07:00

It’s Sunday and I’m watching a great storm raging outside; thunder, lightening and torrential rain… the gutters are backing-up and the road is flooding; great fun.

The New Labour Party Conference starts today and Tony Bliar has just been on the Radio refusing to ‘endorse’ GORDON BROWN as his candidate for the leadership of his Nazi Party, sorry, of course I mean his New Labour Party (First person to spot the difference email me and I’ll send them a small prize; like life-membership of the Tony Bliar fan club; current membership 3). What a waste the past years have been; Bliar with his Bible at his bedside has succeeded in creating several wars and massacring thousands upon thousands of innocents and destroying many of the World’s greatest art treasures when he ruthlessly bombed buildings indiscriminately in the disgusting ‘shock-and-awe’ attack on Iraq. I doubt though that the scum-bag will ever end up in front of a War Crimes Tribunal where he belongs. Reports over the past days say that 7000 British Troops have been killed or injured but that they don’t count the Iraqi dead… presumably because Iraqi people don’t count. George Orwell once wrote that in the British Constitution is an unwritten but understood clause which says in parenthesis at the end of every piece of legislation; ‘(not including niggers)’. Clearly it still holds; Bliar can massacre Arabs because they are ‘other’, they don’t count. Sickening. Soon he’ll retire to live in his four million pound house and do lecture tours when he actually should be put up against a wall and shot (after a fair trial of course) ;-)

Something happened this past week which went by without comment but I find it truly amazing. Saddam Hussein is on trial for War Crimes (obviously he is; he’s an Arab)… and the Judge at his trial after hearing weeks and months of evidence expressed the opinion that Saddam may not be guilty. So what happened? The judge was immediately ‘replaced’! It would be laughable if it wasn’t so horrendous. The whole world knows that Saddam HAS to be found guilty in his show-trial; otherwise those nice Christian boys Bliar and Bush are guilty… and that would never do would it? Reports from Amnesty this week also say that the amount of torture now going on in Iraq is ‘Substantially greater than under Saddam Hussein’s regime.’ Every day hundreds die, a stooge Government is installed, anarchy rules and behind the scenes all of those involved in the murderous invasion are busy whacking out lucrative oil-contracts to their friends and family which they had planned a long time ago and they even had the audacity to write it up on their website; check here to read all their filth and about their plans to destroy Iraq over ten years ago. Evil rules and Good people are either ignored or shot. What a disgusting legacy for an alleged ‘Labour Prime Minister’.

All sing together now: 'The Peoples flag is deepest red...' (Well it sure as hell is NOW)

2006-09-22T01:03:00.000-07:00

Today I have awarded myself a day off; but first I have a visit to someone medical to check on my ‘self’ (Cryptic? What moi?)… Today I shall take the train over the river to New Brighton and walk the 3 or 4 miles down the prom at the side of the River Mersey, then I’ll take the Ferry to Liverpool and walk through the City, stopping off somewhere for lunch (probably at the Everyman Bistro or Egg Café)… I shall try to write; simply because I have not written for some time… I think I’m releasing my artistic side with photography and in my work as a psychotherapist, BUT, need to write again, it feels as if there’s an empty space somewhere, like a hunger that needs feeding.

I’m also searching the web to find a hotel in or close to Stratford as my friend and I want to go and see the RSC production of Romeo and Juliet. It’s always difficult to find a decent hotel down there; guess they are all booked by overseas tourists, Shakespeare fans. I’d like to take a boat on the river; that’s cool, haven’t done it for a while…

I’m putting University and the problems there totally behind me today. I feel no malevolence towards the staff or even the admin; I just sigh deeply somewhere inside because it all seems so inconsequential and incompetent. I have HAD to learn to organise my life due to my illness so I just can’t get my head around the laizes-faire attitude of some people; it seems more like bone-idleness at times. But anyway, as said, I bury all that the moment I post this blog entry. Life is too short for pettiness.

If any one ever reads this know that I am a very powerful man with a larger than average brain and deep compassion for under-dogs. Dunno why I said that but fuck you; I can write what I want, it’s MY Blog :-)

2006-09-21T00:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the first day back at University, this will be the final semester before we graduate with Post Graduate Diplomas in Counselling and Psychotherapy and then, by invitation, go on to complete our Masters. They dropped what was to me, a bombshell yesterday; we need to submit tape-recordings of actual counselling sessions. It states clearly that we need to submit a '20 minute section'... yesterday Course Leader calmly handed out a sheet of paper which says we should submit the complete recording of the whole session.. stating this must be a '60 minute tape'. Now I have recorded literally hundreds of tapes; but they are ALL of 45 minute duration. Reason for this is that I contract to 50minute sessions and I find it useful for both myself and the client to explain the tape will shut off when there is five minutes left in the session... this gives a client time to either compose themselves or to get out anything that is really weighing heavily on them. I explained this to the Team Leader but my comments were dismissed; they need 60 minute tapes. What really bugs me is that all of the students except one or two are using 45 minute tapes and not one expressed any discontent. Also we have been on this course for two years now and at no time has anyone on the staff mentioned anything other than 'a twenty minute tape'. IF it was essential that they have one hour tapes you'd think one of them might have just mentioned it instead of leaving it until now; it sickens me. ALL the students are moaning in secret about the course but few of them say anything out loud. But the real fault lies with the staff organisation (or lack of it); individually they are great people, wonderful human beings, but as the old saying goes; couldn't-organise-a-piss-up-in-a-brewery... well that's not entirely fair; one of them seems to be organising things as best she can but it emerged all through yesterday that they prefer to 'float' between possibilities rather than say X is X and that's it; it's all airy-fairy... sign of insecurity I guess and the course leader is just a bully.

My mood is changing; damn. Some essence of SAD... in retrospect I didn't go through a manic period in the Summer as some idiot suggested... however now I'm slipping as the nights draw-in. I have coping strategies though, no problem with actually getting through it and hopefully pretty quickly too; but it doesn't make it any more pleasant. It's like a physical illness and if you aint got the illness don't even try to comprehend :-(

Today however I am undergoing 'steps' to rectify things, to re-establish 'normality'. I like the challenge; know that I can effectively dump the Black Pig... and that in itself feels good; roll on the challenge, it brings victory ever closer.

2006-09-18T01:17:00.000-07:00

Went to Hope Street Festival yesterday; lovely day, overcast but no rain and quite warm... (and with force seven winds in the Fairos. German Bite, Dogger and The Scilly Isles; visibility low; 50 yards, overcast, 1010, rising... Sorry I just drifted into another life there for a minute)... anyway; I liked most a drum-band; crazy wild rhythms pounding out and everyone was 'dancing' (Well, as well as you can dance when sandwiched between hundreds of personages). I got some free beer from CAMRA (Chocolate bitter; delicious) and some more free beer from Caines (Raisin flavour, also delicious). I bought some food; a venison pie, some chocolate fudge, black puddings and some Ostrich steaks... also sampled some organic Danish Blue which was strangely mild and un0Danish-Blue like so I never bought any. I ate some jerk-chicken while listening to a brass band and met lots of mates and generally had great fun.

Later I went to my friend Suzie's house, she is a musician and she played the guitar while we sang together and her wee daughter got increasingly annoyed (Sorry Alice)... all-in-all a nice day and when I got home I grilled one of the Ostrich steaks and had it with mushroom sauce and a bottle of Burgundy. Life is good.

Meanwhile the woman I love was carrying her wee grand-daughter around the Newbury show (Hey! Am I in love with a Granny? Bloody hell; guess I am!) and planning how to crack her tooth by munching on soft food; dunno how she managed it but when she sets her heart on something... good luck with dentist sweetheart.

Lib Dems are planning 'Green Taxes'. Sounds good to me but they'll never get in. It seems that no matter how frequently the Bliar Liars con the people they still react like the animals in Orwell's Animal Farm when the cry goes up; 'What if Jones comes back?!' Bliar's bunch of chanting Pigs just say; 'Ahhh, we may be two-faced scum but WHAT IF THE TORIES COME BACK?' And people panic, completely forgetting that the Tories are already here; it's the so-called New Labour supporters and ex-Tory voters that carried them to victory. Sad eh?

2006-09-07T00:43:00.000-07:00

Today is tough. Not sure why. I don't feel up to doing very much. I applied for some Arts Council money yesterday and am not optimistic about getting it. I wish I was in the woods lying down on a bed of ferns. My friends are great, work is good, I am fit and healthy, I don't dislike anyone (except that bastard son-of-a-bitch Tony Bliar) and I will almost certainly live to be 120... BUT... but... something's missing...

Anyway; huge faffing about in the Labour Party today with invisible people resigning as they panic about losing their seats and lucrative salaries; Bliar the scum-bag is behaving like a petulant child whose rattle has fallen from his pram and everyone believes that MR GORDON BROWN will somehow emerge from all of this and 'rescue' the Labour Party. But he wont; Brownism will be just mark 2 Bliarism which in its turn was mark 2 Thatcherism... we need a saviour, a sort of Batperson who will leap out and reinstate socialist values; zap, wham, bam... but their aint one, not one! Amongst all these self-seeking, spineless hypocrits no one wears their cardigan tucked into their underpants, no Batperson, no Superperson, only a patHetic Flashy Gordon who fools no one. Ugh; no wonder I feel depressed!

2006-09-04T07:16:00.000-07:00

Difficult day for me today; BIG day in many ways; a sort of decision day... depending on how a certain person responds will determine my future. That makes me nervous but excited too. Have to just hang on and wait I guess.

My overall future involves several avenues; I am continuing to work as a psychotherapist while still studying for my Masters degree in psychotherapy; it's an interesting job... well, more than a job really. And I continue to write; I got a Royalty cheque from my publisher today, hardly enough to retire on but nonetheless welcome.

What really excites me is the forthcoming publication of my autobiography Glimpses of Notes (Details on my Home Page) which is really new being a 25000 word poem in what I call fragmented text, you can read what critics are saying about the poem by clicking here. I guess it is a very personal document but clearly it means something to other people as well; they appear to like it. I have been pondering on whether I give-a-damn whether other people like it or not; let's put it this way: I am pleased that I wrote it, pleased for me... but yes I would like people to recognise it as a work of art, or of literature, it could be seen as either. BUT; it wont hurt me if people don't like it; it needed writing, it was sort of therapeutic and was also a learning curve. Study in detail who you are and it may come as a shock but it's never boring :-) writing Glimpses of Notes entailed my looking in great detail at my life... and at history-with-me-in-it. That was revealing to say the least.

2006-09-02T09:56:00.000-07:00

I've had three days of fun, fine-food and frolics with a delightful lady... she gave me lots to think about though... time for some serious pondering methinks. Not been writing creatively but have been concentrating on work (psychotherapy) and on applying for Arts Council money to assist with my poetry journal erbacce. Life is running at a rapid rate of knots, feel as though I'm losing my footing on a downhill slope when what I want to do is slow up and smell the flowers. Dined at The London Carriage Works last night; my God what an eatery; perfect food, perfect wine, staff who move like ballet-dancers and a wine waiter with charm, knowledge and humour... expensive of course but who the hell cares?

2006-08-29T02:56:00.000-07:00

I guess that Blogs are supposed to be used as some kind of a diary or log... not exactly sure. I heard a discussion on Radio 4 this morning about whether Blogs should be profit-making or not but I can't see any Blog making me into a millionaire; don't even know if I want to be a millionaire; guess I have 'enough' and as everyone knows; enough is as good as a surfeit.

I've been surfing fotologs this morning and came across this sight where a guy in the USA takes pics of down-and-outs or homeless people and then writes their life stories; that is sure as hell a good way to use fotolog. You look at most of them and they are just pictures of me me me but this one makes you think; it makes those people I see sitting outside the Strand with their cans of White Lightening Cider seem like real human beings. That should mean that I should talk to them and try to give substance to what have previously been empty shells so just this morning I said 'Hy' to them; that's all, just a 'Hy there' and hell they all said 'Hullo' or 'Cheers' and not one of them followed their greeting with a request for a 'few coppers'. I wonder if they'd mind me taking their pics? Seems intrusive and anyway that was someone else's idea, someone in NY City in the US of A. My flog isn't just me though; I try to walk every day in the country or on the sea-shore so I post pics taken on my walks. If you're interested go vist by clicking here.

That alansky22, I use it a lot... and there's a reason for that, a reason connected to a woman who sky-dives... but that's another story.