Xmas

The flat is beautiful but freeezzzing!

Chamber of doors.

I went down, down into my subconsciousness.

At first all the trivial stuff bubbled to the surface-how much I hated my last flat mate, the job details at work which I'm sure I never sent out, paying my electric bill and other insignificant earth based conversations.

Then I moved a layer down to the chamber of doors.

I went to the first door and opened it.  All my lovers were inside -sitting as though waiting for an event-similar to a school classroom. I thought they looked a right motley crew. (Mental note: must choose better calibre of lovers). Two lovers were missing and then they appeared. They were the two that I had been in love with. One was more beautiful than the other in my eyes. I set all my lovers free, bar the one that was more beautiful, and let them continue in their earth bound lives, with partners, children and common everyday things. I did not keep the one that was more beautiful in the room but he was not relinquished either.

The next door-my father. He was sitting with his head in his hands bereft. I went up to him and held him as the woman I am now, not as the girl I was when he died. He was still the same age. I healed his wounds with a laser like pen that instantly healed the skin-like in a sci-fi movie. I washed his feet, gave him new clothes and provided a new home on a hill. The house was warm and full of everything he needed. I gave him Josephine his wife (she looked younger and  healed of all earth bound ailments) they had a picnic in the sun and were blissfully happy. I said to Dad "you can go now-you are free."

The next-my potential lover-there was a multicoloured light in room, and he stood there like the Angel Michael. I could see and touch his wings. I gave gifts of jewels, gold and the like. Next we were in some sort of jungle-beautiful full of flora- he was showing me all the exotic plants -I was fascinated. We stood facing each other and he held my hands to his chest and kissed me lightly on both cheeks. I said " Can you come now, I need your protection." He said "Yes."

The next-me as a child. I held her, and kissed her, and cuddled her. She was so beautiful in my eyes and she nestled into my middle aged bosom-. I vowed to protect her and provide everything that she needed.

The next-I can't remember what was inside. Only that I was spiritually chained to something via the chest, by a sort of umbilical cord to some other intangible energy above and diagonally across from me, some distance away, not particularly horrible but something that needed severed. And it was severed.

The next-the darkness. I opened the door and saw Giger's cellar steps. I walked down them and was disappointed that my mind could only conjure a cavern with a dragon. I tried to re-think. In front of me the darkness came in a sheet. It was so dark and void. I closed the door and then instructed it to be soldered shut. But I needed more assurance. So the front of the door was covered in a putty like material and giant gem-stones were placed in rows across the door until it was entirely covered. My mind's eye could see behind the door and gold like drips bled horizontally defying gravity as the darkness tried to penetrate the door. Still unsure I placed a gold angel in front of the door. He stood with his arms folded. I was then satisfied I was safe.

I then tried to go a layer deeper below the chamber of doors.

Below was a dark yet magnificent tower against the wall, thousands of feet high. It was part of a city. I was hard to decipher-it was almost biomachine both technology, architecture and life form. It appeared to have a head at the top of the  tower, eyes too. Not threatening, quite beautiful, but not benevolent exactly. Birds seemed to fly across the tower gliding in the airflow . I tried to clarify what I was seeing but it was too difficult to solidify.

......and so upwards,upwards.... and .....awake.

The Economy.

I can hardly bear to watch as politicians thrash around yet again trying to pull back the £. A fictitious £ may I add. The world has gone mad. Real human suffering is the end result of fictitious money, with half the money owed, being nothing more than a number on a computer screen with no 'asset' behind it.

When are we going to give up the ghost. The economy is falling like a pack of cards in slow motion. Too slow for some to see. It's hard to see when you're in M+S looking at the perfect shelves with food abundant. But if I didn't have a penny then I could not eat that food. That statement should sound bizarre.  If I am born onto this planet-why should I need money to eat food and drink water?

Millions of people have suffered at the hands of this barbaric commercial system. It-does-not-work. Never more so when it's at YOUR door and the wolf is coming to the UK's door.


Let's disband the monetary system, lets disband parliament, bring on the experts of city architecture, lifestyle, ecology, botany, zoology, agriculture, futuristic transport, modern energy-lets hear from scientists, sociologists, psychiatrists who are better versed to know what suits society best.We want a world of abundance for all, where resources are shared equally, where work is no longer to raise another fictitious £-but to develop the planet, to protect wildlife, to nurture animals, to stop all suffering and to enjoy leisure.

I want that world, that world is within our grasp, we can build a paradise here on earth.

A world without money? Many people will say-But how will I spend my days? What would be my motivation for getting up in the morning? How sad we have become in our quest for accumulating material objects simply for the sake of having them, that we can see no other motivation in our lives.

Give yourself a moment to think about life where money did not exist. Where we lived in tune with the planet, working hard in the summer to siesta in the winter months. Where resources were shared around the world. Where you and I lived a fulfilled life doing what you truly enjoyed. Where each individual would all fall neatly into their true path, be it a doctor, teacher, scientist, poet, mother, builder, driver, carer..

I imagine a scene in my perfect world where mans only concern may be the big gathering at the end of the week where millions of people come together simply for the enjoyment of socialising, stepping of futuristic transport to some incredible event. Imagine that, a life where the focus was unity, continually meeting vast amount of new people, prioritising floral and fauna, where not one animal was killed inhumanely but loved and protected,  where the television did not have one advert other than to show the immense beauty of the planet. Where everyone was equal. No monarchy no class system no wealth for the few, no wars, but resources for all.

All the answers are there. It's not difficult.

I Want to go Home

"Please, pleeeaaase" I said.

My eyes shut tightly. "pleease" I whispered

"Please let me go to the Mothership and let someone else take my place."

I implored a while longer until I fell asleep.

......Monday came as usual.

I Wish The Machine Would Stop

I wish the machine would stop-just for one day.

In the mornings, I wake to a car in the distance moving closer and then hear the brakes as it navigates the corner outside my home.

"Bloody Hell" I think. " Another day." I curse that driver and all those to follow. If they hadn't left their homes that morning, I wouldn't have to hear them and I wouldn't have that affirmation in my ear that the machine is starting again. I turn to my pillow, hitting it, disappointed that my wish hasn't come true yet again. The machine gains momentum as people scuttle past my kitchen window. Dogs start barking and children start crying. "Just one day" I think.

One day, when everyone can stay under their duvet's and do nothing. No need to shave. No need to wear a suit. No need for mascara. No need to pick up the phone to call in sick. No need for appointments, or catching trains. No need for shopping, washing or paying bills. Everyone can just stay home and walk to their kitchen's in their P.J's with one sock half-off.

I do hate those cars, like little blood platelets in the machines veins, making it alive.

The nearest we get to the machine stopping is when it snows. Like an Alka-Seltza or milky soothing fluid to calm the engine, a crystal crusted merry-go-round frozen in time.

There's something much more delicious when everyone is off together, as though you can feel the camaraderie or borg like union.  Everyone stays home, half riddled with guilt, relaying your 'snow story' in your mind that you'll tell your boss, but so, so happy, as the white flakes whizz past your window, and you look out just to make sure it's still 10inches thick and there's no way anyone could walk in that!

Heaven.

Where Wild Things Are.

I purchased the film Where Wild Things Are as it was on sale in Sainsbury's.

With the movie playing in the background on the TV, I sat with my laptop trying to catch up on last weeks work, typing electrical readings into a graph. I paid only small attention to a quite wonderful adaptation that was unfolding. The moment that caught in my throat (for those who haven't seen it) was when the boy leaves in the boat and the monsters start to howl at the loss. I've howled like that a few times.

For some reason the movie began to truly resonate about a week later, BINGO! somewhere in the depths of my memory banks the book was there, sitting at an angle of an overstuffed primary school bookshelf or library. I can't exactly remember which it was (school or library) but the memory of the moment, that time in history, became familiar again.

The design of the set is impeccable and there are many spin-off's of homage to this fine design. I utterly, utterly love it.

Saturday afternoon

Egg noodle, soy and chopsticks-lunch saturday 2.30pm

Life from my window goes on...

My Father Was A Criminal

My father was a criminal. That in itself is interesting. One day I went to visit him but neither himself or his home was there. He had burnt his house down. It was written in the local newspaper that Michael Ahmed had said in the dock "I was frying chicken wings My Lord, when the fat caught fire." I do remember he did indeed have a love for chicken wings. I noted it on his "meals for the week" graph placed on the kitchen wall, as some kind of attempt at structure in his life. Unfortunately the Judge was not impressed and dad got marched off to Norwich Prison again, (he was a regular) this time for insurance fraud and arson.

My mother told me that when dad was young (a young criminal) there was a headline in the papers "Guns blazing in Soho". Yes, that was my dad too.

The Egg and Tree

When I moved to Oxford, I rented a near barren house, the owner a typical bachelor. There was little style-just functionality. The house had an inordinate amount of insects. Giant spiders would scuttle across the lounge floor about 11pm at night. Moths would locate themselves high up near the alcove in the hallway and all manner of other horrible insecty things. I felt that I was a lodger in their abode.

Finding relief in my bedroom, the one room where human life was apparent and the insecty things didn't venture, I painted a lot, often from friday night right through to sunday in the late hours.

The visual that gave me the most pleasure was the egg in the tree. When I paint I see the visual before hand firmly imprinted in my mind's eye, then transfer this onto canvas. However the egg in the tree doesn't make any sense to me. I have no idea what it means, or where it comes from. It's a source of endless fascination and I draw it yet.

Me and Jack

Jack was in the room, and I was in the room. Eventually I was standing next to Jack and he held out a masculine arm to say hello. "Jack' he said. He had a half slant smile and a freshness in his expression. We exchanged pleasantries until miss petite joined us talking in a clipped foreign accent. I felt a small pang of jealousy.

The evening went well and by and large I'd forgotten about Jack until I passed him as I was trying to move past a table. Jack was leaning against a wall with his sleeves rolled up. Suddenly we sprang into conversation and became engrossed in a debate while people tried to side step us while raising their hands to their chest as though walking through a tight enclosure.

My lift was ready and as I was walking out, Jack shouted for me, asking for some random thing or other.

My lift commented on how Jack's wife was a saint and how wonderful his seven boy's were. Suddenly I felt so self consciousness and realised that mine and Jack's conduct was under scrutiny by the entire room. I never really spoke to Jack after that, and he never really spoke to me. Instead I would see who he made tea for first. I would pretend he wasn't around. I would sit so I didn't have to face him and I would secretly look from the corner of my eye if I had the chance.

On the last night, Jack was wearing a beautiful cut trouser, pink shirt, and pullover. During the evening, I looked up at him full in the eyes, he looked at me. We looked at each other and then returned to our books.

I really miss that first chat, the spontaneity. I wish I could remember our conversation.

My broken Tooth

While eating tea the other night, half my tooth sheared off. I think I was eating spinach and thought a spinach leaf was caught over my tooth as it felt oddly smooth. My tongue rubbed itself over my tooth several times, trying to move the non-existent leaf.

Suddenly to my horror I realised my tongue was feeling a new caveneous hole where my tooth was. I reached for my mirror and opened my mouth wide, arrhhing into the mirror. Christ half the tooth was gone. Bottom left, 4th from front. I gurned this way and that, turning my head to see how many different angles my tooth could be seen from.

I sat realising, I was now very, very old. Ok, it was a milk tooth that had held on, but my perfect mouth was now imperfect and whoever was unlucky enough to date me in the future, would now have to accept my half missing tooth amongst everything else.

The 'else' was, was many more things that women just don't talk about and men don't want to know about.

I re-looked at the tooth, my tongue doing it's own thing darting in and out of the new enamel crescent. I sighed, it would have to do and I will have to smile less wide.