Month: May 2015

He sits down and carefully places the cold glass on the table. He squirms on the wooden chair, trying to get comfortable as he slowly looks around, taking in the clientele as some vaguely hip electronica burbles from the speaker above his head. He wonders if he’s chosen the best seat, the window offers a view of the street and the distractions outside.

He takes a sip of beer, he’s on his second already, pulls his phone from his pocket and completes the modern ritual of those who live in this always-on connected world. He disconnects from everyone around him as he checks messages, emails, delving into social media this and status updates that as he whiles away the time which is slowly, ohhhh so slowly, creeping forward.

Bored, listless, he puts the phone down and once again surveys the room. Nothing has changed since he entered.

The music changes and his gaze shifts to the window and the view beyond. He watches a couple, deep in frantic conversation, slowly walking past, a teenager peeks out from beneath her hood as she strides forward, determination on her face and lurid green headphones clamped to her ears, a woman at the end of her working day heads home to her children and inside the pub the man  wonders about the excitement that will bloom on their faces when she arrives at her destination and reveals the contents of that bulging Toys R Us bag.

The door to the bar is pushed open, a figure framed in the frosted glass for a moment. A man enters the bar and across the room a flicker of recognition becomes a smile as his friend rises to greet him once more.

Your golden brown skin hides so much from me, dry and flaking it repulses me at first, pushes me away, but I know the wonders that lie underneath. Never judge a book by it’s ageing, dead cover.

Inside is where your true meaning is found, your curves offer movement, your sharpness brings me to tears. I love the way you taste, no matter how you arrive on my tongue it is always a moment to be savoured, sweet at times, sour at others.

Sliced through you reveal your heart, wrapped in so many layers of protection, hidden away from the world. A tortured soul deep within. Each layer of your protection grown and cultivated with purpose, keeping your core safe that it may grow again, that you may have the chance to heal and offer up life anew.

In my hands your ageing skin crackles and crumbles, your brown husk falls away to reveal a fresh version of you.

I pause, giving you a final moment of rest, a final feeling of belonging, of completeness. You are whole.

My plans for you are set, as they always are. An age old tradition that we must hold to, strengthening our will in the knowledge of your fulfilment.

The blade you fear is next, slicing you in half, brutally expected. You know it has to be this way and with the first cut made you finally start to realise your true being.

Again and again the knife slashes at you until you are reduced to rubble. You will never be whole again, never be rebuilt. It must be this way.

The blade is slick with your juices, its work is done.

I gently bring your pieces back together but I cannot reshape you. In cupped hands I lift the these pieces of you, a final touch, cool and moist on my palm, your innards as colourless as your core, a beguiling transulency soon to be realised.

I raise you up for your final journey, offering you to the heavens before I tip you into the waiting depths below, the fiery pit, your final resting place.

Add butter and crushed garlic, fry until soft.

Idea from 642 Things to Write About

It’s been over a year since I last mentioned my podcast listening habits, since then I’ve changed what app I use and the list of my subscriptions has changed too.

Over not Down

When I started using Downcast it was largely because it was available as both iOS and OSX apps, and sync’d well between my devices.

It’s a good app but I soon realised that I rarely, if ever, listen to podcasts when I’m sitting at my computer, they are something to listen to when I’m on the go (and if I really want to listen to them at home I can use AirPlay).

These days I use Overcast because it’s the nicest one to use. It has clever features like Smart Speed and Voice Boost but mostly it’s because it does what I want and feels nice to use. I offer no more rationale than that because I don’t need to.

Sidenote: I’m much more relaxed about my tech choices these days. There will ALWAYS be something better, something newer, so I’m forcing myself to make my peace with that and finding that I’m much more persuaded by my emotional brain than my practical brain on these matters. Design over function, desire over need (within limits).

Subscriptions

As for the podcasts I listen to, below is an update to the list I published previously. I’ve left the links for the ones I no longer subscribe to because they might be of interest to others but mostly I am just trying to keep my own list manageable, can’t listen to everything!

• Click
• Documentary of the Week
• Polyamory Weekly
• In Our Time
• The Moth Podcast
• Radiolab from WNYC
• Richard Herring’s Meaning of Life
• Shift Run Stop
• This American Life
• Welcome to Night Vale
• 99% Invisible
• Love + Radio
• No Such Thing As A Fish *
• On Being
• Invisibilia
• Here Be Monsters

I’m still not a heavy podcast listener, instead I tend to listen to a few episodes in a row if I find I have the time, a bit like bingeing on Netflix boxsets.

* My favourite, 30 odd mins of random facts and chat from the QI Elves’.

A welcome cliché.

Tourists mingle with the eclectic mix of locals; students revel in their dishevelment, bleary eyed passers-by, shoppers planning their raids, hipsters hiding behind headphones and signal red socks.

The air is every sense. Rich bitter coffee, sweet cakes and savoury pastries, reflections from the pavement puddles and the cloud scrolled light, Sound upon winding sound; the gentle rolling chatter, the little black boxes providing the melody of a slow acoustic guitar song, the occasional clink of cup on saucer, the sudden punctuation of an unexpected laugh.

Large glass panes frame the rest of the universe, far outside this cosy place. Cars drive by in their own cocoons, people with bags walking to the next shop, a curious dog enjoys an incident free daytime.

People leave.

People enter.

Each movement of the door adds and detracts, subtle changes to the air, to the sound, to the culture, to the mood. A constant flow, ebbs, tides.

There are groups and couples here, enjoying their own company, discussing the world in over heard snippets. Pieced together they offer an image of a bizarre land, a fabulous place of nonsense, where weekends are sautéed mushroom, new books are made from purple sand, and television is nothing but a wipe-able surface.

A few of us sit alone. A woman sitting on a stool at the window, gym bag at her feet, idly swings her legs as she watches the couple across the road dreaming into an Estate Agent window. Beside me a younger man addresses his laptop with a glare and a sigh before resuming his furious pecking.

I sit in these places from time to time but never feel part of them. I guess that’s the point. Transitory places, strangers thrown together, a ragtag crew that will drift away like wood on the tide.

The door opens and in from the rain more faces appear. A mother and daughter laugh at a shared moment and both clear their suddenly steamy spectacles. An elderly couple guide each other with a familiar love to the vacant seats within.

I order another coffee and wait for the scene to change once more, wondering what sense will fill the air before I too float away into the pavement tides.

There he goes, walking through the Final Portal, leaving me here in this office again.

I always get a little flashback ss the doors swing shut, back to my Delivery Day which feels so long ago now, the day I said goodbye to the Transporter – a large and kind van that wished everyone well whether they were arriving or departing – and entered my Place of Destination.

I’m getting older and those memories are starting to fade now so sometimes I have to concentrate really hard to recall what life used to be like beyond the Final Portal, remembering how nervous I was as we all huddled together in the Great Birth House of Ware, listening to rumours of where we might go, what might happen to us, and the perils of the journey ahead; beware the Idiot Who Drops.

I can remember parts my journey, hazy images shimmer, a bright warm glowing light falling on my surfaces. I can see that light now as I look at the where the Uprights go but I must have upset it as it doesn’t even look my way any more. I miss the way it felt, warm on my metal and wood.

More Uprights leave and the evening chatter begins. From the other end of the room I can hear Matilda complaining about the third cup of tea that she’s had spilled on her. I feel sorry for her, her companion Up and Downer, Gareth, is never very sympathetic. I think he misses Federico, I’m still not sure why they were separated but the Uprights never seem to think about these things. I’m glad I’m not on wheels.

We never really know how long our companions will be with us, nor who our neighbours will be; the Uprights like to move us around sometimes, oblivious to our feelings and friendships. They can be such selfish, thoughtless things.

That said I guess I’m lucky, my companion and I have been together for many years now, and my Upright likes to keep me tidy and rarely spills anything on me. Some of my neighbours aren’t as lucky though, and every night I look over and see them covered in bits of paper and cold coffee cups, the detritus of the working day left to rot overnight.

Ahhh, here comes the Bright Mover, keys jangling on his belt. He is a very different kind of Upright, at least as far as I can tell. Solitary and slow, he likes to look us over as he passes, moving the Bright Circle he casts slowly back and forth. I think he must like us as he does this a few times every night. I watch as he wanders off again through the Final Portal, the doors gently flick-flacking to a close.

As the night passes we chat quietly about this and that. Mostly we talk about the things we’ve seen that day and, as the night deepens, the older ones regale our newer friends with the things we have seen. And then everyone moans as Peppa the Curved starts to drift off into her usual worrisome thoughts about the day she will once again pass through the Final Portal on her way to the death fields of Take it to the Dump.

I feel sorry for Peppa, she’s seen so many of her type go that way, she stands alone amongst the Straight Edges, a matriarch out of time. Sometimes I think about the death fields and have to admit it scares me. No-one really knows what happens there, I’ve never heard of anyone coming back, unless you believe the old story we were all told as children; The Tale of Old Oak. As the legend goes, there is one of us who made it back from the death fields and back to new Place of Destination but every time I’ve heard the story the details change slightly so I don’t really believe it. It’s still scary though. I hope Peppa shuts up soon.

Thankfully the light is brightening so soon we will be joined by the Uprights again. These Uprights are the ones we all secretly like the most, with their tickly feathers and cloths, and we all love to see Henry each morning, he’s always so cheery and genuinely happy. I think he’s a bit simple but you can’t help but smile when he’s around.

And then, before long, my Upright is walking back through the Final Portal, rolls my companion back, gently places his laptop on me, and the day begins once more.

Idea from 642 Things to Write About

It’s early evening. Two men sit In a car parked outside a warehouse. They are deep in conversation.

“It’s definitely a sliding scale, right? I mean things that are important to you might not be important to me so how do I decide?”

“Are you telling me you can’t decide what’s important in your life? Or don’t know what the last important decision you made was? Seriously?”

“Hey, look. I know what decisions I’ve made but I’m just not sure I’ve changed my mind on something important, like, ever? No big deal really, yeah?”

“Bullshit, brother, bullshit. You might not be willing to admit it to yourself but there must have been something, somewhere, at some point that you changed your mind about. C’mon man, you know there must be, why can’t you just tell me? Stop flapping and spill.”

“Jesus, alright lemme think… hang on, what about you? If this is such a big deal then you must have an example, c’mon man, help me out. Heh, who knows maybe you’ll inspire me, you could be my muse…”

“Ha frickin ha… OK, so I’ll tell you one thing but let’s be clear, this stuff is important to me, yeah? I mean what I’m about to tell you isn’t a decision I took lightly, I agonised about this for a few days, kept me up nights it did, so don’t get all pissy about it when I tell you, alright?”

“Hey chill, we’re just talking here, yeah, it’s all good, no need to get uptight, just talking, it’s all easy man, no big deal. Make a decision, change your mind, all good with me.”

“Goddammit, this is my point, your always backing away from this stuff, you never commit, never really speak your mind, always lost in your own damn world! Like the other day, I was trying to tell you about that weird job I did last week, how weird the building was and you just started banging on about that damn movie you never shut up about…”

“The Shining? I still can’t believe you haven’t seen it!”

“Yeah, and next thing I know I’ve forgotten what we were talking about in the first damn place, pisses me off … anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that you need to start taking some accountability, you know, be more aware of what your actions? I bet there are loads of decisions you’ve made you’ve hardly even thought about, right?”

“Well maybe I’m just the kinda guy that doesn’t dwell on this stuff, I just go with the flow yeah? Life’s too short and man, you need to learn to lighten up, so we all make decisions, we all change our minds, I get it, it’s human nature, but it’s not like all over the world people wake up every day and think ‘whoa I wonder what scary big ass decision I might have to make today’ and then spend the rest of their damn day thinking about changing their minds like that’s some big deal as well. Unlike you, most people just let life happen man, you really need to take a step back.”

“I give up, seriously man, you need to re-assess your priorities.”

“Hey, my priorities are all straight, I’m not the one yakking on and on about life moments and how important they are, fuck you man.”

“Damn straight they are important, jesus, all I’m saying is that sometimes you need to stop and think, make sure you’ve thought things through, fuck me, why is that so hard to understand? And you wonder why people don’t wanna work with you?!”

Silence falls in the car, the men stare out of the window at the falling rain

“Right. Fuck this. Enough talking, let’s do the job.”

“Yeah. Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Idea from 642 Things to Write About