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Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Friday, July 22, 2005
 Darda McDonaghThis is the least flattering picture of my friend Darda I could find, in it she looks like George Formby on speed. In fact she looks like a sexy, arty, 30 something in real life, and flirty with it. Bio Darda was big on the Lesbian girl rock scene in the early 90s. She had her own band and wrote numerous top 2000 hits. She bacame known to the tabloids when she became romatically linked to Sting, Mick Jagger and Ravi Shankar. Apparently his sitar was amazing. This is all in fact lies. Darda has led a fascinating life and was in a band and is an amazing musician. If I ever get her drunk enough to get some stories from the past I'll let you know. She is also a poetess and this is one of her latest pieces. PVC and Poppers There was a young lady called Rose, Who was actually 97 years old, She always stank of poppers, Which upset the other shoppers, And needed to be gone over with a hose. Bus rises were an excisting journey, As Rose wore bright red PVC, A Coat, short, wonderbra and hat, Wheich enhanced hervarious veins and fat, And the Vodka made her even more feisty. On her detahbed Rose declared her love, For the driver of the number 374, She begged for a dying kiss, He clenched both his fists, As he thought she looked like the back of his bus. Love, Peace and happiness. Jot Wednesday, July 20, 2005
The Silence Born It comes as breath from the haunted place, Bringing dark joys from a hidden heart. In it lurk old friends; splintered remains buried deep. Flesh made fluid, in the sea of embrace. Names never said, lost to the dance. Ancient gods will find their worship. Then the silence was born and made living meat. Animated through the holy Sun, sacrificed to the living wave. Then born eternal, just as that lie that makes the eye bright. Now in all it lives and feeds. Gorging on living gristle. To it we must sacrifice all we find that is unholy, In return all it asks is that we hear. Monday, July 18, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Went to the Bristol Buddhist Centre last night. they had organic cotton t-shirts for sale, I thought "but are they fair trade". That made me smile. This is the first time I have meditated in a group. I had all the usual nervousness of doing something for the first time, however these sensations are all quite familiar now, they are welcome precursors to pleasant experiences. I've journeyed from a life where I wanted permaneance and stability to a life where I relish the unknown. I accept there is fear associated with anything new and have learned to move past it. Monday, July 11, 2005
I have just read a harrowing account of a rescuer's experience of the London bombings. The description of what seemed to be a pile of clothes turning out to be a woman with all her limbs blown off will stay with me. I have also been listening to Paulo Coelho's the Alchemist, a book about following one's heart. Anger can burn deep and never end, how does one tell the difference between what the heart has to say and what anger has to say ? My brothers and most of my family work in London. I never want to wonder where they are after a bomblast. The few minutes delay it tool to contact them on 07/07 was enough to upset me. The individuals who planned this attack have miscalculated. A city that took the nightly slaughter of the Blitz is not going to be cowed by their bombs. When I first moved to Manchester it had just been bombed by the IRA, it makes the resistance against terrorists stronger not weaker. Again a lesson lost on the bombers; fanatics poisoned by their own words. Links Courtesy of blogLinker.com   |
