Diego on the left won three games, Mark two and I two. Great dart machine! Keeps tabs on everything, all you have to do is shoot.
Excerpt from journal … Ripoll, Spain …. I arrived after a nice apparition through the Pyrenees to the sea and back up again, to enjoy the mountain autumn air, landing in Ripoll for the night before the throes of Barcelona the next day, in the end deciding to stay another night, to wander the streets under the sun of the day, between the rows of windows revealing mountainous dreams, all blurry they are in it’s reflection; translucent quandries there before my eyes; Supertramp’s gleeful singing after a rainy night’s stay; ‘Take a look at my girlfriend, she’s the only one I got’, yes she says, ‘You’re the only one I got’, dancing with words from a bunch of confused letters trying to say what they want, think, are, just there; fornicating with reality, fucking the unknown, spreading seeds of thought around the world’s of his own lugubrious mind, not really that concerned about anything really, except what is real and truly hopeful. This is what you mean don’t you asked the letters already engaged… yes, this is what I mean answered some period completely bored and unaffected except by it’s end.
There are images everywhere, but most of us don’t want to see them, we prefer to sing with the best, to cherish the moments and to lie with the rest. Oh no it’s not true, but it is, when you consider the many few that don’t go anywhere but where they are just now, standing there all circumposed and satisfied beyond belief. I don’t know, I am as sure as I am as wrong as the other one, but I thought I’d try anyway . ….
ListenToThis ….AnEarlyRecordingOfATruth
and the outcome of such a song … AndThenTheTuneJustWatchingTheWheels
Excerpt from journal … the Fly’s visit me here hiding in this room with open window, Yobbo’s having a look’see, marching in from streets of Din, all wide eyed uncouth, Daena’s Zarathushtrian army flying in through a guise of undisputed truths, always searching for more and more disciples, always spreading economic disease across languid seas; food for the mouths of Poets some would say, while we suffer and lament over such obvious atrocities; buzzing through days and nights with wings alongside Nirvana’s lights blowing out fires for free, but no one sees anything, just the same old useless flights in and out of this little square window.
“A poet makes himself a visionary through a long, boundless, and systematized disorganization of all the senses. All forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he exhausts within himself all poisons, and preserves their quintessences. Unspeakable torment, where he will need the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, where he becomes all men: the great invalid, the great criminal, the great accursed—and the Supreme Scientist! For he attains the unknown! Because he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone! He attains the unknown, and, if demented, he finally loses the understanding of his visions, he will at least have seen them! So what if he is destroyed in his ecstatic flight through things unheard of, unnameable: other horrible workers will come; they will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen!”
Rimbaud, Arthur (1957). Louise Varèse. ed. Illuminations, and Other Prose Poems
ClickHereToListenToInAMannerOfSpeaking
Except from journal …. everything is disguised as the obvious, miles of places seen and maybe never known, but they’re all there for the masked ones with curses on some sleeves, devils dancing the limbo, always ducking underneath, always there but never around; these are the faces we see there lying before us all honest and true; these are the ones who deserve a better beginning than the last; all torn up and ashamed and true to nature’s own self again. Translation: there is no devil, just oneself, one who won’t see what is already there before us, staring through something we don’t yet understand, flowers growing in a row, distant leaves fallen long before, answers long forgotten and just the same; designed to enlighten we who see such misery all around though never complain. ….
Alright, that’s enough of that ….
In the morning I went down to my bike, and Senora of the hotel, another family affair, had left me some band aids, and biscuits or something I don’t know I haven’t opened them up yet. But there they were on the bike, I went back down and said thank you of course, and she said It is nothing. I had snipped my index finger while picking the Granache grapes back at Cazaban, and they noticed a couple of days ago when I was asking for some tape to stick the band-aid together cause it wasn’t sticking. (the women give food and prayers, the men tools and knives) Anyway, after breathing in the cool fresh mountain air while having a smoke, I headed for the easy 140 km ride to Barcelona.
Before leaving, I had found a hostel online that was the right price and still centrally located, and used the GPS Address function to direct me to the place, but I just couldn’t get to the street with all the oneways and pedestrian traffic only roads, also I could see the worried stress of the GPS during all this, so I rode around in circles for an hour, before finally giving up thinking, they aren’t going to have a place for the bike, so I rode around Barcelona, minding not to hit or get hit by another speeding moto, while searching for hotel signs while scanning the entrances to see if it was possible to ride a bike inside. After another two hours of this, I came close a couple of times but didn’t like the price, or the parking, or the # star vibe. I was so close to saying fuck it, I’m outta here, I’m going back to the Pyrenees, but then one hotel reception dude said, please my friend, go to the info place just around the corner and ask them for a good rate, for the correct number of nights you want to stay and for parking before it’s too late, the weekend is coming. So I did, and the woman gave me directions on a map to a place five minutes away. I used the GPS again so as not to make a mistake, well really actually, to have help navigating while riding in the traffic, as is always the case when entering a new city. I’d love to video tape my eyes cause they really must be racing, but then I wouldn’t see anything at all except that camera. Anyway I got there, they had a room for three nights, they had secure private parking underneath, and it was cheaper than the hostel I had first researched at 60 Euro’s a night, in downtown Barcelona, that’s pretty good, but still way heftier than what I’ve been paying for the last several months. But better yet, without the hassle of the excited youth in the hostel vibe, (which to be honest I enjoy, just not always, and no offense to the beautiful youths), I really feel like going back to the info place to thank that woman again, she nailed it.
Once checked in, I started to pull away on the bike from the lobby to the parking entrance 5 metres away, and just as I did, mind you from behind two large bins, an old man on a bicycle came cutting in from behind the bins and we both had to stop suddenly for he would have T-boned me. I however lost my balance, and let the bike fall. The old man jumped off his bike and the driver of a car beside leapt out so quickly and started picking up the bike without a word, before we all drove away. Not a word needed, todo nada, let’s just get on with it everyone was thinking. Once inside, I went outside for a nice long walk about.
These artists are all over the world in any centre, beautifully crafted outfits with outlandish, intelligent, thought provoking ways. I’ll take more pictures tomorrow, better bring a pocket full of change. Anyway this guy had a huge gathering, and rightfully so. He had me for a couple of minutes while I was taking pictures, looking around and tipping him of course. It’s so simple, yet so curiously magic like it’s hard not to be fooled. Genius, the best one I’ve seen anywhere. Note to self, when you get back to Canada you can do this for a living maybe eh?
On the way back to the neighbourhood of my hotel, Open Hotel if anyone needs a reasonable place to stay in the heart of things, I found a book shop to get a couple more books for I’ve been reading only a few pages at a time from the one I’ve been hesitant to finish. I started off with only one book from Canada, ‘Meditations’, and then in South Africa ‘Dharma’, then in Egypt, ‘Kerouac’, and now I have almost ten books, and somehow even though I have many more things than I left with, I still find the room, though the bike is getting heavier and heavier with all those words and trees … ironic really.
Thank you, Merci Beaucoup Christian ….
Kids and dogs, my two favourite things ….
Excerpt from email …. thank you for the photos Christian … I never hardly get these ones …. and I’m always very greatfull when I do, because I never knew you were
taking them. And also thank you for the invitation, you never know I
may just show up there …. quam minimum credula postero …. Carpe Diem …. and as you know …
I hear the men laughing and the women squeal, I hear the men after the women say nothing …. and then silence, a kind of quietude that is not here or there, just the men talking all out of breath adding things over and over …. I don’t know …. I hear them and I think, where did the women go … and what are you talking about con Espanole? I wish I had a whore, my own woman who wasn’t mine, just the one to go’a round and round with on some merrygoround, the one who says it isn’t so …. the one just lying there all naked and true …. maybe not the one’s above my roof just now … but the other one’s listening by themselves …
In the morning I went down to the bowels of the building to check on the bike, before heading out to the streets.
This is great! Locals pay I don’t know what for a card they flash in front of a screen, take a bike to where ever, leaving it in another location. I’ve seen the maintenance truck shuffling bicycles from one place to another too, fantastic. I really wanted to take one for a spin, and asked a young lady if she would let me use her card to take a bicycle guaranteeing her I would return the bike when finished, but she said she couldn’t, for the card will only allow one to take one bicycle at a time, otherwise she said she would. There’s gotta be a way around that I was thinking when I said thank you before he and she carried on their ways. ‘Carried on their ways’, uhmmmm, something for the journal ….
Now, I’ve told a few of my friends this before, but I’d like to reach out to a wider audience to say this again, ‘I hate Burberry!’ And what did I do today, but ran right into the store by mistake, and there I was standing there looking at ‘The Burberry Store’, ugh, all those friggin boring patterns with the label associated to a high class society drive me crazy; even poor people have them; even the fake ones with their not so perfect patterns and material, ugh, I hate Burberry, but even more so I hate the word ‘hate’, so let me rephrase, ‘I can’t stand Burberry, not the sight of it or the look of it.
Now this however is splendid and awe inspiring ….
Casa Batllo ….
Not a straight line in the place. I could have taken a zillion pictures but I get tired of taking pictures all the time, and it was so peaceful inside, unlike the Vatican which was the last touristy place I went to before here in this gorgeous home of Gaudi.
What a great name for a major street eh?
And this too, I love the Spanish humour of their words ….
And do you know what else I like, since apparently I’m all ‘like and dislike’ today. I really like hearing other languages speaking English in their own ways, with their own use of the same words. They really remind of the strength of one word, almost like I’d never heard the word before, know what I mean? I especially adore the meaning of other languages too, how their words seem to carry much more weight, one single word that is. Well without getting into a debate with myself, English words require more, but that being said, I don’t know what I’m talking about in my own language let alone someone else’s.
I have to put on my helmet when I don’t know what to say or do …. it just feels right on my head there by itself all smothered in something … all knowing … all there but not really, just looking one might say ….
Excerpt from journal … Every thing now is flowing like a big magical dream, I can feel people looking at me again differently, my words are truer than they’ve ever been, even to myself, I wonder about the beautiful wonderings in this world, yeah, you look like a Ragamuffin you do my friend, looking in a mirror for everyone to see, standing there looking at all and all looking at you, staring at disbelief, laughing with themselves, while contemplating foreign things … how many hours from Canada to Barcelona? 30×15=450 days=hours=10,800hours I think maybe so, I don’t know. I don’t care, but many people do it seems, all there and not, leaving things behind like the time of day we look for all the time. Ugh, Burberry.
Excerpt from journal …. yes another excerpt, ‘I’ve gotta stop doing this said the boy inside the man, Shut up already echoed the man again. Jesus Murphy you’re driving me crazy. Who is?’, they both thought at the same time ….
…. I just love Spanish, sorry to the other languages I too adore. I even told Senora the Maid, after I said, no please it’s not necessary for you to clean my room, I already made the bed, washed the sink and hung my clothes to dry, but if you choose to do so I understand, for this your home is it not, away from homes, I said in my broken Spanish, ‘Mi amore Espanole’ I exclaimed deliberately just then. And she, the wee little old one rattled off so much Spanish I couldn’t understand a thing, yeah, all Catalan, I heard her say I love that you love all Spanish, you are welcome here in my heart and all places apart, todo Espanole si! – and they carried on their ways – flipping through pages of a magazine she was stopping to contemplate the corner of one with her fingers examining the interests of others while she bathed under the sun both simple and complete, listening to her own blue eyes as the old poor woman came asking for money, ‘No, no lo say’ she said most defiantly, stirring her espresso over and over again like the Gods of an unruly nation, each finger turning another page that sells beauty products for another torrid affair; letters never written, loves’ just like before. Though she is pretty I thought all confused like the one over there waiting for a bus she can’t get on, pacing back and forth wondering why it takes so long. Yes, some things take time, and there look! She who knows exactly what she wants, to be in a magazine she says with those hips giving something for free before she locks herself inside. Hey and look at that guy, he knows just how to make it fit; keys dangling from a ring, as the other one waits at the store window like a dog on a leash wondering what is so important about all those clothes you can’t possibly buy, could you? Yeah, this is just a normal day here inside this magazine all pretty and torn; an apparition with nervous disambiguations, paths not entirely complete but moving forward just the same; explaining something is better than nothing eh. Yeah, but why that magazine, what is in there that you’d want to spend four Euros for? Why not buy a book and read something so sweet, not that gossip you see there talking shit. Oh dear, it’s time to put down the pen and walk around some …. but then where, where will you go everyone asks all the time, I don’t know, I never know where I am and I’m always going back just so you know, besides what do you care, reading that magazine with your eyes staring at a useless page? I’m gonna go North, that’s where I’m going …. into the cold frigid air of the Truth, between the lamp posts and cylinders, around the plains of thoughtlessness. Oh nice one they concurred together, where is that anyway? Oh well, I don’t know, over there I suppose. I’ll let you know when I get there, and send you a postcard with a picture someone else has already taken there before me, John and Yoko staring at Niagara falls for example, saying, ‘I wish you were here’, and I do, I really do wish you were here.
Sometimes, the less said is better, no lo say, less is more kind of thinking I was seeing walking along this way ….
Ahh Coggs, great to see you there, and as always with great face, never waning always waxing ….. ClickHereCoggs
Yeah, all there and uninviting you are wrapped up in your clothes, sitting in a cab all wondrous and free, looking at something you see in your eyes, the same place but different, just there all alone it’s true maybe yeah, maybe like the one who comes in with her desperate man, afraid to be alone with him, and he she, twitching her head back and forth looking for someplace neutral to stand, he just looking for a place. Yeah, that’s what I see everywhere I go, not to sound pessimistic, I just see it is all; and nothing to be concerned about, for it changes from day to day, but I see it there all selfish and true, turning over like a leaf …. no it’s not the same thing, this and that, there or any other place it’s true, it just isn’t, and it is, that moment you argue with the one you love, the time you say what you didn’t know you could, how did that get there thought the man on the moon, looking down at some civilization he had just seen for the first time, yeah like that turning leaf someone mentioned before, rolling over there regardless ….
Pessimism, from the Latin pessimus (worst), is a state of mind in which one perceives life negatively. Value judgments may vary dramatically between individuals, even when judgments of fact are undisputed. The most common example of this phenomenon is the “(Is the glass half empty or half full?)” situation. The degree in which situations like these are evaluated as something good or something bad can be described in terms of one’s (optimism) or pessimism respectively. Throughout history, the pessimistic disposition has had effects on all major areas of thinking[1]. Basically If someone is a pessimist, they are known as ‘A negative thinker’
Philosophical pessimism is the similar but not identical idea that life has a negative value, or that this world is as bad as it could possibly be. It has also been noted by many philosophers that pessimism is not a disposition as the term commonly connotes. Instead, it is a cogent philosophy that directly challenges the notion of progress and what may be considered the faith-based claims of optimism.
A storm was thrown at the East side of Spain with heavy wind and rain, vehicles turned over, shops flooded while people marveled at their little Mediterranean hurricane from a fair distance away. So I waited in my room in Barcelona, lying on my bed listening to the trees with their fall leaves just hanging on, watching TV, going out only to eat when I was starved, drinking water and smoking cigarettes until my back was sore from lethargy. It’s funny or should I say reassuring when the weather feels the same as you, all at once and for good reason; just as a moth is taken by a light. I could have gone, but I don’t like to start my day in the rain. If an hour in it starts raining then so be it, but to start this way with the wind, forget it. So I caught up with the news, and the way the news is repeated over and over when you don’t turn off the TV. I watched shows in Spanish, Italian, French, German, Japanese and Mandarin (one of them I don’t know which). By the end of the second full day of TV, I waited up all night for the Chilean Miners to be saved, finally giving up at two or three in the morning, waking up briefly to turn on the TV, to see that the first one had come up and then went back to sleep. Excerpt from journal …. It’s not man landing on the moon, but the Chilean Miners hopefully being pulled out from 2000 feet under, well it’s almost the same as being shot up into space, and then of course becoming a spectacle, which holds mixed messages; sunshine and rain, justice and capital punishment, life and death. Though with all the precise tightening of bolts and things, well one just wants then to pull them up right away, but as always one must take baby steps, unless it’s a man overboard at sea and by then it’s already to late, but then again, ‘If it ain’t broke don’t fix it’, or ‘Squeaky wheel gets the grease’, or ‘Don’t put all your eggs in one basket’ yeah, no lo say, and I hope none of this makes any sense after they’ve been saved, says a mutual believer with another good reason. I also wept in those two days, after the ‘Dog Whisperer’, who I didn’t know existed on TV, well I saw him do his thing episode after episode in a row con Espanole and I was amazed when he got these two dogs walking on either side of him, after they wanted to rip out their throats for most of the episode. I understand the process but it’s nice to see a guy who knows too (fear). Yep, it was a dark couple of days; for Beck and my darling Lady.
I forced myself up early without much sleep, to save myself from drowning, and hit the road. Yahooo! But sorry to say good’bye to Spanish again, the only language of all the languages I can’t speak but better than the rest, including the pantomime of course. Ahh and also the news got me going, saying there were all ready reports of fuel shortages in the south of France because of the ‘manifestations’, so I reasoned even though I knew the media was probably making a bigger deal of it than was the truth, maybe projecting in advance a little too much probably, but I couldn’t take the chance for I promised my father to be in the south of England to house sit while he and his lady Sidonie are away for a while. I hope the French people win their cause, all the people, but just to make sure I’m heading for Switzerland to see a few friends on the way to England.
