These pictures don’t reflect my description, but I rode off the ferry barely able to see for it was dark from the blanket of heavy clouds and rain, so I just followed my GPS without question, not even looking at my paper map for reference, just go I was thinking, ‘Stay left look right, stay left look right’.
I pulled into St. Leonards, East Sussex, and parked in front of Tony and Sidonie’s home.
First thing to do was to put all of my stuff in garbage bags and take through the house to the back to leave outside. Even the clothes I was wearing I put in bags, and then took a hot shower and borrowed some of my father’s clothes. I didn’t want to leave any chance for contamination.
The next morning my Dad walked me down into town to show me around a little. A laundromat was my first job, to wash all the clothes in hot water with a hot dry.
Anyone who is a son or a daughter, which all of us are, know what it’s like to return home and to rest and relax comfortably … my father also gave me some tools to roll cigarettes, which is one of the most significant ironies of all, to help his son save a few bucks while appeasing an addiction he himself has already given up.
Ahh and another of the most striking pleasantries of being in one’s native land is the language, for now I no longer have to think about what to say and how to say it, or which English words to use and the speed of which I use them. Now I can just let my brain and my tongue do and say as they wish, and yet I still am in the habit of pausing to think of how to say something(which if I was a psychologist I would have to disagree with myself for in English too I do as well pause for my brain which is so slow and contemplative anyway), though that is slowly waning (yeah right quipped the other guy) . And TV! English wit and humour is a fond friend, even if I had just flown directly from Canada I would feel the difference just the same.
After cleaning all my stuff, the next task was to find a place I can park my bike, somewhere more secure than the street, but somewhere also I can work on the bike and to park or ride away. The first person I asked has a second hand furniture warehouse with a huge gated yard in the front just around the corner from here. I talked with the old man for about ten minutes but he wasn’t interested in the concept, fearing as many people naturally fear, he saw only the negative side of things and politely said so. I wanted to reassure him of some of his worries but I didn’t bother, for from the get go he was on the retreat. He didn’t even seem to take a moment of thought when I said I had come here by motorcycle from Canada. I suppose this is one of the things I will have to get used to, no one gives a shit and why should they? I know this from my own experiences back home; the narrowness of every day living, the cold side of a first world life.
Last night I watched a movie my Dad shot with my brother’s camera, the 40th reunion of Cheyenne Winter and their members, from a show Tony directed for a series in Edmonton or Calgary back in the day called, ‘Come Together’. The connections are so real ….. I was memorized by this very short remember, arrive on Friday night leave Sunday, but yet so much was said with music, talk and love. While I was watching and listening, I thought of waves with waves and how they synchronize haphazardly to come together as one big ocean, it was a great acknowledgment of such talented souls, people I know and people who knew me when I was a child. The finale was a great jam with Chicago’s 25 or 6 to 4. Really great to see and listen, great job Dad! Unfortunately where my father was storing all of his work, well they sold out to HP, and now all the films you could have seen are no longer there for your viewing. Anyway, something will come again but here’s my father’s website if you need anything creatively done click here YesterdayStudio
And then later in the evening while Sidonie and Tony were packing for their hard earned vacation in Tunisia, I was watching yet again ‘The Dog Whisperer’, thinking maybe that’s what I’ll do when I get back if the movie business is still in turmoil, for I thought of this before I left; instead of the LA teeth of the Latin American Ceasar for TV, I will walk the dogs and make friends for my living; for I’ve said over and over in my journal and this site that my two favourite things are children and dogs, well… maybe we shall see. Anyway, he’s a good dog guy that Ceasar …. he understands.
Well …. I don’t know what to say when another society, culture and race don’t feel compassion for every day people killed by some kind of love of life, I just can’t think like they the one’s like me who can’t think straight, what do you want from your short life I always think eh, and what would you like for tomorrow while I wile away thinking what would be nice …. for it’s too simple for words alone …. anyway, a tasteless way to make a point I figure as I supposed….
Excerpt from journal …. In relation to FTG about the fools who retaliated during a time of mourning, I say to you that you do not follow your religion religiously, and that if you really wanted retribution, you should go after your own God himself for he is the one you mean to murder according to your ways, and that goes for all peoples’ different and varied stringent beliefs.
Adam my bro and Visionraiser himself who is he, have been trying to make my sight/site better to see, without the ‘fluid state’, which wraps words around pictures automatically which is something I don’t see being the one who just types and adds photos. And anyway, we are experimenting with an alternative, to see how my little wee brain can adapt with something different. All the while, Adam has been encouraging me to engage with the new concept but I said not until I return to some kind of solid ground which is now apparently, even though it reminds me of when I was planning this trip in the first place, the time when one asked or said, ‘Where will you go and you are so brave’, even though I hadn’t even moved an inch. This time now reminds me of such a place …. when uncertainty lies bare naked, prompting you along from dog’s leash, ‘come this way and sit like that’. Anyway …. there is a lot of good that comes from difference, so here it is in it’s simplest phase like saying good-bye to an old friend …..
ClickHereMaybe (don’t click here, that was then and this is now)
“Just a simple test for us Adam … xo”
Only a few seconds that should have been more …..
I’m immersed in another difference just the same as some other ones before, here in the first world as they say, mooing like a cow all over again.
Seems good, can handle the difference maybe so, wrapped inside a cloud’s confusion blowing all over the place ….. peace out bro …. later the next day …. trouble with the photos but learning ….
Whew, just had my first bath in a year and a half, while listening to Floyd ….. muy tranquillo …..
These are just a couple of pictures I took of the fresh Bed Bug Bites while in the room in Paris. I had them all over my body including my arse. I’m showing these because I can’t believe that a tiny bug you can barely see (in fact I never found one), that the size of a freckle can cause this reaction to the skin. Now after two plus weeks, the scabs have fallen off and believe it or not, are still a little itchy as the skin finishes the last of the healing process (I had to use the cream I had with cortisone for the rash from Columbian mosquitoes to heal the bed bug bites) . I had about fifty bites, and all I can say is if this happens to you, don’t bring them to your home as they hide in luggage and currently there is a huge problem in New York hotels and other big travel distentions. In some five star hotels, they greet their guests and take their luggage to clean all the clothes and bags before brought to the room. Since the removal of DDT’s, they have become prominent once again. If you are travelling, check under the mattress for dark spots left from their feces or behind the headboard. Creepy eh. But don’t worry, in all the beds in the last 18 months it only happened to me once, or twice I’m not sure what got me in an Ethiopian room.
Excerpt from journal …. November 16th, 2010 … I was looking forward to my first massage in a year and a half of being on the road, for this is one of the luxuries I will spend money on rather than other such things like clothes or what have you, but I was most disappointed by the Shiatsu session given to me. Overall my energy is quite lost and toward the negative side of things as I find myself lost in my journey, unable to cross Russia Mongolia to return to Canada due to the time of year at present. Anyway, I figured the Shiatsu would be the perfect start to rethinking things another way, so I found a clinic online and researched the two therapists blindly by reading their words, and decided quite easily which energy best suited me. When I arrived for my appointment a woman was speaking quietly with the head receptionist/manager about money, and I heard the therapist’s name that I was to see mentioned within the conversation and I have to say I felt relieved that I’d made the right choice based on the sound of their words, even though she wasn’t in the room (which I have to say is a form of understanding that I’ve been learning all my life but has intensified since being on the road and having to depend on my observations of sound and mannerisms, not understanding the many languages). After awkwardly listening to the woman who hadn’t noticed I had entered and was sitting on the couch I continued to listen to her confusing words, though it was then I learned that the woman I was betting on to sync my mind and body was unavailable today as planned, and that I would be receiving my treatment from the befuddled one. I may have been spoiled from years of going to my neighbourhood Shiatsu clinic, Otani, on Roncessvalles in my old hood in Toronto for so many years, but this really was awful. Firstly, during the consultation I told her that I’ve had an injured wrist and thumb since Kenya, and a sore neck wearing a windy helmet for so long, though I’ve been able to massage out mostly myself. After she was wanting me to lie on the table and two times I had to say, ‘But don’t you want me to change from these jeans into these loose pants?’ ‘Oh yes sorry’, and she left the room. When she returned I took off the tensor bandage I was wearing and three times during the treatment she tried to work freely with the wrist and each time I had to remind her that it was not possible for me to relax my hand for fear of her injuring me further, ‘Oh yeah’ she kept saying. Then it was, ‘Can you lie on your stomach please, can you turn on your side, on the other side, on your back again …. ‘, not so tranquil. And her methods, oh my … as with any massage I’ve ever had, whether it be Shiatsu, Swedish or whatever, each person is reading or writing a different book from their hands and your body and responses, but she didn’t seem to know how to read, for her actions were scattered and unsure, unlike her outward confidence. It was horrible, I couldn’t relax for she never had me relaxed once for my mind couldn’t stop trying to read her hands that couldn’t finish even a simple sentence. I kept telling myself to let her in regardless of what she was doing, let her in, don’t be negative. I tried and tried, but then she would speak to me loudly, ‘Is this too much pressure Markus?’, ‘What are you even here I was thinking? Where is the fluidity of your mind, your thoughts and your hands? Please I was begging, just follow through with one of your moves, why do you keep changing your mind over and over again, you are not here, you are not here.’ Later she stopped and said ‘Relax Markus’. So I lay there with my eyes still closed and then she took a drink of water, sat down sighing heavily and proceeded to write on my new chart I assume and at great length, the sound of that pen on paper for so long I was thinking what is she writing about like a doctor in a sterile environment? This isn’t so relaxing I concluded. Finally I asked if we were finished and she said, ‘Yes, but get up very very slowly.’ Oh come on. So I got up standing there with my jeans in my hand while she asked me questions about my travels, and yet seemingly wanted me to hurry up and go I could see from her body language (plus down in the reception earlier I heard her say she wanted to leave the building at a certain time, but for the sake of argument, I could see this in her posture), anyway I couldn’t leave because she wouldn’t leave the room for me to put my jeans back on (even though I would do it in front of her but I don’t want to suggest or offend the older woman), ‘Oh yes sorry’, and she left the room. I really do miss the students and professionals at the Shiatsu Clinic in Toronto. After one of their sessions when you are so relaxed and your body is silently vibrating, they, both men and women, would faintly whisper in your ear before shuffling quietly away in their slippers, ‘Please, take your time.’ Sometimes I would lie there for fifteen minutes before I would open my eyes before slowly getting off the table to change clothes, oh dear I was thinking while this woman pretended to heal with great deliverance, so now I am missing all that I had before, comparing one with another, lost in the middle of a journey not yet complete.
Actually many things crossed my mind during this Shiatsu, jaws clenched; for I was thinking also how in the last week or so, even though I’ve been pretty sedate and non-exploring, how I haven’t run into too many coincidences lately (duh). For me coincidences, or coincidental timings are the bread and butter of my soul. When I find that I don’t run into situations and encounters by accident, I begin to feel unsettled thinking maybe, ‘Why is it I am not encountering life in those unusual ways just now; why don’t the molecules speak to me?’ So, the omnipresent silver lining arrived again today after my disappointing Shiatsu, when I stopped for a beer on the 40 minute walk home. I was writing furiously for the first twenty minutes before a peaceful guy was looking at me, for I could see from the corner of my eye, the energy of Paul I later found out forcing me to look so to speak so I did. ‘That’s an old cap’, he said. ‘Yep, but it’s a young cap with a lot of miles’, I answered. He stepped closer, ‘Where are you from? Canada. Really, there was an Indian man here in Essex long ago who came here from Canada to teach English, his name was Grey Owl. Yes I know of him I answered, and he stepped closer. He laughed and said something else but I was thinking he’s coming into my space now, too close too soon; he’s different, he’s one of me maybe. Finally he asked to sit down and I said yes, gesturing to a seat at my table which hopefully would mean he wouldn’t come within my two foot barrier. I went for a smoke shortly after, not because of Paul, but because I wanted to, and he joined me half way through. He is a traveller, decades of travel in a van within Europe with a small stint in Africa which he said was terminated, his favourite love I can tell was in Spain, though now he is in St. Leonards with his new partner and her child, committed not to leave to travel again. After he heard from me my point form story, he wanted my blog address, even though he doesn’t use a computer, not even for email, but he will have his gal help him in to see. I hope I don’t make you addicted to the computer I added. No it’s okay really he repeated over and over, I want to follow your journey. Well, I’m only here right now and not going anywhere at the moment. That’s okay, thank you. Hey what’s your name anyway I asked. Paul. I’m Markus. He smiled and we said our good-byes for the time being.
Long story short, I’m happy the coincidences are happening again, so maybe the Shiatsu woman wasn’t so bad after all, though I would beg to differ just the same. She didn’t even introduce herself, which is a very strange thing considering you are going to pay them to touch you in ways you wouldn’t allow from a perfect stranger like herself (well other than the other I’m told). I’m going on too much about this, but will end by saying I really appreciate those therapists who are truly talented …
After researching for the last few days on the net about my clutch hand, I decided this morning not to go to the hospital to get it x-ray’d, which was the plan originally. The hospital, because the first clinic I went to couldn’t get me in on an appointment, sit and wait was the deal first thing in the morning maybe. The walk-in clinic that I walked to after handing her the 35 Sterling and sitting down to wait for the inevitable, ‘You need an x-ray thank you very much good-bye’, well the receptionist suggested I go to the hospital where the xray machine was instead, for it would save me money, and she even called out a doctor from the room to confirm this is the route I should take … ‘Thank you ladies’. So today I decided I didn’t need to go, I can heal this from the info on the net thinking, I won’t have a note from the doctor and they won’t see me without one and the xray’s will cost a lot. Yes I have travel insurance that supposedly will wisk me away from the lonely roads somewhere in the middle, but I figured I could save a hundred or so if I took a 1000 dollar deductible instead of 500 which was true fearing the worst at the time and the most expensive kind of accident plausible without death, yeah I know I’m just like everybody else, hedging my bet so to speak.
Anyway my Aunt Steph said after we were discussing life in busy emails that still feel a great deal of time without too much thought, ‘Maybe I should go and make sure just in case’, she echoed. Damn, I was completely set on not going but left shortly after that.
At the hospital they were really cool, and said no problem you won’t have to pay a thing unless admitted to the hospital. 30 minutes later she said right away, ‘You’ve got a serious case of tendinitis in your wrist, feel this …. ‘, and I did, ‘Feels like bone it’s so tight. I’ve got to bring my colleague in here to feel this, this is really pronounced and a good example’. As we all know, the beginning life for a medic is in Emerg, or a war, for the reality is exaggerated for a reason anyway which is good eh?
Yeah so she strapped an efficient splint on me and just as I was leaving she said, ‘Let me get another for a spare since you’re on a bike and have a long way to go’. Two minutes later she came back saying, ‘Where did you go?’ ‘I’m over here’, I answered as the other doctor wanted me to move to the other side of that thin curtain for he had a young woman who was really sick in some quick internal way who needed to lie down. Hospitals are better than those commercials you see that want you to help TV, just go to the reception hospital and you will see every second of the day; for we all need help eh; and thankfully there is … which is really amazing when you consider the alternative. I can’t tell you how many times I have thought about the time my vision increased so far and so rapidly at the same moment I realized I was maybe gonna hit that truck. For you film people, it’s that old pull the dolly back tracks while pushing in gag, which is a good one at the right time, which was Tanzania for me. Anyway, where did I go, oh yeah, I remember thinking while the village was looking at me when the truck had rolled away while I smoked a cigarette looking at them too shaking so, thinking what they were thinking, ‘Good thing you didn’t splash the truck, for it doesn’t matter what type of insurance you have then eh, no 100 dollar deductible will save you then.’ Here’s the hospital, but still I think I have some broken bones at the bottom of my left thumb but relieved anyway that they said it would be okay, partial judgment there I feel.
Queen Victoria took one in the right leg or through her dress from an attacking squadron in WWII; crazy eh, and it’s happening now, I know yeah, it’s so weird to comprehend the rest of the world even on TV. Anyway, this point is as I said to the nurse who asked the great question, ‘Has it been worth it?’, ‘Yeah … just knowing I can tell you one thing I know for sure …. the people will come together …. for we help each other mostly along the way anyway’. And as a person of science is naturally, she walked away carrying the information she knows already in that stealth of hers ….
This book store is jam packed with books, and yet I haven’t been in there but I will once finished with the one I’m reading.
By the way, as you can see, my brother finished the arduous task of going back from the beginning and transferring all the pictures and all the words, which you can imagine is a tremendous amount of work. Not to mention he created the first FTG for me as well, which is one of the greatest gifts I have received inside this little world. With this new site, I have more options to explore, and it also gives you the opportunity to comment and something about a guestbook which I don’t know much about yet. Oh and it looks much better too! Thanks Adam, I very much appreciate your talent and hard work, really really. If you want a website too and more, click here VISIONRAISER.
I know this part doesn’t belong in the England section but if I put in the Egypt section most of you won’t see it anyway. Today I wrote Rui on FB to wish him a happy birthday, and to say let’s meet for a beer in Wadi Halfa (which of course is not possible with no alcohol there), and he said sure see you in 15 minutes, and then he added, I’ll line up the Egyptian ladies. I had completely forgotten about this part of the trip, and that Rui had sent me some pictures a while back to show me what it was like while the Egyptian father of three daughters and wife, living in Wadi Halfa with at least two restaurants, they originally from Alexandria, there just for two years to make the money and run, well this conversation you will see was quite something. First though, are some other pictures that Dale took with Rui’s camera, which is really exciting to receive pictures from other cameras for another view than your own. That’s the fixer(Masir or Magdi) in Wadi that you will meet if you are taking the boat to Egypt, or vice versa.
Olga from Barcelona, who I missed by two days when I was there. She was travelling alone and heading for Ethiopia. And of course Rudi and Andreas
When the father and I were talking he was asking me questions about Canada, and what I did for a living and things like that until suddenly he was asking me how much money it would cost to pay me to sponsor him and his family to move to Canada, suggesting casually by describing his three daughters with one word each, something like, she work hard, she trouble, she getting married. When I had realized how the conversation had shifted due to my ignorance, I was suddenly shocked, and when all was done, Rui was grinning ear to ear saying he got it all on camera.
Rui and I discussing our difficult situation upon arrival in Aswan, Egypt, having two fixers, and one pissed off Egyptian Customs Officer who wanted his fixer to be first, while Rudi was still being contained by police on the boat from Wadi Halfa.
And then the Wadi Halfa gang having a cold beer by the pool in Aswan. Miss you fellas. Rudi and Andreas where are you now?
For almost three weeks now, well (chuckle here), I’ve been watching a lot of TV. Yes I do things outside and all the things inside my head but, some days I just watched TV. So many channels, so many interesting documentaries, and so many trashy shows I’ll watch a little just to see.
When I’m out walking around, I have a lot of those moments when I’m walking toward someone and we go this way and that way and go that way and this way, and I always chuckle after we agree on the sides to walk and say sorry as we walk by. After a while I would say to myself, What’s the matter with these people here, I can never recall so many ‘this way and that way moments’ in such a short time, including Ethiopia or the comedic Sudan Cow. And then I got to thinking about this thinking, how is this place the same or different than all the other places in the last while and I thought, not any more or less crowded, and I’ve been in Europe since October so it’s not that, so it must be me, for I’m the one who feels that I was the one to start the dance, which is not always a bad thing really cause I usually get a good reaction, but really I think it’s cause I’m not sure of where I am walking. Yes I know, this is no different than the last 16 months either but maybe it is eh, for I am no longer moving forward so to speak, and therefore find my mind is not as clear to others of who I am or where I am going. Also the other day I laughed out loud, after not riding my bike at all since arriving here, that we drive on the left side of the road here, so naturally people walking are always going to move to the left when there is a moment of indecision. So now I’m happy to say, it’s still happening though not us much, for now I believe I’m thinking too much, and not walking where I’m going. Hahahahaaa.
I watched ‘Into The Wild’ for the second time since before this trip. The first time in Edmonton which I’ve written about somewhere in here, probably before this trip, about the strange coincidences of the finding of this film in my DVD player at the time. Anyway the short story is, this was the movie that sold the deal on the decision and eventual realization of this bike ride.
In downtown Hastings, they’ve built a nice ice rink to skate on, even with a snow blowing machine to make a nice Canadian Christmas, just not 30 below is all, whew.
I found this bike shop here in St. Leonards on Sea, where I’m staying with my father and his wife Sidonie or her husband, Cosmo Classic Motorcycles, and spoke with Cosmo the owner of this classy shop, about buying some oil from him and to do the change in his shop. ‘No problem,’ he said, ‘bring your bike down’, so I did. He rolled the bike into the back of this shop since 1962 I think, and I can’t tell you how awesome this little shop is. Cosmo has been the owner for the last five years, and briefly shared the history of the shop, originally stables for the house above. He’s got all these classic bikes that he works on, and sells too, absolutely beautiful. You guys and gals that love these bikes would love this shop, just like ‘The Cavern’, one of the first haunts for The Beatles. His helper Jack fixed us some tea and Cosmo left me alone to change the oil offering all the little things that make a huge difference when you are on the road and don’t have your own facilities. It’s just like you say Jan with your ’43 Harley(the Liberator) all around the America’s from the north down, the big bike companies including Harley don’t care, just the wee one’s who love bikes in the smallest and greatest of ways.
And then I found this …. for you mechanics, please tell me how this has happened. Stainless steel re-usable filter I’ve had for two years, done probably 15 oil changes in the last while and the last in the south of France, some 3000km’s ago maybe. It has collapsed inwardly, and more metal again, slivers and smudge. This has been happening since South Africa, the same amount of metal present, no chunks. The feeling among other bike people and mechanics is that it might be just the clutch plates, or the gears or the bearing and such but, how did this filter collapse I was wondering. Any ideas? Since my bro created this new site, you can comment within this post, just like a motorcycle forum maybe yeah! How can this happen like this I wonder so?
Here is Cosmo and his newlywed Bride (I’m sorry I didn’t get your name but will add here later when I see you two again), just back from their honeymoon in Cornwall where I’m heading to see my Aunt Steph and Uncle John and maybe Ben or Lauren I don’t know, sometime this week if it isn’t too friggin cold for biking …. oh and Cosmo gave me a nice t-shirt with his logo, thanks Cosmo.
And here is Cosmo’s website ….. CosmoClassicMotorcycles
For my Spanish friends, you see, even the English understand the meaning of ‘Suerte’.
I got this idea from a friend on FB, but don’t like being a part of the process, and prefer to just take the idea and find out for myself, which is kinda maybe like being a lurker as they will say in the internet world, for me it’s just a matter of fact without all the bs that sites make you go through to find out something you can find out on your own. Anyway, the game was ‘What was the number one song on your birthdate?’ And as it turns out, this is mine …..
ReachOutI’llBeThereTheFourTops
Like a dog bowing hello ….
Well what can I say, when one is moving from somewhere to another ‘where’ somewhere different, one can find themselves exactly where they were in the first place. I am unable to go any further, which I knew since South America that the timing would not allow me to ride on, though I hadn’t really mentally prepared myself for this part of the trip, however nice it is to be here.
I spent two weeks hanging out at my Dad and Sid’s home while they were away, kinda drifting around not having any kind of plan, walking around, thinking and waiting for a good opportunity to ride out to Cornwall to see my Aunt, but that weather break never came, for it became colder and there were reports of some snow on it’s way.
Here the Smuggler’s Caves, which was a way for the French to sell tea, alcohol and other such commodities to England, the Brits people avoiding the heavily taxed nation, to pay for all their previous wars prior to the World Wars. The caves also served as a hospital in World War I, a bunker in World War II and a place to gather for music and dancing after the Wars. It is believed that in the beginning they were formed naturally, and then over thousands of years had been used by Nomadic people.
It was really interesting to be touching the walls of these sand caves, all the names inscribed all over the walls from all the years, and in the centre, some sort of praying area, was a carving that no one knows who carved but must have been done pre-Christian they figure. Since I was the only one visiting the caves, one of the staff came by to tell me some things that hadn’t been mentioned in the readings, for one the same place that this figure was carved, is 10 percent more humid than all the other corridors, and they can’t scientifically explain why.
And then my camera felt the pressure of the humidity so no more pictures.
And then the snow began again …
I stopped in this old pub to have a pint and to read, but was quickly interrupted by this young guy, celebrating his 25th birthday on his own, he started at 8 in the morning and by 3pm when I met him, he was well on his way. He asked if I wanted to shoot a game of pool so I said sure. One of the first things he said to me, in that abstract way, was that he wasn’t violent like his brothers who were always fighting on a Friday night. But later his passive aggressive ways seemed to me, well that he himself was going to get into a fight later on in the evening. So we had a couple of games of pool, he won both and I said I’d hate to play you when you’re sober, but he wasn’t coherent enough to understand anything outside of his head. So I bought him a beer and said that no I wouldn’t be joining him for the suicidal mission of his evening. And the weird thing is this guy, at 25 years old, had already had two heart attacks and a stroke, and a heart transplant, having being born with a small hole in his heart.
…. and of course it continued to snow, and snow, and snow.
This Lorry has been stuck on this road now for two days and nights, the driver sitting in his cab. Sidonie didn’t get home from work in London until two in the morning and she can’t get to work after two days. The UK is pretty much frozen solid, the trains aren’t working, and it seems not many can get around. The good news is the kids are having fun.
It’s really nice to learn more and more of my native land, I just wish I could ride around a little to ail my frozen bike.
Excerpt from journal …. The making of anything, like the behind the scenes is I believe much more interesting than the outcome, and to the greatest detail that no one could understand not even it’s creation’s creatures, not even them.
Well …. I’ve got so much to say I don’t feel like talkin’ … yep an’ yesiree … so I lathe in music of all sorts and I recommend the beginning of these tonight or today…. they do well together …..
…. this is non-mainstream as you know, but we all don’t figure out in the end of something that always begins with yeah eh? …. Everything, Nothing, And Something, bathing so lightly as to simmer, have obviously had some time with both. But what is the difference? Not knowing or knowing everything. It seems to me that we are within a constant battle to know everything instead of knowing nothing, which realistically no-one could argue about practically when one considers the history of the world hypothetically however differentially this could be eh. At least we don’t think so much maybe, I don’t know, but it perplexes me all the same…. ? ‘Why are we so gullible is what I”d like to know?
And if you please ….. …. and as you like REM ….
Excerpt from journal …. there’s nothing like a picture lying on it’s side ….
And then the snow and ice vanished overnight and into rain’s morning, something a Canadian man does not understand, so quickly and so sure.
Time for some old sound for I don’t really recall what I recorded or added to the site, though now I am just listening, and I hear something, and thought I should add ……
The thing is eh, there’s so much around that we even forget …
Which one says which one what? Well,, which one is which ….. ?
which (hwic̸h, wic̸h)
pronoun
- what one (or ones) of the number of persons, things, or events mentioned or implied?: which of the men answered? which do you want?
- the one (or ones) that: he knows which he wants
- that: used as a relative referring to the thing, group, or event specified in the antecedent word, phrase, or clause: which can be used in a restrictive clause [the war which had just ended, the class to which he spoke], in a restrictive clause preceded by the pronoun that[he sacrificed that which he valued most], in a nonrestrictive clause [my car, which is not running; my family, in which she found a warm welcome], or, archaically, of a person [Our Father, which art in heaven]
- either, or any, of the persons, things, or events previously mentioned or implied; whichever: take which you prefer
- a thing or fact that: you are late—which reminds me, where were you yesterday?
Origin: ME whiche < OE hwylc, hwelc, for *hwa-lic, lit., who like (akin to Goth hwileiks, OHG hwelīh, Ger welch): see who & -ly
adjective
- what one or ones (of the number mentioned or implied): which man (or men) answered? which books did he choose?
- whatever; no matter what: try which method he pleased, he could not succeed
- being the one just mentioned: he is very old, which fact is important
Webster’s New World College Dictionary Copyright © 2010 by Wiley Publishing, Inc., Cleveland, Ohio.
Used by arrangement with John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
which (hwĭch, wĭch)
pron.
- What particular one or ones: Which of these is yours?
- The one or ones previously mentioned or implied, specifically:
a. Used as a relative pronoun in a clause that provides additional information about the antecedent: my house, which is small and old.b. Used as a relative pronoun preceded by that or a preposition in a clause that defines or restricts the antecedent: that which he needed; the subject on which she spoke.c. Used instead of that as a relative pronoun in a clause that defines or restricts the antecedent: The movie which was shown later was better.
- Any of the things, events, or people designated or implied; whichever: Choose which you like best.
- A thing or circumstance that: He left early, which was wise.
adjective
- What particular one or ones of a number of things or people: Which part of town do you mean?
- Any one or any number of; whichever: Use which door you please.
- Being the one or ones previously mentioned or implied: It started to rain, at which point we ran.
Origin: Middle English, from Old English hwilc; see kwo- in Indo-European roots.
