The Act of the Eight Plays

In all Holy books and some other unconnected tomes (Dandelion wine being one)set deep inside,between the lines is a detailed description of a number of acts one should perform to seek knowledge.

I have noticed over the past few months my sense perception has shifted slightly, test it yourselves. Look into the corner of the ceiling and you see the point where two walls and the ceiling meet, there may be a cobweb there. I look and i see the corner of a cube and the top of the cube (the ceiling) is endless. I look at trees in our park and i see engines sucking nutrients out of the earth. Everyday is a miracle lately. The trouble is i get caught up in the brilliance of it all so that life practically stops. I think its feedback from stepping back from the enlightenment episode detailed further back in the blog. Everything is stripped bare in the half light of muddied knowledge. Of course the journey is beset with Vitriol see post below. Dr Mensohn Jaeger calls it "The Post light effect" when inner contemplation trips over on itself and deems it "sociopathic behaviour". A neat side effect of the effect is that Hollywood films are laid bare to a semi enlightened eye, the message inherent in each and every bloated work of film that came out of that Satans arsehole we call The Hollywood Film Industry. I watched "The Brothers Grimm" a lacklustre film loosely based on several fairy tales. What locks the film together is its hidden messages layered upon each other so thick as to be cloying and sickly manifestations of what Hollywood wants us to know.The Act of Eight plays reversed.

I had a long conversation with a woman called Hannah who studies Art at University and slickly pieced together all her questions about existence each finding positioned perfectly that i destroyed her world view and led her to the chasm of enlightenment before grabbing her back. (The process i called the Act of the Eight Plays) I had to quickly rebuild her world sense and she thanked me profusely (later) through email, to quote;

"i never thought it was like that just like i had blinkers on all through my life. boyfriends and career parents and etc were all brushed away so was all my wants and needs. i was stripped by it all i had no idea"

I was mortified by this and vowed never to do it again or experiment with the process. I have no right at all to fuck around with your heads, i havent the energy to save you from it, i mean i had barely the energy to save myself from it. You hold all the secrets ever told in your hands and the act of opening your fingers and letting those secrets out was one of the hardest things i have ever done.I mean what do you do when you ask God a question and he answers you?

Vitriolicoutburst

You should really talk to somebody who gives a shit.

Vitriolic outbursts by Nationalists piss me off. Nationalism in the guise of self determination is mong-like in its wholesome self hugging flag waving bollocks and ive seen enough thanks very much. I'd like to give a full point by point expose to every issue raised by the Scottish/Cornish/Yorkshire/English/Welsh/Palestinian/Chechen policy of Nationalistic self masturbation. Trouble is i dont really care anymore, i havent the energy to do it. In the end Entropy destroys all and you end up with a totalitarian government system a result shown endlessly through history.

Entropy...the gift given by God. I like to shout out in the middle of a scrap "hey we're all wankers here lets not fight amongst ourselves but lets have a big circle jerk and shoot pearly jam at reach other instead of bullets and fists"

I have discovered that my life isnt my own but instead is directed and organised by work/those i love/those i hate/those i dont know. Every second is alloted a task one must perform be it driving somewhere or doing something i dont really wish to do. I am starting to hate humankind with a passion and the start of it is TV. The great glass tit everybody loves to suck on a few hours a day. Uninteresting fucking drivel the masses love to suck chew and masticulate. BIG BROTHER FANTASY! I enter the house with a blunt instrument.....

Is it unstable behaviour? I think its a normal response to evil sensory input. People ask "Why Skateboard" and i had great responses planned such as "gravity yawn" and "xtreme" and "Blah" honestly. I'll tell you why i skate its because its the only thing that makes me feel human, because the only people i can talk to as fellow human beings is the people who i skate with. They are the only people i feel comfortable with and as i face the final skate due to increasing bone trouble i am starting to feel a very clear fear.

You see i can start to see the cracks in my own persona due to not skating as often as i should, my veneer of latent "respectability" is loosening. The cease and desist order i recieved from Walmart/Asda was thrown aside at the time but now whispers of revenge/smooth floors/shop and skate. Drag the deck out go to ASDA and rip the floors up throw the produce around and do the six months nick they promised if i ever skated there again..

People used to laugh when i told them of being abducted by aliens through my bedroom window but when i show them the scratches made by the finger nails of something with three fingers that clutched my windowsill one night they go silent and they lock their own windows.

and i suffered those i love to give me one hour on a board today and it fucking rained solid.

Weld

Went to weld a bracket on a case and trapped my arm behind the bracket. It was welded tight and no way could i shift it. I shouted for help and they ground the weld away and i was free!

A magazine wants me to write an article on why an Ecologist would work in Engineering, i havent a clue what to say in it. I have absolutely no answers at all. People ask what attracts me to skating i answer "blankness" it all melts away when you're on a good roll around. So the article is blank.

They shelled the pea factory!

Today i mostly sliced the end of my knuckle off it bled forever! The rest of the dudes at work made me a medal for being so brave and not crying (the piss taking bastards)i then ran over my foot with the electric crane/hoist. I thought i'd broken it being the big twat i am, cue more laughter from the factory. Blow off steam go for a skate after work foot on board roll six feet stop dead fall on face winded throw skate go home. Anger and resentment.

Watching 2003 slalom world cup, Iraq ambush video, Roy Harper.

Listening to Massive Attack and Bluegrass.

Apologies of the week

Work is there for no purpose other than to pay for skate gear and to act as a source of bolts,resin and hardware for skate purposes. I have been there three months and thats a record for me ie three months without threatening anybody with violence or pain. Today that record was broken as (Reg) was grabbed by the throat and got a good shout in the face from yours truly Mr G Bastard. I forgot that at work you can expect no thanks gfrom anybody for extra work done or hard work, this pissed me off as it seemed i was the only one doing any work last week inc senior management. I will serve a penance for this outburst and will listen to his endless chat bollocks about his allotment. Reg is a bloke in his mid sixties who prattles on about his pension (which the government nicked off him)his allotment and his job which he loves. As an old dude he moans non stop about fucking anything at all. You give a subject and he'll moan about it endlessly until you see a white light and dead relatives. This dude will moan you to death.

Reg you bastard i'm sorry for grabbing you by the throat, Ricky sorry for slagging off your girlfriend, Kez i know your pregnant but you still make me horny,sorry to the office girls who although i think im witty and charming i am a letch who dribbles and stares at your tits as you well know. Sorry to Gaz who showed me his new phone which i quickly set to go off at 4.00 am and the thick bastard never sussed me hahahahahahahaha. Gaz sorry man i cussed you out for being a dole scrounging bastard when the dole subsidised my skating for years. Sorry to Nic for saying his new Harley was shit(it is)and for saying the Bulldog Bash was for weirdos. Sorry Luke for building you a shit deck that didnt work. Apologies to Norwich Union who didnt quote me happy and didnt appreciate the fart i did down the phone when i got the quote, thanks to Line Manager Lisa Lysholme who saw the funny side and didnt phone the police. Sorry to Dan for asking his girlfriend Ames to show me her tits (she did) and then showing you the photo on me phone hahahahahahaha, thanks for seeing the funny side. Vic sorry for calling the Pope a twat i know you are a devout Catholic who loves the Holy Father etc but you must agree the Dalai Lama is not a Chink.

Un Domax Irakus Iranus

Iran's progressive trio Kahtmayan, whose violent marriage of krautrock, the French Zeuhl music of Magma, and early Metallica contains samples of US pilots' radio communiqués as they prepared to attack northern Iraq. Recent pictures of these guys show them making signs of the horned god, and images of Tehran's business centres sprayed with Kahtmayan's own heavy metal graffiti - which all inclines me to believe the rumour that one member was recently murdered by Iran's secret police.

Proper tea Gaffer!

I drink 8-9 cups of proper British tea ie very strong with two spoons of sugar good splosh of milk so the tea goes the same colour as Dave Dickinsons perma tan and there you go. None of this gay capuchinno bollocks nor that straight tea with no milk or sugar crap thats how the ragheads and slinks drink it, its disgusting, uncivilised and very very wrong. British industry was made strong from proper tea.

(Conversation @ work today)

Cutting Lawns and Throats

I idly mowed the lawn watching the detritus of my area indulge in their hobbys of kicking the bus shelter windows and honking around on scooters with holes poked in the exhaust with screwdrivers. This makes them very loud and very annoying. I dont concentrate for a minute and mow next doors Daffodils by mistake.

Bono is locked with me in a padded cell and he is shitting himself with fear as i punch him in the face again and again. I swing him around by his ponytail kicking him in the face while i laugh.

There are many weeds in the lawn and a big muddy tyre mark where i parked the car one day by mistake. Jack Johnson was playing on the radio at the time. The cell door opens as i wipe Bonos blood off my face with a wet wipe, They throw Jack Johnson in. He's a mean fucker built strong with an undercurrent of nasty violence which belies his shitty songs. He punches me in the ear and it hurts bad but he goes too quickly for the knock out (did he used to box? he's quite good). He doesnt see Bono on the floor and trips over his inert form, i grab Johnson by his throat and hold on tight punching him in the back of his neck until he goes gaga. I think of his song "Good people" and kick him in the balls a few times while singing it as i laugh. I walk over and kick Bono in the balls as well, he moans.

My ear hurts and i think Johnson has busted my nose, it feels "detached". I count the daisies in the lawn, not so many this year, it was a wet winter. I hear shouting from corridor outside the cell door, the door opens and they throw in Chris Martin from Coldplay already suffering the beating he has recieved from "Them". This is not fair and i protest at the door grill, they blow pepper spray at me and laugh. I look at Chris Martin sobbing on the floor of the cell, they beat him good. I get a pen and write a big dollar sign on his palm and spit in his eye. I throw him on top of Bono and walk to the door, i look back and cant tell them apart. I look through the door grill to see who's next and my head explodes in a flash of pain as my forehead bounces off it. Fucking Jack Johnson is awake again and sneaked up on me, he has me in an arm lock around my throat. He is one strong bastard, stronger than me perhaps but not as clever as i grab his head and flip him over my shoulder ala Gracie brothers. He is shocked and dazed as i cuff his legs and wrists, he has hurt my shoulder, i think he's busted my collarbone.

The Kosovan from down the road walks past as i cut the lawn and grins at me, i ask him what he's fucking looking at and he crosses the road walking fast.

The door opens and "They" throw in James Blunt. Blunt thinks he knows unarmed combat and bounces around on the balls of his feet flicking out jabs that make my nose hurt as i follow him. He kicks me hard in the knee and i go down. James Blunt is kicking my ass. I am embarassed but have a secret weapon. Chris Martin attacks Blunt from behind and i headbutt Blunt in the balls. Blunt is down and i laugh as Martin gets a little violent on him.

Im tired and sit down next to Johnson, cuffed, laughs at Martin punching Blunt. I laugh too and think Johnson is an ok guy so i uncuff him and roll him a cigarette. We smoke and watch Martins really ineffectual blows on Blunts head. Bono moans, i think ive really hurt him but dont give a shit. The door opens and in comes Henry Rollins, i dont understand this as i like Rollins. He runs over to Bono and cuts his throat, he apologises to me for breaking into my fantasy, but he had to do it. He is dressed as a prison warder and busts Martin over the head with his nightstick as he walks out the door singing "Damaged part 2". Three prison guards walk in and they are a bandy legged Keith Morris of the Circle Jerks, and two members of Slipknot. They take out Bonos lifeless useless carcass and then pull me to my feet. I say goodbye to Jack Johnson (i like him and may download his album) i kick Blunt in the face as i am dragged past him by the guards. The corridor smells of piss and boiled cabbage and i see Lemmy from Motorhead shoving Bonos body down a laundry chute. Keith Morris kicks me into another cell and slams the door,this cell is clean, they must have hosed it down. My shoulder hurts.

I sit and roll another cigarette even though my throat is dry and itchy, it makes me cough and as i hack. I see the door open and in walks Britney Spears dressed in tight latex and big spike heeled boots.

To fuck Britney go to page 189
To set fire to Britneys hair go to page 48
To plot escape with Britney go to page 129

You choose!

An ice cream van playing Danny Boy jingles pulls up at the end of my drive and i drop the mower and look forward to a cone........

Bastard rides!

A Bastard rides at Dalby UK. Last corner shitting it.

Needs and Nosebleeds

The need to spread ones thoughts online is a Nihilistic one akin to masturbation or nose picking. For Blog read bogey or nasal exploration.

Gravity Bastard is the new incarnation of the Longboardbuddha that pastoral easy going longboarder happy to roll around espousing his zen and his "wisdom". Many people now know who Longboardbuddha was. He was unreliable at best unable to attach his concentration to anything for long periods due to a number of issues. His love for something one day would turn to hate the next and his favourite deck would end up being given away to some (un)lucky grommet. Skateboarding for Longboardbuddha was watching an old man rub his own shit in his hair in a fracture ward and being threatened with anal rape by East European orderlies in pre-op. Skateboarding was also a solo activity if you please, a battle with the self uncluttered by people around him.

Longboardbuddha was never a friend to many as they couldn't travel the same roads he did. He was late for meets if he ever turned up at all, he talked nonsense most of the time and made promises he couldnt keep (and knew deep down he wouldn't). He would travel miles to sessions and not skate happy to watch other people enjoy the groove he kept for private sessions. He was happy to buy trucks and saw the axles off hiding them away in the workshop, build gorgeous hardwood decks and throw them away. He always looked like he listened but never did he was always thinking about his battle with skateboarding. Longboardbuddha always disappointed people from all walks of life.

In life one always grows and expands/evolves/mutate and gradually dislikes become likes friends become enemies.

Eight straight hours a day meditation lead to limb paralysis and severe back pain. It also lead to the precipice of enlightenment. I actually stood on the edge of the path trod by the Buddha and the wise but this time sheltering from the rain sleeping rough in a bus shelter in South Wales. I held the diamond/lotus in my hand and threw it away scared and unsure. It was there for me and i turned my back on it. The smile on Buddhas face is the realisation that what he sought he already possessed, the anger on mine is that the gift offered was flung back into the void and im not sure if i can get it back.

On that day Longboardbuddha died a death and i picked a new mask of Gravity Bastard. He rides streetluge as he is too scared to ride stand up anymore. For power he took the head of his ulna which he used to insert in decks and powdered it into a glass of strawberry Nesquick thus ingesting his former incarnation. He cares for a memorial tree of the father of a person he never met and the small sapling now growing into a strong young tree listens to his laments and complaints.

Instead of carving beautiful decks i weld luges, gloveless to suffer the pangs of pain as the craft is birthed and welcome the burn and the ache as it is payment on a debt.

Gravity is the power that flings stars into each other and holds planetary masses in orbit, it birthed a universe and destroys as well as creates. I use Gravity as a fuel. When i go fast i forget and that few precious seconds of blankness are worth the world to me.

Excuse me if i talk to or email you and i sound obtuse and insane its simply because i am but instead of fighting it i am slowly learning to live with it and i am trying very very hard.

This medium will be an outlet for the babbling and the theories, a catharsis and an excuse.