I think maybe 5% of creativity is actually creative…pioneering….if you will. It starts when we are nippers. Monkey see, monkey do. Only in later life, It’s monkey see, monkey change a little bit, monkey take credit for and get sucked off. I’m basically going to get high marks in both English subjects because over the past ten years, I have spent a lot of time waffling on about shit. They should combine Lit’ and Lan’ and just make it a vocational certificate in talking shit. One moment that I keep revisiting is when I was in University: I was sat there in a pub; that on face value, you’d think was a working class, masculine melting pot. From the outside, it was a typical pub, on the inside, everything about it was the epitome of pubness. It was however, populated with all sorts of ‘hippy/pseudo intellectual/work a day for world peace/ smoke weed and do it tomorrow/analytical boffin’ types. It’s the latter that are relevant here. Weeks prior to sitting there thinking “Oh fuck off you haven’t got a clue” - I was sat in the crane bar, in Galway. I was pissed, and I was playing guitar. I was welcome to join in on the songs and reels, and everyone there was having a riot; it was boss- flash forward to my flash back, in the pub again- these English “musicians” are sitting there with their legs crossed, and their sheet music in tow, and their expensive guitars, and bags of knowledge; telling me I can’t stamp my fucking feet to join in. These people get so caught up, their heads up their own arses, that they lose sight of what music, especially Irish Folk music is all about. These same people who read things or see things created by bohemian minds, and make their suggestions,…telling us the hidden messages. You know what? Things sometimes are what they are; and they don’t need to be picked from the field and taken to the lab, dissected, and explored for meanings and such.
I keep finishing college for the day, and walking down into Liverpool city centre. I noticed today, that I am caught up in a loop of repetitive thought. I leave the college, and the first thing I do it take of my badge, because I’m sort of self conscious that I’m 26, and I’m at college, and I worry a bit, what people will think. I turn the first corner, and I see an old boarding school on the left, brick, square, and depressing, with a sign saying “Pleasant Street School”- Not that pleasant. I then look over the road, and I see the modern day incarnation of pleasant street primary school; with it’s wacky architecture, making it look like a spaceship, in places, and it’s big security gates- it is a modern day monstrosity. I then start thinking about my time in primary school. I keep walking then I turn another corner, and there’s a multi story car park. I don’t really think much here, there isn’t anything visually stimulating to be honest. Then I turn onto the main road, which is a hill heading down towards Liverpool city centre. I can see the radio city tower; and I think about all those retards who listen to mainstream radio and live their lives in utter ignorance. Then I see my home in the hazy distance, across the Mersey, in the foreground; here, I start thinking about if I’m on the right path or not; will I see these GCSE’s through. Will I succeed? Do I really want to be a deck officer in Merchant navy? Then I think “what else am I going to do” - Then I reach the favourite part of my walk home; walking past “Smokey Mo’s” - outside, there’s an old school chalk board sign saying “You’ve heard about us, now you’re here, you can see for yourself” - I'm thinking, "No I haven't.... and no I can't" The beer garden is full of track suited street urchins from Liverpool shakily smoking their rolled tobacco and sipping on their pints of shit bitter. Bear in mind it’s 1pm. Then everything suddenly becomes lucid. I might not be on the quickest path to living a content existence, but at least I have got my shit together enough to not be standing on the steps of smokey mo’s, smoking and drinking myself into the abyss. The ends now justify the means.
I then work my way through the metropolis that Liverpool is. There is an abundance of Big Issue salesmen; they’re really saturating the market. In the first week, I just said no to them, and felt a little guilty. Then I devised a slightly longer route, to avoid them completely, then I started answering them saying “Sorry, I’m illiterate” - but now I just wear head phones, and glide effortlessly through the mess. When you’re not wearing headphones, people with headphones are little shits. Can’t beat them, join them.
Here’s me on Wednesday just gone, at the top of the horseshoe pass, in Llangollen. A very enjoyable 85 mile ride, which I am going to replicate on Sunday to watch my friend Sean compete in the wrexham hill climb time trial.
I keep finishing college for the day, and walking down into Liverpool city centre. I noticed today, that I am caught up in a loop of repetitive thought. I leave the college, and the first thing I do it take of my badge, because I’m sort of self conscious that I’m 26, and I’m at college, and I worry a bit, what people will think. I turn the first corner, and I see an old boarding school on the left, brick, square, and depressing, with a sign saying “Pleasant Street School”- Not that pleasant. I then look over the road, and I see the modern day incarnation of pleasant street primary school; with it’s wacky architecture, making it look like a spaceship, in places, and it’s big security gates- it is a modern day monstrosity. I then start thinking about my time in primary school. I keep walking then I turn another corner, and there’s a multi story car park. I don’t really think much here, there isn’t anything visually stimulating to be honest. Then I turn onto the main road, which is a hill heading down towards Liverpool city centre. I can see the radio city tower; and I think about all those retards who listen to mainstream radio and live their lives in utter ignorance. Then I see my home in the hazy distance, across the Mersey, in the foreground; here, I start thinking about if I’m on the right path or not; will I see these GCSE’s through. Will I succeed? Do I really want to be a deck officer in Merchant navy? Then I think “what else am I going to do” - Then I reach the favourite part of my walk home; walking past “Smokey Mo’s” - outside, there’s an old school chalk board sign saying “You’ve heard about us, now you’re here, you can see for yourself” - I'm thinking, "No I haven't.... and no I can't" The beer garden is full of track suited street urchins from Liverpool shakily smoking their rolled tobacco and sipping on their pints of shit bitter. Bear in mind it’s 1pm. Then everything suddenly becomes lucid. I might not be on the quickest path to living a content existence, but at least I have got my shit together enough to not be standing on the steps of smokey mo’s, smoking and drinking myself into the abyss. The ends now justify the means.
I then work my way through the metropolis that Liverpool is. There is an abundance of Big Issue salesmen; they’re really saturating the market. In the first week, I just said no to them, and felt a little guilty. Then I devised a slightly longer route, to avoid them completely, then I started answering them saying “Sorry, I’m illiterate” - but now I just wear head phones, and glide effortlessly through the mess. When you’re not wearing headphones, people with headphones are little shits. Can’t beat them, join them.
Here’s me on Wednesday just gone, at the top of the horseshoe pass, in Llangollen. A very enjoyable 85 mile ride, which I am going to replicate on Sunday to watch my friend Sean compete in the wrexham hill climb time trial.
A good read, watch the language it will come back to haunt you. Don't post when pissed, been there seen it done it. Or Tweet for that matter.
ReplyDeleteAs for the weightloss side of things it can be a bit of a deadend. Once you've lost the weight where do you go from there. The really hard part is keeping it off.
Good luck with your quest, age is on your side.
Regards,
Frank.