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Month: November 2015

The Red Notebook 9

The Red Notebook 9

Really glad to have discovered this. I don’t write things this surreal anymore.

It’s too early, too too early. I have just finished a late shift, I ache, I’m so tired, so so tired. And yet here I am on Monday morning waiting in queue at Building’s Edge. I feel my bed calling to me ‘Clarence, come and rest, Clarence Clarence’

I curl my toes inside my boots and bite my tongue to try to remain awake. I have a bag of teeth in one hand and a bag of coins in the other. The queue at Building’s Edge is packed with worried and weary people. I glance from face to face and they all have the same tired expression I do. then I see her. She is old and wild eyed, chuckling to herself, she looks like giant frosted cream cake with blue icing on top.  A walking bake. I blink and rub my eyes just to make sure I’m not seeing things. to make sure I haven’t fallen asleep.

The old lady grins at me. ‘It can’t be’ I mutter to myself. The old lady seems magnificently drunk, swaying side to side, smiling as she giggles, belching and scratching as she makes her way.

I look around. Has no one else noticed? The Iron Lady has returned from the dead, our former Prime Minister is here. She has been reincarnated as a giant cake.

From behind me I hear a roar. A middle-aged man is charging towards Thatcher. He knocks her to the ground. Maggie lays ruined on the floor. She starts crying. The man stands over her and screams “You fucking bitch over, you fucking bitch you ruined this country” over and over again.

The Iron Lady is weeps, mascara running down her face, deep into her wrinkles. “I didn’t ruin it! IT was already broken” she says sadly.

I’ve seen enough. “Leave her alone” I shout.

“No I won’t. She closed the pits! She freed the banks to fuck us all, my family has lost everything, she ruined my family” the man says still full of righteous indignation.

“Thats no reason to smash her. She is a cake now” I reply.  I had the man’s full attention. He looked like a miner. All dirty hands and hard muscles. If he hit me I’d go down.

Behind him the Thatcher Cake (Cake Thatcher?) was slowly reforming. I pointed at her. Thatcher had a steely look in her eye.

The man turned and started taking handfuls of Thatcher cake flesh and stuffing it into his mouth. I turned away. I was always squeamish when people were being devoured.

The Red Notebook 8

The Red Notebook 8

These two stories are quite similair but still very different. From an Utter! session in 2009. I really miss that group.

Smile. Look friendly and open. Be ready to engage the public. My leaflets laid out neatly trapped by paperweights to stop the wind from scattering them. Looking at all the people walking past, hopefully I will catch someone’s eye, the hours go by, I stand resolute.

This is important and can’t be ignored. Even so. Every averted gaze made by someone wanting to avoid eye contact with me or every time  someone walks past me deafly as I say hello is blow, a tiny blow, to my enthusiasm.

Climate change is what I want people to know about. I want them to know what they can do, what we can do, what we should force our leaders to do.

The police  are hovering like busybodies with nothing better to do than to make sure I’m not littering the streets with discarded leaflets.

Deep breath. I have made progress. Progress is slow. I look down at the list of emails I have collected and I feel that I have achieved something. If only one person from that list attends our meetings then that would be a victory.

It is Saturday morning. People are doing their shopping walking straight past me. THEY said I could set up my stall outside the library next to the streets preachers proclaiming the word of god and global damnation. Believing the the world is being damned is probably the only thing we have in common. There are pigeons loitering near a tree, pecking at crumbs, what a waste of food.

Different story.

There were far too few people, why did they not care? Can’t they see the suffering? Have they no empathy?

I don’t know what makes me more angry. The wholesale slaughter of those I seek to protect or the apathy this society has towards their plight.

There were only a few of us protesting. Holding our placards and chanting. Where were the journalists I wondered. I had made sure that the local newspaper was aware of our plans.

I looked at the pesticide factory. How could the people who worked there sleep at night? Finally the newspaper man arrives. He looks completely disinterested. I’ll soon change that.

I gather the few, the brave, the loving around me and begin my speech.

“Ladies and Gents, brothers and sisters, I’ve have convened us here today to so that we may say with one voice ‘No more’” I paused for applause. The gathered few cheered.
“No more slaughter, no more murder, no more killing, cockroaches have as much right to live as any other living creature”. Again I pause. The gathered few clap and hoot.

BJJ Flyers

BJJ Flyers

I designed two flyers for BJJ clubs I train at. I used GIMP. They are both basic but I like how they turned out. Let me know your thoughts.


SOAS weds flyer

bjj beginner1

#BJJ #Design #GIMP

The Red Notebook 7

The Red Notebook 7

Another Utter! work:

The harsh light of the early autumn sun illuminated the street, it reflected off the layers of hard glass and slick wet asphalt.

He stared and stared at me. His dark beady eyes expressing all the distaste he felt. Those beady eyes betrayed the truth his otherwise emotionless face his well.

So your dad and your uncle got jobs on the buses. Your dad was a driver. Look how smart in looked in his uniform, look at the bus he drove, elegant in its own way.

One more from the same session:

There were a lot of people around the train station. It was awful, it was busy. The noise from the excited chatter porters and the clatter of horses overfilled the air and my thoughts. I held father’s hand tight. We moved through the crowd. We were on our way to the fight. As we exited the station the street we joined a crowd of punters who were also on their way to the arena. Poorer folk like me and father had to walk from the station. I remember looking on in envy at the richer folk riding horse drawn carriages to the arena.

Jack Solomon was the promoter of the fight. The man was a legend. Jack always had the knack of obliging the best fighters to face off against each other. Jack Solomon fight cards always delivered on entertainment.

I was excited. It was my first time going to a bout. I didn’t know what to expect. It was cold even though  the autumn sun shone bright. The sky was clear of clouds, I looked up at father and smiled. He smiled back. Father had a thick bushy moustache and he looked like a grinning walrus. I felt warm again despite the chill

The Red Notebook 6

The Red Notebook 6

The room was bathed in sunlight. “Bloody mess” said Van looking at the corpse. The dead woman had been beaten. The cadaver lay face down in a pool of blood. What was exposed of her face was bruised and swollen.

Van shook her head. It perplexed her. The violence that is visited upon us everyday. It made no damn sense at all. Behind her she heard the unmistakable huffing and puffing of her partner Rizzo. Rizzo breathed like a fat man. You could tell he was fat even over the phone. He was licking an ice cream cone. “I tell you Van, this thing is heaven in vanilla” said Rizzo.
“What did the Chief say about you bringing food onto crime scenes?”
licking the ice cream that was dripping down his knuckles Rizzo replied “I dunno somethin’ about contaminatin’ da crime scene”

“It is dripping all over the floor!” Van said. She almost angrily added the words “You fat fuck” but managed to catch herself. Rizzo peered over Van’s shoulder and said “Oh bless my soul, what a bloody mess, a real nasty one” as he finished off the last of the ice cream. Van looked on disgusted as Rizzo licked his fingers.
“So” Rizzo said “What have we got here?”
“Some poor lady beaten to death”
“I don’t get it you know.”
Van nodded in agreement. “How could someone let carpet as nice as this get ruined by blood stains is a mighty mystery to me. Why couldn’t the perp have off’ed her in the garden?” Rizzo said as he picked his nose and then wiped his boogers on the wall. 

The Red Notebook 5

The Red Notebook 5

I think this was from Utter! Lots of stuff in the Red Notebook seems to be from Utter!

I think this was from Utter! Lots of stuff in the Red Notebook seems to be from Utter!

The mine was cold and dark. She hated it, she hated being alone down here. The air was dank and salty, she had not expected that, but then she had not expected to be thrown into the deep tunnels of the mines either. She waved her one good hand in front of her face just to see if she could see it. Nothing. It was solid darkness.

This was Mara’s test, even though she felt she had been proving herself all her life, this was her test. “Find your way out” her uncle had said when they had left her there. Mara had planned on tracking her uncle and his goons out but they had gassed.

“I’m going to die here” she thought. She used her good right hand to examine her bad left hand. It had already began to corrode in the sodium filled air. Mara’s skin felt dry and course. She didn’t know long she been down in the dark.

She began to walk. She remembered the moment her uncle left her here. “Where am I” she  asked. “The Salt mine, mind your steel claw Mara, it’ll rot down here. Can’t taste the salt in the air?”. Though she could not see him she could tell uncle Murray was grinning nastily as he said this. “Time to prove yourself you little bitch”. Then there was the gas and he was gone.

Using her good hand to feel her way against the mine wall. Mara slowly made her way through the tunnels.  Every so often she would use the metal claw at the end of her left arm to mark the wall in case she had to trek back and keep track of how far she had gone.

It was silent in the darkness, the air was still, it was as if the darkness was so complete it would not even permit the air to move. Mara began to cry and unthinkingly wiped the tears with her hand forgetting it was covered in salt from the wall. Her eyes burned ands gasped in pain. She shook and panted, the pain was intense. Pain would pass. She managed a few deep breaths.

As Mara shuddered she did not hear the silence of the mine being broken by the quite movements of Kor-Sa-Unataq, the eight limbed giant, Kor-Sa-Unataq the Traitor. The giant was furious. The male that had brought this child here had torn down his web and blocked the entrance to the mine. Kor-Sa-Unataq creeped quickly across the the ceiling of the mine. He craved vengeance.

Mara chided herself. Stupid girl. Her face and eyes were red and sore. The giant creature above  dropped down and knocked Mara off her feet. Kor-Sa-Unataq was twice Mara’s size.

This seems like a good story. Should try to finish it at some point.