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What does make the difference is the fact i am not envious of his youth,the mere thought that the genius's in charge of us want to make this youth work until perhaps turning 80 before he retires..i wonder what an 80 year old man would look like on a can of seven-up and would the great unwashed swarm to pull the ring pull.
Despite the advancement in techno-playing machines, hand held tiny mobile phones,and all the rest of the up and coming gizmo's youth can now lay hands on,i do not envy,or wish i was born now, today, if ever in the future.When i see a new born baby in a pram i cringe in sadness..poor sod.The price they are going to pay for playing such machines are going to be dreadful....the culture of working for nothing..the culture for working longer hours for nothing is growing...slavery is alive and well being promoted by genius's who throw down such titillation's as x-factor let the great unwashed simper in such cloth and all the rest is blind.I would have thought after two hundred years of industrial revolution the three day weekend is richly deserved.Am i melancholy to sit in such a mood tonight,or simply reflecting on the fact that today i spent time sitting at a swimming gala watching rich young flesh scantily clad racing in frothing water.I could not help but try and picture these young things sat where i sat at the age of 54 reading a sunday newspaper scripted in blackened words deep in print on how to buy and sell lives, as if it was all a board game of who's name i am failed to spell...would they indeed be able to change anything, as i looked down on such able bodies,fresh youth,fresh brawn deserve better than the imagination in those genius's with sagging chins, flaccid cocks in zipped pin stripe suits,have in mind for those who swam in torrents today.
Funny how child hood is never far away when i try such delights from way back..i will probably buy some more tizer in the distant months ahead..i would hate to think that such a drink will vanish, so no future sticky pocketed lad cannot possibly wonder what lies within,when playing with his pocket money would he buy tizer or reach for the top shelf and buy some soft porn magazine....instead to feed his mind ribald dreams...i can recall the first time i reached for such, the magazine was called MAYFAIR.....thick glossy the pictures of nude ladies widened my mouth larger than gobstoppers,i recall also being shocked that ladies had pubic hair i found it astounding which just shows how indeed some of us coming through the 60/70's were still sitting under the mulberry bush plucking at fruit...the first time i saw my sperm shoot out was also a shock i can remember whose house i was in and where...all this in my 13th year....i thought about that, the other night as i was stood waiting at some function bar to gain another pint of foaming mirth..as i stood there the in rush of a group of young lads scrambled up to the bar top their tiny heads not even level to the split beer ouzing across the shinny glaze, swimming under heated light reflecting in barman's arms...money thrust up wards garbled requests shouted in this ruck one boy pushed too hard to the front pushing forward against the front boy whom turned around.."are you touching my pants,are you gay " i looked into my pint pot sighing, is this the bright future ahead you touch someones pants and your gay no wonder men can only hug in drunkenness and true grit sporting events...The world is written on the side of a can of Tizer..which reminds me to bump into someone and wait for the retort i do hope they have a big cock..HA...
They are already shouting the odds on the same old topics..Social Security..we will get the scroungers back to work,we will cut their benefits, please ring this number, if you suspect your neighbor of social security fraud,do they walk to the garden gate,have you seen them running for a bus or perhaps they dance naked in the garden, quaffing endless cans of beer..perhaps they hump amongst the cabbage patch, thrash and mash with their benefit cheque between their buttock cheeks.
At this weeks show,the political circus of future promises will they display just how much the Palace of Westminster costs to run each year,and perhaps wonder who indeed pays for this surely it is me,i,amongst the army of great unwashed.
What of he himself MR Murdoch preaching to his newspaper readers to vote Tory at next years election..how much tax does he pay here at home in this green land..i would have said pleasant..but a strange taste is beginning to form as the dark clouds of Tories float towards London.But there again how much of the great unwashed are left to put their mark on the ballot,or worse still be bothered to shuffle to the polling station perhaps it is simply better to fuck in the cabbage patch.For the politicians will surely fuck us in the belief we should work until 70..before picking up a pension..you never know they might raise it to 73 for those who dared to march 73 years ago in protest cannot have the great unwashed winning, now gosh cannot indeed have that.
He, short blond hair smoking a spliff perhaps, the heavy aroma mixed jellied with aftershave the ear-phones gave off tin tinted music,curling up into the night sky,the cloud layer broke the moon visible,i glanced,i glanced at blonde's trouser prod, nothing but youthful ruffles....we passed, not a murmur,not even from the crunched beech nuts dropped in autumns wain not a murmur from the crisp moon, i crossed the bridge and home.
The day is done the pillow calls so to the demons whom i know will come laugh taunt skip the light fantastic,why worry i know them well now,enough not to be bewitched....my day has slipped through my fingers some in petroleum jelly masturbation....some in watching the last butterfly flit,some in the drone of piston driven aircraft long high above stratocumulus the pale blue the warm sun as if a summer day out of context a Harry Potter day riding in ancient carriages, steam engines pulling long haul a boyhood dream once in the valley below..now is just now a sight no school boy will scrape shoes over for such a glimpse.Those days now live in tired wrinkled skin in me the last generation to scuff such shoes.
Autumn is sinking into my pores,the gathering speed gatheres no moss,tired words once scrapped in chalk on blackboards black..i met today a painter not of art..but a tradesman in brush and wall paper i did not admire or seek the taut in the pants and yet the youth at night i did....his few words did not as usual surround the weather..but the fact he wished he had paid more attention at school.
Perhaps had the saccharine turtles known they might have helped his dream.
The wireless spat this morning as i gathered my thoughts at work, in amongst the dreary road works, traffic jams, jingle toothpaste adverts and the antic's who can afford to play games of which the media think we need to know every waking second, force fed, bottle fed, even fish and chips wrapped up in such tittle tattle.The scale the backs of hairy caterpillars, gossip disappearing on laytex wings to oblivion unreached by witches breasts the saggy sour milk seeps.The captain of the ship shouts abandon. As some antic's captured on film, paper voices from the wireless are bellowed ever louder ever more glossy pictured with morning coffeeeeeee cups with such news we are deemed to want...Yet another chase,capture of drugs deemed illegal by those men dressed in blue, laws passed down by those whom sit on green seats sing bla bla across the houses of parliament...yet old ladies on walking sticks hide behind curtains whom twitch in day light hours to frightened to walk in air no longer fresh, their blue rinse hair, their dreams of once humping in perfect days, perhaps in youth full garters suspenders in moon light to such tunes no longer written...now today not whispered in the light, such a waste such a tapestry unfinished..instead the mountain of money spent on this egg chase, which must be by now all of forty years old has left these old ladies behind in wheel barrows of fate.
If you stopped stared at this gutter voice from this mornings wireless bulletin added up over the years money spent..just how many hospitals could you have built how many new schools..better education better pensions so forth and so forth....instead they still hunt their idea of perfect day dream the utopia which they firmly believe we must have....as yet more money is chased down in catter-pelting defeating the drugs pipe to nil by mouth...the captain of the ship has lost his eyes...yet i cannot lend him mine as they begin to sink heavily after the day filters behind the faraway hill as sad faces march in the rain.
Today i saw my first Chainsaw drones of this autumn season cutting down a hundred year old tree in mere hours not a stick left to even play Poo..sticks on on some forgotten bridge... who's standing stones bake in the crossing, the forlorn hope dreams, i glimpse in every puddle pond i pass looking for the least expected tales under unknown stones,a treasure worth hunting for the wearing of such purple helmets can only beat the bishop to a standstill if caught with out the sunshine glasses i expect for this time of year...
One particular day journeying homeward from school i stuck my face up to a toy shop window plastic Beatle wigs drew my eyes next to them in glory Beatle stockings...arrhh perhaps the beginning of trannie-mania..for me myself...the seed sown planted harvested years later.
But then again,maybe not, just my simple mind playing games today....i read this in the early hours of this morning whilst trawling blogs,looking for old friends, old souls, distant quiet perhaps, defunct perhaps the drones have eaten them possibly...but HA.., at first i thought yes, however the more i read the more i think, play, dream, perhaps....it does not quite ring true or only if you let it prey a Mantis until you eat yourself inwards..
" Life is a repetitive process of suffering,a general by product of desire.Nothing is new,nor has anything become old.It all just keeps happening over and over. "
But i also smiled through this and read.." My heart pumps purple peanut butter for you "...is there such a colour..?? at first i thought the early morning stirrings in me played tricks, my imagination thought of peanut butter crowning some delightful cock and so i tittered or Gag, is perhaps more likely in deep throat richness...And then there was the scream in the half light written in a blog read in,the light before the swishing of rubber tyres bellows below in window....my shrine room is a mess, and so is my blog a mess perhaps i use such a word too much and indeed i need a bellow between my ears..rich is the day, rich, are the hours they simply drift, corn-cake sprung into my mind quite why this instant whom knows maybe i was trying to say....cake-weed..a plant in Australia which litters across certain landscapes..it was also my Uncles favourite saying.."I'm just going to water the cake-weed...."..as he went into the night air to empty his bladder,after we had been sitting there drinking beer,discussing WTF had made my aunt subside into the big C..perhaps pithecanthropus but more like a stray pith helmet...caught in distant time a warp to far..oh yes and then the scream..i digress...
" The closet thing we'll find to GOD on this sand blasted shit hole is a mothers forgiveness "
Perhaps i should scribble more feeding myself the name of the rose which thorns me in this angry quest for words,but then angry is too harsh..i shall think more as the Poo-sticks float by on this day.And perhaps linger this way again but more quickly vanity tells me so but life just keeps happening over and over.
However i am not down in the trough of forlorn hope..each ray of sunshine is celebrated each twittering butterfly fluttering past brightens up the day, a small pause in the crazy work world is more the richer by this fragile creature leaping in air currents just beyond my grasp...perhaps in Autumn i can pause longer and perhaps too find the off button.
They are not happy..no amount of promises..can simper down their voices to a whisper..even the promise of pulling on stockings is not enough..take me shopping the slutty bitch screams and this slutty bitch is she inside of me or am i simply the slutty bitch, promising myself that at the end of this period of crazy work i might just treat myself...enough to stop my femininity from whipping my bare Clitty to a frazzle..especially this passing weekend due to fatigue i sprawled into a crumpled heap,as i rested from the giant penny on my back..a glass of Chardonnay or two was the muster of it all.
I should have been in deepest darkest Manchester as the demons draw out in the night sky, to play with a Dark Master who has a lust for every hole available,in the most dankest of terms and conditions....and so i sigh,a sigh of not so much sadness for i can live on the memory of the last episode when things went squelch under his service...HA...then onward only twenty more days..!!and life returns to go BOO...perhaps i should burn the candle at both ends..i can hear them..yes yes...drat...
I am not well,a simple statement, saccharine turtles, give me no strength, beast triffids make me cough into the gulags of some great chasm,my naked buttocks are being thrashed by rhubarb..perhaps i have gone wrong on this return journey to home. I have heard some whispers,saying you can fuck-off,if you think you can go back to that diet on a hoof in between shifts,fuck yer cheese and biscuits,fuck yer sausage rolls..i am inclined to agree something has to be done.
The salacious elephants..are beginning to splutter...two of my favourite blogs have now ceased..the philosophy of one will be missed,people, change, grow, they hang rhythm on their nipples and need to catch the wind so although it makes me sad, i raised a glass of chardonnay and watched him take the other path in the hundred acre wood wishing him luck on his journey.
The other,someone blinkered must have strayed..to the TEMPLE OF COCK..and gone wow...fuck me..cannot have the bible filled full of creaming cocks...what would the world think..so some poor sod..is probably in some gulag repeating hail mary's...for taking the lords name in vain...or did he or was he simply putting his version of the world faith in another bracket full of purple dildo's and red hot pokers...where no one was forced to go,linger, feel hungry for such erectness or simply to piss your pants is a sin to keep away from those with open eyes on the stairway to heaven just in case they fall off.
What is playing on my mind is how regimented England has become...Whilst in Australia..i never came across one speed hump..hardly saw any speed camera's..not one traffic warden did i see in the suburbs waiting for the second hand to run out of time...no wall to wall..CCTV..camera's...no signs,with such crap as these camera's are for your health and safety and all the rest of the Bla..Bla...they think is good for us....
There was small blip...in the return journey..i packed on Thursday,just to see if i could squeeze in one or two more trinkets my eyes had feasted on during the orgiastic banquet i had delighted in during the thronged shopping malls in Orchard road...Singapore...i separated my passport from my airport duty free spending money thinking i would sort it all out just before check in...i had neatly packed my money just beneath my dirty washing think who should pass that way deserves the pennies within....this tired old mind simply forgot at check in..so into the hold went my spends..drat...as they say..but the biggest drat was this crazy transvestite mind not at all sure i had packed it at all..until i reclaimed my baggage,all my mind could do was churn the day i packed on repeat mode..was it, did i, empty all the draws in the tiny unswingable cat room,all those strange visions that the goblins, gargoyles,erupt in rainbow brightness inside my head,,their squeals of delight whilst i wandered through duty free in gloom...of no pennies..the trinkets bright in cloisters seemed that much brighter....
But i had my revenge...those tiny blighters who once danced in duty free were not so pleased when yesterday..i pulled on some tiny red thongs just big enough,oh their faces..ha...the screams grew louder when amongst my trinkets i unpacked a new baby doll nightie black with red lace..yes i know it will not fit and perhaps i am mature past such delights and should simply adopt the old panto dame look but again..ha....
My biggest problem is once more climbing into my work mind..i return this coming Saturday for a few hours then the big double whammy Monday..ouch...I really do not want to bother any more nearly 36 years is enough repayment time to society especially to a society that snigger's at transvestites over morning coffee and toast as if we are something from Mars...perhaps we are...
Weather...Hot..Hot..HOT...
Place...Internet Cafe...Minus the singing Filipino...
Location...North Bridge Road...Singapore...
I have now checked out from the small cozy...hotel...which among other things is a brothel which suddenly dawned on me this morning having certain company in the lift...and i have only played chess with myself, adding another interesting episode to my life in which to keep me warm during the bleak winters back home.One of the magic moments during this trip..was watching a small child play in a computer shopping mall,whether boy or girl,now escapes me...for it was the green T-shirt which held much of my attention....on which words were written.....
Worry..is the misuse of the imagination...
And on that note i shall close down here in Singapore and dance through the streets for one last time in bliss.
Luv and Peace...who pass this way...
Today i have retrenched some of my footsteps picking up the bits and pieces i have spotted as i trawled through the shopping malls these past days now i do not have to worry to much if the pennies last until i board my flight...this comfort shopping helps the shock of yesterday pale away in time..i know progress is a rich dog never looking back no matter if the shit it leaves behind does not smell of roses.But wowo..yesterday i took the bus to the Tiger Balm Gardens...for one of those ghost tours from my past,this leafy lane that was, has been rapped by the concrete Elephants..how the gardens have survived is quite amazing..but the saddest is off coarse how they have declined to such depths of mire...i am glad i went..i am glad i sat there after with a coke looked over the forlorn mess...the cracks...the peeling paint...some man made things have to die fade away in a mountain of dust fit for only ants and pickles.
How ever much i wrap thoughts deeds around me some i have to let drift in the wind or else this armour i put on each day would be far to heavy to race across the daily battlefield.
I want to leave this tiny island in good spirits..i have had a hair cut thankfully the mountainous young fellow knew the number three blade it does not take long usually, but he played about...maybe he was board, quiet, as i was the only one at that moment simply liked the mess a round that wonderful track of music in Planes Trains and Automobiles...what ever...it can take awhile for me to grow between the legs now this age..but if had not stopped at the time my shorts would have been quite a sight...so bless his cotton socks...oh of coarse i tipped him..lol...
As..i waited for this temple to open this morning...i climbed the steps in Raffles Hotel to sit with the ghosts of Coward, for perhaps the last time,those past empire days plush seats out side the Ballroom where i could sit, awhile in the growing end to the silence of the night, pondering on my nightly demons to see if i can recall at all,sometimes they dance off away whipping such dreams away in a confusion where i am not sure if perhaps did indeed happen.
Singapore wakes up like any other city to rubber tyre's..What makes it Singapore are drinks carried in plastic bags with a straw,those old gentlemen who stand and do slow motion movements found in Bruce Lee's.....Enter The Dragon...Far Eastern Ladies who wear high heels yet cannot walk in them,their gait is of a drunken chicken....school children who wear so white...who must have shares in DAZ....soap powder...However the soft chairs where such was possible have now been removed..perhaps dressing in blue shorts a green t-shirt with a simple faded red star on does make me a hotel guest....i sigh....
As i was early for this here temple..i bought a copy of the Straits Times...the world might be in a tail spin....but Singapore girls had a full page spread to enlarge their breasts..as a breast person i could only go urrmm...there is a possibility i, they, could win a $280 voucher..giving me two 45 minute sessions....GTC 6PLUS....uses medical principle,when healthy cells are stretched,they respond both by swelling temporarily and by replicating until,eventually the cells divide to accommodate stretch force therefore it gives bust a natural look...my first thoughts were cocks..perhaps i could have a session for each muscle...
The other interesting note...was how crap and expensive Australia's..broadband service is...so as this summer when Australia are batting the shit out off the England cricket team...i can only sigh..and at least think well at least we have a better broadband than down under.....
Today i am going to find once more some old ghosts..as a child i was taken to Tiger Balm Gardens...there are some still remaining pictures of me with hair, slim stomach, sat in some push chair amongst the creatures cast in stone....it has been on my mind for much of this trip...reports say it is falling to pieces..but sometimes you have to simply rake up some of these old ghosts if nothing more to give peace of mind...i cannot say compare state of mind as it was some fifty years ago..just scribbling the word fifty is mind blowing enough....it has not helped either on this trip by the book i am reading,a book for the first time in my life i have ripped out pages and stuck in my traveling journal i always carry..the book.. The Road to Lisbon... i pretend to myself it is because of the weight i can carry on the airplane..but i know deep down it is more serious on that...which now brings me to the noon day sun perhaps i might see Noel Coward....HA...and such intrepidations of the road to Lisbon will fade whilst the sun is high....
Now that i have had my little rant to myself...the staying in such places also had it's bucket full of humour,those caught in a Country regulated to fuck can, still, do laugh, and most of all still have there own thoughts,these are the things i shall miss when i go home,and no doubt when the Chardonnay bottle comes out,will dwell on such.
It has also been nice not to be verbally attacked for being English...or reading such in the local daily papers about how crap we are and no wonder cos we all stop for tea every five minutes..i passed through one year, sat on the back of a bus to a lecture from some student who did not know what graft felt like under the finger nails going on about how lazy Brits were in the work place in the days of old British Leyland...it would be interesting now to talk over a few tiger beers and see his world point of view...perhaps i could charge him $14,800 per minute,as wot Tony Blair now charges for after dinner speeches...i wonder if he pays tax on such or does it wallow in some off shore account....i ask myself why they fill morning papers with such maybe it is an invitation to wipe my arse with such scribble..the world cannot be going to rack and ruin if such is, nor the fact that two hundred mosques in Mecca are facing the wrong direction...arrhh i think built by some rampant Scotsman during national service no doubt in glee up yours i presumed he thought.... and gimmie another beer.
I have now treated myself to a small hotel room...for my last remaining days here in Singapore mainly so i can shop through the list i have to take home and can leave it as i please, and for the last time i suspect for a good few years i can drink Tiger beer draft fall through the room door, not worrying if i shall wake anybody up..or cringe if i have to get up and piss all over the night demons....but most of all i can masturbate...Ha..something i really missed in the mixed dorms i stayed in....
Despite all my Monday Bla's..i am well,in a good mood...!! and can smile to myself..thinking.. yer....whatever....
The gardens are expansive well maintained so many places to sit awhile with thoughts..there were some firsts for me first Mango tree,coffee tree with a few tea plants also...because Jesus was not there i fed the fish or was it he who fed us..sitting in a class room once for two years going over the ACTS...in the bible dulls the mind...the tiny balls of fish food did not look to me worth the hassle of push and shove within the shallow waters in amongst this were a few small turtles demented space ships in the foam no wonder the bigger ones continued to bake in the sunshine i bet they thought daft sods...there is also a orchid house which was fabulous,until i came across one named after Maggie Thatcher..why it was not black was beyond me....i stumbled out across into the cold house which is a climate controlled rain forest with mist and fly trappers,amongst other such plants it was so good i passed through twice for it is no longer than two cricket pitches....four hours around this garden...the old stomach cried out WTF..feed me making my way out i noticed there are plenty of night lights set up, the garden opens until midnight..i thought ooohhh i wonder if people cruise here at night...mature men in cocks...a possible put on my trinket shopping list...before i go home.....the trinket shops had by now opened, my favourite bar did not open until 6pm..what else could i do but touchy-feel through the bright lights after dinner...i did well bought nothing, i have grasped something in life never bulk buy then drink after..lol...i had noticed though some Japanese extra tight fit Condoms which i might just treat myself too...i have a fascination for condoms when used,all that semen hanging the textured condom all rubbery stretched spent in that gasping utterage.....
Here....there are no adverts for holidays in winter sunshine in fact no holidays have i seen with sunshine written anywhere.There are not rows of suntan cream on supermarket shelves..nor is there rows of sunbed dens where an all over tan can be had for five pound for three minutes.There are soaps here that make you white,Creams that make your bust grow,peanut butter with a strawberry mix...Bra-cups so thick...my thoughts on as each year passes that Singapore girls busts are increasing may have to be revised...lol...i did think it was all the crispy fat they consume..have seen everything deep fried bar the famous Scottish Mars bar.....i do not poo-poo any of this it is nice to get from under the straight jacket one tightens around oneself laugh giggle prance down the covered market with a bag of such strange fruit as.... Vietnam Dragon, Fruit..Jack fruit....i did manage to escape buying any DVD-CD's...i might just be a tickle over loaded...but picked up some shredded black fungus...dried ginseng and a couple of other interesting looking artifacts to throw in the cooking pot at home.
I intend to have a lazy evening..there is some Tiger beer in the fridge....bliss.
The area i stayed is known as Bugis....once a haven for Empire troops..to relieve seed in the dark passages or what ever small privacy one found in those distant days...old soldiers will laugh and tell you tales of the Lady Boys..whom looked so fabulous you had to run your hand beyond the thigh to know which gender was on offer....all this alas has gone and Bugis is wall to wall crazy shopping for trinkets and the smallest of female clothing...some shorts, mini, skirts so tiny not even a pimple would they cover,i found much delight touching and giggling to myself....now that my body size is way past the pimple it once was....the heat the bustle thronged human flesh eventually pushes you out one end carried on a tide of noise strange smells from exotic fruits in all shapes make you wonder if..???.
On my last morning as i drifted to the underground station i paused to meet old ghosts who once frequented, buggered, behind the shutters of Raffles..the famous Singapore hotel where tourists today flock to the long bar for a taste of a... Singapore Sling.... a pink looking cocktail, such is the demand there is no time to make from scratch in the moment....demanded.....i sat at this long bar hoping Somerset Maugham and the Razors Edge would whisper in my ear...i expected him to say..you crazy bitch you paid how much for a pint of foaming mirth...a whole ten English pounds...Ha....my only comments to myself are it is the longest timed pint i have ever drunk and the young lad who shook out via electronica Singapore slings was a dream to the eyes and mind....and probably the last time i will sit at the long bar as i am not getting any younger and sometimes you have to spoil your self by closing the eyes and going ho-hum..i will simply now leave it to the rich to flutter away..as they know best.
Raffles hotel is built in open side quads in three floors you can freely wander around the old non resident parts which house a whole room of history..photo's..letters...telegrames..ballrooms...outside the ballroom are a couple of four seat sets so lapsed by human traffic you could quite easily sit and spend the night,without any hindrance from staff....the rest rooms as this hotel likes to think..no bogs..shit houses for those who command us...are full of marble, gold taps and plenty of space to swing a cat the erotic things you could do in those perfumed walls brings on a fit of giggles..you could say you fucked amongst the old ghosts of Maugham.Coward,Conrad....would that be bliss or simply the heat frying away at the gray matter...
