A little jiggle

Vertebrae sway and back the other way,
Head fixed, eyes paralysed into one happy glare,
Congestion is gone and the noise keeps standing around at bay,
You dance alone, thought start to pull more limbs into your lair.

O to a soul

O to a soul
Where have you gone?
You started to become flaky somewhere between extremism and dissipating hope.
Don’t be silly, let’s take this seriously, I know you’re hiding somewhere.
Or should I not continue to believe in faith?
Hmmm, I shall continue to consume and consume, that will revive your lingering self.

Though after days, you seem to become more vacant.
Is this a melancholy feeling, because I enjoy this feeling, knowing that you’re sure to return?
No.
Hitting me like a mediocre candle on a mass production line, the candle will only light for someone for so long, till more money must be spent on another. I simply have no more money then, to bring you back. I have no worth to have you back.

You really do need money don’t you. Ok, I’ll buy you back, with what, on a temporary basis of course. Maybe the obvious – a journey to a beautiful location, a kiss with another, an hour of yoga! O what will it take soul?
No little tipples, no more sniffs, no more silly curious acts.
Ok. Well, please let me know when you’re coming back. It’s lonely without you. To be honest, I shall be locked in a cage in the desert.

Scribblings Bimble Inn Sunrise - inspired by dancing of mug and spoon by myself and a fellow chap

After meeting an interesting chap in the canteen at Green Stewards we preceeded to the Bimble Inn to watch some folk music and enjoyed observing dancers, and dancing with a mug he won which said 'world's best nan' and a spoon which my friend had acquired form some location. The time seemed suffice to do some stream of conciousness drawing, seeing as we both said we couldn't draw. His was the first drawing and mine the second above. I don't think we both quite understood what they meant but it seemed right at the time.

O Bimble Inn,
Wear yourself fat or thin,
With your limited space but unlimited drink,
Ridding boundaries to let people think,
We dance with spoon and mug,
To your folk tunes beyond the rug,
Not a toe unmoving or a beat unmissed,
To you our bodys moving and our souls kissed.

How much can we really relax at home...

I sit at home after a lovely time at Sunrise festival and am reading, watching and writing and eating away. What a relief after a saw ass in a tent for 5 days to be lying on my comfortable bed and not worrying about waking up at any time to get up for uni or whatever. I can just remember good times in a field or lose myself with entertainment. Although there is a distinct lack of friends to converse with, a hell of a lot of miles between me and them and no cultural landmark, shop, tower to walk to for miles. With a mother who’s very unappreciative of others coming to stay and living in the middle of nowhere with plenty to walk, but a large walk to get to anywhere – I have really started to ponder what exactly constitutes relaxation at home. Aside from the obvious stated before, there really isn’t much else to do at home so what constitutes a more defined relaxation? I love to spend time alone, but for how long till you mind starts to distort reality slightly. Straight after the festival I stayed in a random Somerset location with a lovely friend and her more than accommodating parents. Upon arrival I was urged to help myself to use anything in their fridge and their intensive conditioner on my dreaded festival hair. I could have stayed there for days on end, with delightful and intelligent conversation, a very large collection of decent movies and a nice rounded collection of literature with a light atmosphere. Though to how much was I worthy of this relaxation? I needed to get home. I certainly don’t expect it at my home with friends, I am use to it with others for sure rounds theirs, though I never like to outstay my welcome. Throwing uni into the equation, I pondered how much your university home constitutes relaxation too depending on the housemate, location and stress levels at the time, so with these different dimensions of home life, friends houses and university accommodation – how does relaxation in the home really define itself or does it even exist at all. Well certainly not for everyone anyway. 
Hmm, I don't really know what to do now..... Country walk?

This is the excretion of my feelings and the recycling of my waste (an insight into Sunrise festival)

Having been inspired during Sunrise festival after a very large conversation with a lovely man who worked cleaning poo and such, we both concluded that this topic of the excretion of feelings and recycling of waste should definitely be touched upon. The man himself was Raj, an interesting chap to say the least who spoke about laminating poo, karma free meat and bird documents dating back to the 16^th century.  And much more than just that. Though what would inspire an excretion of feelings? Holding this chaps hand for an hour without much recognition of time during a rainy shift and little food brought us about to conversing about feelings and the planet in general. That old chinwag – seemed to fit well with the excretion of feelings as a theme – the underlying conversation of laminating poo seemed to pop up every now and then as a subgenre. Speculating the free love vibe, I guess it does make a lot of sense. The excretion of feelings was purely natural and the recycling of waste was pondered on to channel into the use of words. The festival itself was great; lots of chai tea, a variety of beats, interesting characters and a hell of a lot of veganism. How can you go so far as to not eat honey because a bee’s wings were clipped during the process of the honey collection? Well a great debate to have I am sure, I did find myself pondering it for quite a while and have even considered becoming a vegan with my friend after such a heartfelt encounter with a chap on the gate we worked at. Though, I do not eat meat too often now, I find eating steak to be imperative every now and then and also salami completes a sad Thursday – with a little homous in a rye bread sandwhich.

I recycled waste over a period of five days, so I thought I’d recycle my words here replacing waste with words of course – pork pie, twirly around thing, gypsy woman, decent smelling hand wash, yup, chai tea, oi, indifier, jemma and the jemmas, flask, pirate, mutiny, sunflowers, too nice to talk to, healing, strange –

Twirly round pork pie thing

Strange healing mutiny

Gypsy woman oi

Decent smelling Hand wash yup

Sunflowers pirate indifier

Chai tea flask

Jemma and the Jemmas too nice to talk to

O well, makes sense to me.