The bore of the drug world

Conversing about and taking drugs has been happening for many years. From the experimental and pretentious art student to the speed freak cultural studies student, from the local chippie server to the football hooligan, from the office workers in the pub toilets to the phone salesman on the dance floor – of all these categories, circulation of drug talk is inevitable. And for a tragic but also buzz fulfilling cause – that drugs are something that when taken can change the dynamics of character and henceforth initiate new experiences and provide a social platform for one to establish oneself. Talk of heightened emotions, euphoric physical feelings, even erotica, ‘holes’, coming up, hallucinations, tripping amongst others – I have found in recent months of individual growth and aspirations towards other things – to have become completely boring. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy conversing with others whilst taking drugs, which I don’t do too often, and the after effects I endure as well – engaging minds can be one of the most enjoyable parts of the experience. What I find to be repetitive, intentionally status enhancing and overly saturated in conversation is the constant reference to ‘md’ and its ‘sick’ highs or acid and its ‘trips’, amongst other endless references. I focus particularly on students and the youth of today. In too many social situations in recent months at university, I find myself amongst cliques who initiate conversation with drug taking. This is not to openly suggest I oppose those taking drugs, many of my friends do – but why did it have to become so fucking pretentious?

When all words fall into place

When poetry fills this space

When I smile at words on the fingertips

When I utter the feeling from my lips

When direction takes fold

When ideas ungrudgingly mould

When it all comes to be

It is when I am most free.

PROTEST LONDON

London has become the base location of England for marching activity, granted as the capital city, for the recent anti-capitalist protests to take full effect. From New York, Madrid, Los Angeles, Boston to Liverpool – the ‘occupy’ movement is spreading. From the anti-war protests in the established spot of Trafalgar Square to the blockade of Westminster Bridge protesting against the NHS cuts to the St. Pauls occupation – London has grown a new culture almost, comprised of its rise in groups of people who have simply had enough of the situation that has been foisted by the English government which is continually increasing a fear factor against our welfare. We’re all in this together at the end of the day, whether private sector or public, we all pay the taxes that are going into the tax pot for the chancellor of the exchequer to sort out, ‘the 99%’ or whatever it is deemed to be – there is a growing divide between the social elite and the general public. Where the fine essence of social welfare was once a proud manifestation of English politics, it is now rapidly decreasing into an ‘angry mob of protestors’ or simply individuals speaking out against the social injustice that governs our daily lives – our rights are being taken away, we are not being heard and we strive to get recognition for our voice.

 Today I went to the protest against pension cuts and noted how life just went on by while the protestors marched; the shoppers, theatre goers, even pedestrians walking past the demonstrations was a sight to see. Police officers stood non chalently and sat chilling in their huge police vans with large base systems pumped on by with uplifting tunes, the tube ran underneath the streets while the local street sweepers moved across picking up the debris of fag buts and tinnies from protesters, the MP’s sat in Westminster just up from the Embankment where the scene is occurring, with lecturers, teachers, road workers, train drivers etc. protesting against their own pensions being cut nearby. While students were swaggling limbs to heavy bass in one corner of the street, a city sweeper was picking up their litter – someone’s got to do it at the end of the day. While a triangle shape constructed banner made out of bamboo and fabric from the St. Paul’s movement was moving along, a group of photographers from the Daily Mail papped its tangling in the trees, children danced to music as city workers strode on past occupied in their daily city life. What a scene to witness where all walks of life played their part in the bigger society.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0SPio6RE-s&feature=player_embedded

Above a video worthwhile watching.

Absolute Hilarity.

I confess, I have not written in my blog for too long, of all things to inspire, this youtube link has done the trick, I want to share.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzDpMGGrHO0
Words cannot express the pure brilliance attached to this video. The ‘spice’ to a very amusing week indeed! Fire!

It is about the 'gap' in sexual curiosity between heterosexuals, when they are attracted to the same sex.

An odd dream

Was with my mother on a bench sitting near Goldsmiths somewhere and was very hung over. Out of the blue a man dressed in a long satin coat and a large satin joker like hat approached us. He appeared a very distinct character with prickly hair face and piercing but sharp blue eyes, he must have been from Eastern Europe. He was not unattractive, although slightly rusky and quite forward talking to be instantly attractive in my current hazy state. He seemed slightly gothic and almost like a thespian in the arts trade. After some conversation, it deliberated that I was going to go with him and see where he lived or hang out. This concept is very odd as we had only just met and my mother was with me. Despite this, I told her that I would return and it seemed fine. We got into a car, a silver one, it was Jono’s same car in fact. Whilst he was driving me to his home we drove through an actual house and I saw the outside of the car in some corridors just wide enough to fit the car. Then I was in the passenger seat and this whole ploy seemed more and more that he was of course very attracted to me. He seemed very hard to read and not easy to have a healthy conversation with, even at some points I did not seem to understand what he was even saying. Although, I was curious to continue with this escapade as it seemed intriguing. At one moment in the car he looked over at me with a certain smile and stare that Jono use to do when we were having a loving moment and I found it quite unnerving. His face at this point was so distinct and real that I will forever be curious as to how I invented him in my dreams. When we got into his house it was much bigger than I anticipated. He was obviously a man of taste and wealth, and then I started to notice that he was a little bit older too, maybe late 20’s. My hazy state had still not dissipated at this point and I was wondering around being nosy. He very casually gave me things as a grand gesture here and there up until this point too and I felt it was incredibly overly generous. Looking round his front room, his house was all open space and full of antiques and beautiful furniture, I noticed that he the rug, the sofas, the cabinets were all from my parents’ house when they lived together. I was shocked and it sunk in after a while that literally everything in this part of the living space had been what I had used as a child. I asked him about it and he seemed again very blaze and almost like he didn’t care, he must have had one particular interest in me besides my curious nature…. At only one point in the house did I find that he really spoke to me and we seemed to find a common ground. I mentioned that I was a little Surrey girl who had come to Goldsmiths some years previous and been in on the access. He returned with an ‘O, God’ and we both laughed together. He was an intelligent man, said he had completed two degrees, hence I found it slightly peculiar when he said he was doing A levels at Goldsmiths in order to do another degree. Plus you cannot even do Al Levels at this university. At one point I noticed he was from Hungary as I saw a Hungary badge hanging off his wall. He again, was very blaze and seemed uninterested to tell me about his heritage at all. Though all the time seemed interested in me, guess just for sex. Thus proved when I sat down on the floor and he sat down slowly getting closer and closer. He gave me another gift, a big black boom box of which I refused and he insisted, though it had no power lead. He got his arm round me and said ‘Let me see your Vagit’. I said no and he said why not? I got up to go and felt bad about the boom box and left it, shame. I told him that’s not what I was looking for and began to leave, thinking maybe I should have just stayed and had some fun. But my mother was waiting for me. I left and walked back to through university campus. God knows how I managed to find my way out of this odd maze. Later, as I was walking up some stairs on the campus toward the bus stop, I bumped into him. I was eager to speak to him as I felt that there was more to the story. He seemed the sort of guy to walk round alone and pride himself in it. He was very blaze with me and said that if I wanted sex I knew where he lived, even though I could not remember at this point, and said that all the other cliquey girls in the uni piss him off. He was obviously insinuating then that I was his sort of ride. He began to walk off swinging some sort of cane back and forth and desperately trying to engage more conversation, I asked what his name was. He replied, looking me right in the eye, ‘Slanders’ and walked off. He could have meant Alexander or something else but I couldn’t really understand and he wasn’t going to hang around to explain.
I then proceeded to make my way home and ended up walking into the old kitchen that I use to live in with my parents years ago. My mother and sister were in there causally cooking food and very happy to see me back. I felt bad as I realised I had left my mother on the bench, though it didn’t seem a problem at all, if anything normal. She was standing by the oven and said that she had made me a special cake and opened to show me. It was a little cake with blue icing, very sweet, not sure if it was wheat free or not. Georgie was making a meal that looked great, I was very hungry. I told them that I had just had the weirdest experience and then woke up.

Wise words from Joan Didion

'To shift the structure of a sentence alters the meaning of that sentence, as definitely and inflexibly as the position of a camera alters the meaning of the object being photographed.'

From her essay - 'Why I write'

Become a tourist again in London for a day

This past few days have been lovely. Upon the idea of visiting the bustling metropolis London from which I used to live, I decided to enter it like a virgin. Granted I have not been there for many weeks, and have lived in a small seaside town for the past year, citylife took some momentary readjusting. Though with a large backpack, half of which contents were unneeded, I took on the persona of a tourist and visited some free sites. A day packed in with evensong at Westminster, a stroll along the bridge with a good friend to the Southbank, a late visit to the Tate seeing Taryn Simon’s exhibition, dinner on the river and a stroll along the sand. The next day to the V&A to admire Japanese enamels and then a trip to Camden to visit an old friend. Hell, I use to do this stuff all the time living there, but just a short snapshot again was certainly suffice to support those awful tourist brochures.

http://channel.tate.org.uk/media/974388916001