.. there is any argument as i have always deep down known i was right
first time, twenty years ago.
And anyway when you actually have let go into - not that there is any 'into'
as it is only a theory and i rather like Hoffman's conscious agent version, and
him, because he alone states unequivocally he cannot ever pove his own rather
clever version of what it all may be. But the "math" is there not
that we should ever allow American versions of anything to sweep over once far
more three dimensional public discourse, like that one would have on radio 4
maybe twenty years ago when the last glimpse if European real thought was still
perceptible - being somehow in some maybe untranslatable way there was a larger
acceptance of reality, society, the project of universal human rights,
interpretation of even Salvador's warped clocks, the lot.... don't take it too
seriously... but work on it seriously. Some of it may stick and be good. And
utilitarian in terms of diffusing the 'natural' state, which was never natural
because quite likely the far more natural state before language, books, and
ideas infected far and wide, t'was a little more cooperative and really rather
less cant vanity and conceit. A cave woman couldn't afford to waste time
looking in the mirror plucking her eybrows, there were clubs to finish off
making just in case the tribe next door got ideas above their station. Or spuds
to discover and figure how they can be left in glacial melt After
The Ice, (must get that one back, ohh yes i told the goddess wonder if she took THAT advice
...) and be storable a decade or so....
just in case.
Which is a doubtless soon to be illegal allegory for the fact that...
As it is the most important bit i should not say it as it will spoil the
tension and we all know tension ‘sells’.
Though if you discover as i did decades ago, trudging down one side of South
Island or was it up into the bush beyond Canberra, if the biscuit shops are
closed as you provision a little for such periods camping away from the fray as
you are so disgusted with the dinosaur eggs littered all around the mental
wilderness of that latter land especially, what with all their “ ehh Sheila go
and get a bong ... and don’t come back into the room until we say you are
needed..”
Irrelevant. Other than camping out back somewhere where their dinosaur mores
and memes can be forgotten, a week or so without any refined sugar at all in
the diet, and a fair bit of meandering along unable to get a lift, you realise
so slowly but do, how the mind changes,
not the ‘mindset’ - fine utilitarian
concept in a simple word, but it is the
actual performance and structure almost
of the mind that changes. You become
natural state. Even if interestingly
some tribes would have found some colonies of easily obtainable high sugar
nests of stingy crits, still, the great majority of human evolution would have
been aside much of that much of the time...or there wouldn’t be any left.
Not really a ‘tangent’ because i know
full well that the great majority are indeed ever so slightly at least
displaced into that adjustment of mind, into the organ that performs a little
differently when it is ‘triggered’ – only time i shall ever use that absurd and
problematical word as it is of course typically American and far far too
hyperbole and showoff and deep down only mirrors a truly neurotic so so showoff
cultural neurosis deep in the culture several hundred years i mean look at the
‘cowboy hat’ anyone who actually roams for days in the wilderness knows what an
absurd dilettante accessory – just basically some neurotic childhood attachment
disorder thingummy being their schoolbooks would of course have been full of
the founding fathers of their culture the dreadful ‘bimbo’ dilettantes of Liz’s
Court.. the first one. And before... bling... fancy pants.... of course America
could never leave that actually behind and if one watches the films of 100
years ago what strikes in fact is the ...
Well as one said to AC a few years ago “its all ... here too.... just Madame
Bovary..” and he did not disagree.
Fine French honest truthful self analysis – self being society at large of
course as memes are very very powerful things – Dawkin’s only great leap
forward. Linguistically and intellectually, but linguistics matter far more to
modern woman and man. The definition of
‘modernity’ being as soon as the first one started to bullshit. Or believe her
own bullshit – can’t work out which is more acedian and harmful.
But all this is ‘about’ as photojournism of late – the last five or so years
attempts to describe, is how when a whole subculture or maybe overlord culture,
as always in truth the Ladies being in charge behind the scenes because the
Lady’s version of how to live in rural fringe places all my life I have seen
creep in and dominate, and become the only setting...
If the aesthetic becomes only one (99% is definition of only; someone once said
to me “where do all those naughty one percents come from...dad..” and it is the
wisest little quip ever...) and the odd 1%
- me and just a very few know that neighcher... leave her be she is so
extraordinarily unfussy and lost -
having no map or direction, but nevertheless every bug bird and bee she needs
... for something. We can never know
what as her ways are so complex and interwoven, as Ralph taught me age
10... me ten him a very old huge
Godzilla of a man so gentle they broke
the mould.... [ i do not do typos except by accident - all cleverdick Miss Spellings are to remind
me alone to fill in bit i am not ready to share just yet – until i get to that
picture in the sequence e.g. the one of his grave i only got to three years ago
is so absurdly poignant your eyes should pop ...or at least you may pay a penny
for a copy of that one; i gave you for free – because all money is only ever
the problem ]
Back to a point no one will get because anyone ‘reading’ - don’t ‘scan’ by definition became one of
the little Bovaries (i love that typo! – on the very swiftest quick first proof
read .. ) ... you almost have to be one by definition to have something to
‘read’ this on. And check in .. phone
bills, endless laptop renewals cos even Dell now are so so badly made they last
about two years.... unless like me you can fix anything (but one person..)
...anything but motors i refuse to end up smelling of grease i have some
standards which are of course just class conceit but no
one is perfect...
Anyway a ‘study’ – a pretentious word
for living through a period - couple of
decades, and with a fairly clear mind due to only rarely eating refined sugar,
and almost never ingesting the other version of that in booze... and almost
always a great 7+ hours sleep, every night,
during the night when we are made to sleep....
Living a change.
Twenty years ago in rural fringey areas one would be able to have the
conversation: “smaller holdings [as we all know better for democracy and
potential eco benefit] , even stables or
rabbit farms or ‘rewilding’ projects (before that silly new concept was
trendified because country folk knew about 150 years ago if you read your
Walden never mind knew uneducated Ralph the
greatest lover of knowledge i ever knew) , economically require a few
people who may share a bedroom to much
in together....some of the time... at least or keep each other company a little of the time ... or if he must be on
his laptop all day then he can take her a flaggon of cider out at lunchtime and
get Rosie cheeked in the hay rick before siesta ... together... and as we all
know generally speaking ..maybe 99% even
of rural hobos and wenches havent got
into that new fangled habit of sleeping with their own gender in which case that
means only one thing.... in the winter you need one of the ‘other’ side
aside.... ad even rattus knows - or
neighcher told him, that the whoremoans actually change quite dramatically if
one spend a certain amount of the day or night snuggled up for warmth or other
things with someone else of the same species.... in a society so obsessed with
the American version i mean radio 4 let them all on those who love to measure,
and ‘data’... the science categorically shows that the data i.e. the stuff
present in the blood never mind other clear patterns favour snuggling up in the
nest with at least ones nipper or
ferrets .... cuddling your dog does not provide the same biochemical
‘benefit’... clearly ..
Because like the sugar thing, the mind is not altered ....so as to
understand (nothing) but live... cooperation, no matter what.
And thus the fringe lands are.... not viable. Unless you are finacialised
big agra, have stolen Southern loot and pension pot to piss in no matter what,
or are... a liar. “Rural honour” as i used to term it – no point, even words
like honour became to the sugar infested chirping type of mind, seems some kind
of surreptitious attack on them...
Of course ‘them’ is a banned word and anyway needs qualifying or
understanding. I think i only really ‘understood’ this morning. I got out of
the way of the simpler thought .. There is no ‘them’ there is only - perhaps for 10 thousand years, certainly a
few thousand... only fashion. Meme, trend ...sheep. Ad of course some things
that sheep get into are for utilitarian herd or individual benefit. But watch
any sheep for years, most things are not. Despite being deeply different and
seemingly soulful crits – every one a unique
character for sure maybe even vibrant consciousness, they sure get themselves in a lot of silly tangles, or worse.
No, it is all quite simple. Maybe in a Guardian colour Supplement, or maybe
some program a few decades back, modernising The Good Life ... certainly some
cynical cheap journalism in organs like The Guardian some cheap journalist
having a day trip from London out up the county line into for example
Herefordshire - very West, and writing
things like “lovely real community of lovely hobbit types here, paradise..” when in fact anyone that knew that
“community” knew full well that most of the hobbits especially that very tall
one were disgustingly nasty and selfish around their own children, when they
were sober enough to recognise their own children, and it would lead the whole
region in taking to horse tranquiliser for recreational purposes... and as for the earlier minor wave of incomer
neurotic Withnail types some 30 years ago and failed neurotic ex rock
stars.... well of course their children
will be far more in favour of the drugs the money the all of it... that has
absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with a just about ‘functional’ finely
balanced rural system that just about worked.
Now i have chronicled that. Bully for me. And i cannot share it as those
Guardian Reader types are indeed worse bullies than even the bully who refused
to take in his girchild after a divorce, he would only have the boy. And that
is in fairly recent ancient history. I better not say where.... but not too far
away from your theme park place of bookery.....
Which is of absolutely no interest to me at all as 20 years ago i smelled
the fin de siecle ... that never ‘fin’d .. just continues. But then it – define
that ‘it’ spread... everywhere. In which case i better shut up no point ever
writing because the definition of ‘philosophical’ i know from many years living
pondering studying, is that to think in a balanced objective way, one has to be
centred upon nothing. The fulcrum is nothing. Nothing but simpler ongoing real
things such as rattus ruining your day .. except he didn’t of course, one
learns that one can never know what, even when you knew for sure that was a job well done.
(many wonderful funny pics or rattus eating....everything literally, one
winter five years nonce.... plus film of one doing something which is TOTALLY
against all yokel spread country lore..... i mean i have so many interviews
saying it is not possible.... millions of groats would have been spent at
markets buying little pouches of ferrit poo in olden days cos someone spread
the meme it keeps rattus at bay.... well, snake oil as usual....sorry spoiled
the tension in that sequence i shall one day get to ...its more than ‘poignant’
its the answer !! to all the bs mindfulness snake oil...it IS the only
mindfulness i have ever encountered and i encounter many of its prophets and
know their garden sheds are decidedly unmindful.... seeing that sequence is
what i would wish anyone i actually did love.... you cannot even describe it in
any book. Some things you just have to LIVE.... )
So yes... London or Bristol or other centres of the unquiet mind... by
definition what they did is pretended they ‘liked’ the rural places – it is more
than ‘pretend’ – their identity, around the cafes of Kew or wherever else the
most dangerous creature on the planet would take her weaner... their whole spin project otherwise known as
‘identity’ became only ... i do mean ‘only’ that they must identify with an
archetype ..
That became every Guardian Colour supplement’s standard fayre, and every Wye
Valley magazine’s pornhub (oh yes the
founder moved to the area a few months ago – i know his woodman – that’s who
their kids will be playing with someone who’s grandad or dad is at home
directing the largest porn empire ever known...delightful...i am sure their
kids will be so so serene and balanced and progressive and inclusive and sweet
and not angsty and screwy, like they appear in all those colour supplements)
and ...
None of which interests me.
There are other places on the planet where woman and man can still muck in
together. And i have some most wonderful photos of a few who can still in this
region (i do not do places only regions – circles of 20 odd mile radius) and that couple you can see their smile is
real...no masks... i have a series i am
proud of .. because i know them years and know it captures their truth.
And they told me even more - the lies
and deceit of the invaders.... their bling. ... their always default EVENTUALLY
TO ONE SETTING: sorry not shouting just emphasis.
It is this...
And ‘they’ will not appear here – because i know them and value my fairly
cheap little lense and don’t want it cracking.
Well they may just sneak in to the corner of the odd image. By accident as
aide memoire.... especially the Queen of them all. Though I have no interest in
any individual and thus will never even tag a place. Never mind person. Because
they are not ‘here’ in fact that is the point...
They are provisional.
Let me try and make the point but as stated a handful of far more
descriptions ongoing so this one is drafty first draft. (and actually only
underway due extraordinary warm and benign weather as where i live is so
brutally cold i should be hibernating by now as neighchair certainly intended
though we shall leave that aside suffice to say the mind certainly slows down
when natural ambient conditions make it... as neighchair intended..) And it
will take a year to sit and look at so many poignant images and decide if they
can even be part described without writing the bloody Odyssey... which may be
underway elsewhere or may not be.
So, take Babs – Good Life Felicity. A
deeply wise and wonderful and useful series it is surprising how many still
recall it - even yanks who saw it on
their PBS... (recent ‘research’) and
hung on their every word. There was good writing in fact great writing and also
allegorically important philosophy in so many scenes.
But forget that ancient history. It was what ‘next’. It is the what ‘next’
that is the problem in several ways. In this so called culture at least. Others
I am sure not quite so ....hmm all words cannot describe. That’s the problem.
Only actions can. Oh better write that book one day though it is all so so
dull... bleak wasteland, that’s the problem.
He ... comes along grows a beard may not be even middle aged semi retired on
his rip off society Southern cash. He may even be in his 30s... He will rarely describe
how he can only afford the rural hideyhole because of the inherited cash from
the aforementioned group. His image is groomed to perfection. That’s a bad
line - I
write with NO time to think...ultra fast typing no plans... just the
notion from each new dawn ..need to have me 10am cuppa.....sunny day too.
He of course goes to Glastonbutty or says he has for quite a few years. He
speaks with that glint in his eyes of the drug called magic mushrooms – organic
not like the horse tranquiliser they guzzle in the founder town – his founder
place... his archetype he is only over ere as they cannot afford there .... the
richer ones of him, there... those whom can afford to have made specially the
crumbled metal bracket that keeps their 1950s or whatever ‘vintage’ Land Rover
sputtering along the street there...
de riguer is too fey a word for what a fuckin hypocrite... because of course
they are all so so so signed up to green.com on their online and all their
offline ... lies..
But that is not what matters.
A few years playing around with their new bit of land...a bit of coppicing to look good despite the
science stating leave it alone it doesn’t need you figuring out how much you
can charge for coppicing classes – a great way to meet new earth women from
Camden just in case you fancy playing away for a bit..
Or wasting Co2 by sticking a zillion
pics a day of all those smiley earth faces at your coppicing classes being all
storage even in the cloud has a cost...
In other words he is a formula, confection. What is interesting is how young
they die. Most of them in fact. They propone the healthiest of existences. By
maybe 50ish all of them have found some piece of machinery to identify themselves
with no matter what they said earlier about simpler life. A trendy vintage
tractor; some other such.... I never really knew how they spent their nights as
they were always the most boring people in existence as all confections are.
Perhaps they really did hide well many a late night on the Ketters or too much
gin .... despite their super healthy and rustic supplemental image.... because
as i say many really do die young. Must be that country air. Because their
actual ‘way of life’ they so well cloak in something other no scientist would
ever find any other common factor no
matter how deep she dug. Because of course he has a cloak. Her.... she too must cloaks and can
never state any actual real behaviour which may harm..
She, well one isn’t allowed to observe even just how superbly image
conscious always she is... the perfect slightly worn once 300 quid leather
boots... the image is simply better than any Vermeer in care taken and overall
net effect. She is Barbara without that awful genuine cheer as that is a tad
uncool. She seepsa certain knowledge ...
that her, their way is the pinnacle of bourgeois evolution – divested of any
bourgeois anything ... when of course it isn’t as their spades and tools are
usually the most expensive types.... because they have that inherited Rhodesian
family gold or tin mine dosh they never speak of... or advertising agency scam
slush fund
None of which interests me ...
Other than what a great poignant picture: how sad for those quite good
brands of tools that the smallest thing goes wrong and Mr and Mrs Green just chuck em in their own personal skip....
Dozens... mountains. SO far so dull. And seemingly somewhat Miss Anne
Thrope...
Nope... pity. Only pity...one day i shall get to that image. Of course we
know that ‘pity’ is the worst form of contempt for another, unless it is genuinely pitiful in
that a false identity - chosen or not,
is the greatest sin on any soul... it hurts. And makes people ill. Methinks and wonders maybe even the cause of
much earlier than should be death. So, my pity is genuine and compassionate and
unlike their yogi tea bag labels i do know what that word means.
I need to do those paragraphs a little more vibrant in image – i can.. i
have years of stories fresh as steaming manure in my head about them as i have
far too often had to compromise into being with them. Only to chop their logs
or relay their hedges. But i remember all – that is what a good life is, the
ability and freedom from angst and stress such that i always will.
But for now the issue is this.
Rural... small scale agriculture, or smallholding stuff or even looking
after horses or mentoring kids into
healthy stuff like horse-riding without a riding hat so you learn always to be
so sharp you predict anything ahead of a horse bolting... is medium term at least... build one set of
ferret cages or rebuild them and then a
week later mid winter the rattuses can have an unexpected ‘global
warming’ event as in a ridiculously warm December (’16 if my memory serves
which photo folder i must return to) and whatdyerknow they’re making hay....
And
a whole new generation is on your doorstep...and wild woodlands
around....with nothing to eat!! ... except your doorstep....well flip cage
would cannot have tasted nice but i guess it was what was inside – impossible
for them to even approach in a ‘normal’ year....
So, Mr and Mrs Green ... even if course these days she doesn’t go by
missus... nor do her slightly sultry so absurdly deliberately curious, looks in the Coop... (my real women friends –
the 2 left, say they play... bored...experimenting...nothing to do with me)
It is simply the (as always stolen and repurposed by the borderati ) c
word.... continuity.
If a region has been perverted by filthy lucre from elsewhere which is
nothing new and no lament in itself one needs some continuity. Her potting shed
man, cannot afford local rentals any more because they bought up even the
potting sheds, well over time as she sees (it ends up she as he will find more
and more reasons to pop back down south to be nearer the gold, her trips off
far more Nickers orientated or better hairjobs... ) Continuity means that over time she will see
her man - because the country ‘women’
are generally recovering drug addicts from Wolverhampon who can only be
‘gardener’ if the flymow is working properly and wouldn’t know how to hold a
scythe even if the neighbours make videos for Youtube to attract ‘workshops’ at
150 smackers a day...on just that subject.... their scytheman start turn he
imported from afar too as they are
terrified of their neighbours.... even
when they have had me up there all day once for free scything their anthills so
carefully...
So the occasional yokel -
sadly...except for her (wait for my photos!! – i find glorious exceptions too!)
99% male.... the few left who do a decent bit of hedge laying by hand scything
.... or even ‘trenching’ her veg patch....properly! (lookitup the hardest slave
labour there is) when her hulk of a husband could never find the time so busy
trimming the perfect hipster inspired bum fluff age 55...
Some over time you get to trust, respect, understand as equals.... and appreciate
they care not that land and housing is so absurdly expensive due her
imports.... nevertheless there is a balanced time immemorial way forward –
notionally: their motor, lots of money spent on it over the years, new gearbox
when he could only ever afford the breakers yard one on their wages... propper welding by a sober welder... well it gets a little shabby... it ends up
giften or fair price passed over to him... their serf...
And thus there is some viability.
Over time.... some systems
develop to rebalance things. Thats’s the
neighchair of things always has been always will....
Be
Until....
Thing is....what with him dying so
young or finding pornhub in middle age or horse pills... her as good as dying
the good those mindfulness classes do...
Well there could be many versions of the following few lines and maybe there
will be: they don’t last.... they don’t have continuity.
They were only ever provisional – their whole fantasy house of cards that
was so so viciously (correct word) preached to us...as them.
To a literary mind (the not ‘Festival’ kind of booksmind i.e. read them
alone and over the years they do broaden insight of things like fascistic
developments within smiling societies... ) it is fascinating. There did come a time when
i said “wow this most boring Guardian fawned over place in the world is, now, interesting the absolute dysfunction and even
dangerous sickness... that i know harms quite a few, never mind the children of
the region..”
But it does mean sadly that smaller scale pro habitats and nature land use
is doomed forever as it does take two..or three.... and
rural honour means get to cutting up that fallen tree for the fire next
year or one after once it has dried... no matter what and no matter how one
behaved in the pub the night before...
Not ever taking anything to heart.... the odd genuinely bloodthirsty family
or neighbouring valley feud, apart, of course...
And if you cannot learn that – live that...from those years swanning the
small high street a little more expensively clad as the norm (the women of the
region do know....) and sadly not getting the nails chilled or whatever
expensive ‘workboots’ he has three pairs of too, worn from actual use.... day
in da out year in and out, then you should have tried the fraudulent
mindfulness courses the Missus runs... because you took nothing from the ‘land’...
except the viability for those who may just have given a little back.
But it is the lack of continuity. You always see it. Three years..maybe
five.... 99%.. the house is dark. Something has....happened.... that has nothing
to do with simpler ordinary middle of nowhere, life.
But also...life....like mine (though only 75% of the time...maybe 85%)
tells you something else. That is life. The only life there is. Their life.
'They' won. I am pathetic anachronism fantasist, who yes must be
Quinn. Accept entirely and only smile at total failure. It is their
life. They are the majority and the majority always win. For a decent time anyway,
far longer than the Utopians may pretend.
Good job though i have such a huge store of ... ‘happy’ ? snaps.
I don’t need lucre from them but i do know truth is splendid nourishment and
food for the soul...and the best long term vaccination there is. Shame one
cannot meet any more anyone else who is not ‘sick. Their other ‘language’ ...
funny that country folk knew stand on a
rusty bit of barbed wire without expensive workboots just ignore it 99%
of the time the body will do what it was designed to do....expel nasties. Or rather errata, as the human is indeed symbiousis of many things that were in some way nasty, but had other positively arasitical benefit and thus became subsumed for all the right reasons - a better eventual whole. Which is a splendily clever dick sounding way to sign off - they are technically 'inhuman' .... indeed by any measure. If there is no conceivable symbioytically nedium term positive to them, they are not of us... splendid i have argued myslf live on screen unthinkingly as if the angels are in my fingers ... into yet another reason Quinn was right....
So where is he off to?
Hahh hahh of course... i went there once. Not that long ago. (by accident on a mission of mercy not for photos or indeed telling anyone else how close the the 'ethnics' i got) ... T'wasn't like this, there... the 'poorest' country in nutjob dangerous coke fiilled South America.... my my the poignant pictures i have from there of real...smiles... and that little film of the women of the market taking their scraps to the bin lorry ..is still the happiest thin i have ever seen in my life by far... the real solidarity laughter fun . humanity at its ethnically primeevil very best......and no there werent any toursits there either. It was for no camera.
