Spring – Bringing Life back to the world since 1993.

‘Ah finished’ My first book since I’ve been away. But now I’m thinking how hard and emotional it must be for a writer to actually finish writing. I mean that is a lot of hours, a lot of effort.

The other night as I walked to South Gosforth I came upon an allotment project. I want to garden it’s something I can picture loving, like everything else. This doesn’t mean anything, I just wanted to say it.

Although since walking I have discovered my love for the pencil, it feels easy, like we are connected, an extension of my brain through my fingers. Even if the wood comes from the destruction of the trees I want to grow one day.

Last night I felt strange actually talking again when I arrived it was exciting, fun, easy as well considering I had been almost completely silent for the past 4 days, everything connecting as it can.

This is where I want to start, since I have been following my path I have either been seeing or actively experiencing the bond between a ridiculous amount of things. For instance, in Selby, after my first brutal night of walking towards York, I sat looking battered, watching people passing so early in the morning. One man on my left, only feet away appeared from behind the statue, with two beautiful dogs. Both displaying a look of terror, I was about to understand why. Collars tight, pulled against ‘their’ will the man didn’t want them to move as he quickly fumbled through his pockets in search of his wallet, while the inanimate atm stared blankly at him. The next thing I saw, which broke my heart…

Two children. One boy. One girl. They couldn’t have been older than six or seven. It was at this moment that the father passed on the leads to his children, what do you think happened next?… the boy copying his almighty dads actions instantly, almost before he even had the red leather lead in his tiny, impressionable fingers began tugging, pulling, choking the precious pup. Yelling ‘SIT! I SAID SIT!’ As he struggled and the dog whimpering, scared constantly reacted with a hidden face, tail between its legs and still not SITting…

That sucked, sucks will continue to suck, probably for a long time, I just hope that dog finds some sort of happiness in that house, and that child finds something to reverse his learnt behaviours. Before they left I went over to the family of five and gave each dog a scratch and asked the boy what his dogs name was, I felt creepy as I looked dirty and battered like I said before so I don’t blame him for shying away, £££ out of the machine the dad walked away and his pets followed.

Teaching a child not to stand on a caterpillar, is just as valuable to the child as it is the caterpillar.

Now that is one side of the story, one boy learning something from someone he holds close and trusts, should trust.

They are adults. You already know what that means, they can’t be trusted – Whistle Down the Wind

The other side of the story comes from Charles Darwins works I found at the Newcastle Library yesterday. It goes;

I acted cruely. I beat a puppy… This act lay heavier on my conscience from my love of dogs being then, and for a long time afterwards, a passion

It also sucks, as a child, as an adult as humans we do make mistakes and they live on forever no matter the change that comes from it or the apology given.

However, if it’s possible to do bad, ‘cruel’, horrid things it’s also possible to do great things that matter, that help. I want to balance out my life and one day, when my time is up, I want to feel the feet of the people I helped, changed or touched if I’m lucky enough, walking their paths just like I have. Feeling the vibrations of great things being done as I become one with the Earth again.

I’m saying this, I am sorry, to everyone and anyone whose collar I have pulled too tight, squished with my boot or ‘beat’ like Darwin did to that puppy. You didn’t deserve that, no-one deserves that and it will eat away at me forever, there is no doubt about that…

I read another book the other day, an assortment of poems, not sure of the author but this is real:

One day I’ll be out of this wheelchair, But something’s I won’t leave behind, The memories of life trapped in one, Here’s hoping they make me more kind.

Like I said I have found another love in writing down the interconnected thoughts and rambling ideas, it feels raw for me, and it helps me become more and more thoughtful as I can actively ask myself questions and realise things I never would have without searching.

Now as another day draws to a hopeful close I stood by and talked to the lighting director for the Avenger films in the Baltic Gallery. Right there in the bottom right hand corner of this photo.

I also stood for 20 minutes watching Rodney Graham sleep in the back of a car being driven through a city. Was pulled into his pictures so close so I could see every detail of the newspaper and that the two hands coming from each side of the newspaper were slightly different, getting that close made the heat from the luminescent lights behind almost pushed me away, curious.

Now that I finished reading my book and I exchanged it for a Louis Theroux paperback, I can immediately see that,

Weirdness comes from the alienness to [you or] me specifically.

I mean I don’t like trains, they are ‘weird’, but someone, somewhere does. I mean some art is ‘weird’ to me, but, someone made it for some reason and now I can appreciate that. In my doodling and scribbles I wrote this and I like it, you might not, might seem ‘weird’, but that doesn’t matter;

A perfectly groomed haircut,

A quick Maccas down the gullet,

Clothes perfectly matching – brown on brown,

Two men talking about profit.

What’s important to you?

I think I’ve worked out one thing I’m ‘good’ at, something I’m proud of.

I’m good at observing, reflecting and changing and in one word I sent to a dear friend on the other side of the world, Thoughtful. I am good at being thoughtful to myself and for the little and big things in this world and you know what, I really like that. Like each step I take now is meaningful, is definitive, is special because I can see the world for what it is. And if I can’t, doesn’t matter, I can think about it, talk about it, discuss it, write about it and come to a personal understanding.

Here is another piece of scribble I jotted down while staring out the Starbucks window.

So many things happen, right in front of me. I stare out the window. Someone presses the crossing button, waiting for safe passage. A crowd gathers, obviously a win for the lads, as mob chants fill the empty air. Two men hug, embrace, one with both fingers in the sky, as happy as Larry.

One young fella runs past and tries to kick a pigeon, trying to enjoy a scrap of food next to a used cigarette butt, the kick narrowly avoiding the bird as it’s wings flutter about.

Not judging I don’t deserve that, but I sit here and imagine what things I could of conjured up from the outside looking in on myself. Hopefully they do.

The last thing I notice before the green man appears is the bloke standing outside, enjoying his gelatine based sweets as I do… well sort of. He pulls, struggles as he grits his stained teeth on his lolly. The only thing I’d say to him is ‘Chew with your mouth shut!’

Bing! The green man springs to life like the rest of the street and the horde ventures across the road. Safe and sound and now gone, all that is left is the seven different men, standing in seven different positions, smoking their cigarettes and eyes fixed on their phones.

All the while I sit here and wonder why the coffee cups are so big and why the toilet code is 1965…

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