Living on Borrowed Time

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… without a thought for tomorrow. We live, breathe, shop, play football, watch football, eat, sleep, make love, with either the faraway concept that one day we die and that is it, or the faraway concept that one day we die and there is so much more.

Each of us has to choose our own ludicrous.

Despair is a process, the eating away of belief in a meta-meaning until all that is left is us as kings and queens of a ruined kingdom of one. Maybe we are right to reject the possibility of life after death because hell, there is no proof! At death, we simply cease to be in the same way as before our birth we did not exist.

Belief and Faith are oft derided concepts, these days. Just because we believe something to be true does not make it so. People talk about the ‘leap of faith.’ But I don’t believe it is a leap; it is more of a step, a decision to set out on the road from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City.

Who knows, we could be wrong. We might fall into a ditch along the way. The people who guide us could be charlatans.

But what is the alternative? A planet of reason consumed by consumerism, a world of warring certainties?

No thanks. I’ll make my choice, I’ll take my chances, I’ll fall over, curse my own stupidity and try again. But always believing in grace and mercy.

That’s my ludicrous.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01HNCG2H2

 

 

Land of Shame

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I remember train journeys. For some reason they stick in my mind. I remember going to Southport as a child and losing my bear. I remember travelling to Scotland and the land was under a blanket of snow (I was visiting a university and had ‘Fisherman’s Blues’ by The Waterboys on my Walkman).

Other times I look through train windows and see a despoiled land that doesn’t seem to give a shit. Other times I look through my car window at motorway verges and roundabouts and see the trash that people have thrown there.

I take the dog for a walk and have to lead her feet around the smashed beer bottle and the Maccie D’s boxes thrown from the passenger seat of a speeding Ford Fiesta.

I walk through London’s parks and see two things: a sign saying don’t leave food for the birds because you’ll attract rats and a homeless man sleeping in the sun.

So what is to be done? Say ‘fuck it’ and throw our own garbage into the hedgerow? Leave our towns and cities a wasteland of industry and consumerism? Accept that those less fortunate than us live like human garbage wrapped in cardboard and plastic in the doorway of Matalan?

I admire those that volunteer, those who tidy up, who plant flowers and crops, those who help those in need. Those that do something instead of blogging and reading blogs.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01HNCG2H2

 

 

The Abyss That Laughs at Creation

page 0.5http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01HNCG2H2

‘The Abyss That Laughs At Creation’ is an illuminated book. I had the privilege to see some of William Blake’s original books in the John Rylands Library in Manchester last year. We live in time of crisis, change, revolution and uncertainty, as did Blake. My own country voted this week to exit the EU. I voted to stay, my parents voted out. We are a nation divided, a family divided and as Blake and Milton illustrated, we are people divided. It is intra-personal conflict that interests me, that led me to create this book.

Abyss is inspired by my heros: Alan Moore, Alan Garner, Susan Cooper, Montaigne, PKD, Massive Attack, John Foxx, Dylan, Goya, Joy Division, Hoffer, Spencer, Nietzche, JGB, Camus, Jean Grenier, Norman Maclean, JKR, and many others. The story is 120 pages long, circa 8,000 words-ish I think, and then you’ve got my Wacom inspired doodles instead of WB’s genius. The central character is John Walsh, no it isn’t, the central character is the Will to Negation… To misquote Neil Young, a little part of it in everyone.

As Saint Paul of Tallaght says in ‘Wake Up Dead Man’ Jesus help me, I’m alone in this world and a fucked up world it is too…. If you like ‘Abyss’ please do review and rate it. If you hate it, please do review and rate it.