Pope Simon The First (FECoO): June 2008

Occasionally I find a piece of writing I've squirreled away not wishing to dump for one reason or another. well I was looking through some disk transfers (floppy to pen drive, I did a few weeks ago), and found this (a letter to some one I was particularly interested in at the time). These are of course old opinions things have moved on since then:

Postcards From The Edge of Reality.

Went walkabout last night. Walked from Percival road down to Southsea through Fratton. Spent loads of time staring into shop windows at the sparkly objects like some strung out acid head. It's amazing what not wearing my glasses does sometimes. I get natural light flares. Reality warps and changes, I see one thing in one glance and another thing when I look back. The rain kept the rest of the Proles off the streets. I was walking with my ghosts last night. Nothing depressing just an interesting point of view. As I walked through Fratton it occurred to me that the buildings and the walking in the night, and the rain, was like Worthing when I was splitting up with the wife, I use to walk a lot then. That only lasted a few minutes. Then I remembered my Vampire clan in Stockton (My Role playing group actually, but we liked to indulge in a little LRP [Live Role Play], in the dark and seedy pubs and clubs round Stockton). They always make me smile, doped out of our heads playing some really complicated game and not being able to hold it together, for too long anyway, without one or the other of us laughing, or trying to make everyone else loose it. Stockton reminds me of my Grandmother, such a small coffin for such a large persona. I'm glad that I had the opportunity to visit her before she died. And just as I'm thinking about her I walk past a road named Darlington Road, the same road name that she lived off actually in Darlington in Yorkshire. I realise I'm in Southsea, and start to remember an ex-girlfriend that I spit up with to go to university, she came down here to Portsmouth and lived in the area I am walking through. Then I hit Abbots Road in Southsea, all those little junk shops, and coffee bars, trying too hard to be like Soho, or Brighton. Damn do I miss Brighton, half my youth spent wondering the back streets behind the station, in and out of record shops, down the lanes. Last time the stupid brothers organised a trip to Brighton (that's Pete and I) we hit a diversion. Then there were thousands of cyclists passing us by. Two hours later we managed to find a parking space in the lanes, but boy do I never want to see another piece of lycra again. Trust us not to have noticed that the day we pick to visit is the day of the London to Brighton annual bike race. And as I'm walking out of Southsea I realise that I'm walking the apposite direction on the route I usually take to walk to Southsea. I'm walking from dark thoughts into happier. I pass Scandals (the night club that is owned by Nordeen who also owns Springs in town, my Saturday office), Pete and I haven't been to one of their head banging nights in ages. Load heavy metal and thrash at the volumes it should be played. Also a DJ that when you ask for Limp Bizkit or Metalica, she just says yes next track or something a bit later (rather than looking blankly or laughing uproariously). As I head out of Southsea I dump the ghosts, and just begin to concentrate on the walking, and the getting wet. I pick up a couple of bottles of white zinfandel for Pete and myself, and a bottle of Colombard for Jo. Pete is listening to a classical FM compilation, and Jo is stoned off her box watching Jerry Springer (she can't help it) when I get home. I sit till one in the morning just nattering with Pete and drinking the wine. Just feeling very calm, having exorcised a few ghosts.

This morning, as I reached the middle of the bridge across the duel carriage way I had to stop for a second. Before me, behind the offices and the sewer works, there was a rift in the clouds, so dramatic it took my breath away. Above me was a roof of dark, homogenous gray cloud. Before me the rising sun shone directly at me. Behind the sun was stratified cloud like islands disappearing into the horizon. In front of them was a tableau reminiscent of the Himalayas. Endless mountains of cloud against a clear, almost painfully bright blue sky. As I looked at this all I wanted to do was grow wings and fly away.

What an interesting night. Went out to pick up a small bottle of wine (litre and half of Claret). Jo went out with her boyfriend but for only half the night. Jo's friend Helen rang whilst I was out, asking to pop round for a while. Hold onto your hat, here we go (questions will be asked after). Now Helen has just had a baby. Helen's best friend was living with Helen's husbands brother. Helen's best friend and Helen's brother-in-law split up recently when Helen's best friend moved in with another bloke and his girlfriend (interesting). Helen's Sister-in-law's roof was blown off in the recent storms. Helen's sister-in-law is expecting a baby. Helen's sister-in-law has moved in with Helen whilst waiting for the builders to replace the roof. Helen's best friend was badly beaten up by the bloke she is living with so has moved back with her mum. Helen's brother-in-law (who use to live with Helen's best friend) took this badly, had a nervous breakdown, dropped acid over the weekend, had a bad trip, tried to kill his brother (Helen's husband), who had to knock him unconscious, so that he could move in with Helen and her husband, and spend most of the day sitting in the corner of the kitchen rocking backwards and forwards like some vegetable. Helen's brother-in-law feels he can only talk to Helen about his problems, he believes that he has some blockage in one of his major chakra that is projecting negativity and bad luck on anyone around him. So Helen popped round for some piece and quiet. Jo came home about this time with her latest boyfriend. Jo's boyfriend got into an interesting conversation about creativity, calligraphy, and poetry with Jo's ex-boyfriend (Pete), and the lodger (me). This displeased Jo because her boyfriend and her friend were spending more time with Pete and I and not with her and she hates not to be in control, especially when she is pissed. So she joined us to be loud and obnoxious, and proudly announce that her friend was going to kiss one of Pete or I because she was pissed, and that it didn't mean anything. Luckily it wasn't me. Probably Pete, because he kissed Helen's best friend, because they were both pissed and she's not the sort of girl one would that with without half a dozen medical certificates being up to date and wearing a full body condom just in case. Add some more wine and some herbs and I'm sitting in the corner like some Martian "Earth Lander" collecting data ready for the mother ship to come and down load all this data I've collected.

Did you see the mist this morning?

It was great. The street lamps given that gas light ambiance. I was walking down the road minding my own business, when for the first time in ages I was back in "the city". The city is my long term project. An endless horizon of buildings. City planning by DaDa and Kafka, on acid. It's very "Billy Liar". But there are people in the city, millions of them that are all my creation. Occasionally I flip backwards into the city whilst walking somewhere, and the stories begin to create themselves. For a tiny moment I was there this morning. The little embittered Imp walking the streets in the smog, watching the passers by, trying to get his head focused enough to really make that change in his life.

Again this morning I am stunned into inactivity. Impressed by the livid purples, and blues of the coming storm front, contrasted against the azure blue sky. To my amusement a huge cloud in front of the storm resolved itself into a giant sailing ship, fully rigged sailing off to the horizon.