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Saturday, May 26, 2012

Olympic London 2012 SUCKS !


























I am English born and bred and moved to London about 18 months ago. I hate it. It’s noisy, dirty, expensive, uncaring and certainly not meritocratic.

What’s more, I hate every single one of my stupid countrymen who tries to convince me it’s the best place on earth. I don’t know where this myth comes from but they all think I’m dead lucky to be living here.

Every time I suggest the place could be better it’s like I’ve told them I’ve slept with their mother.

Can’t wait to get out. Trying to find a way to move to New York.

Ally 



Lived in London my whole life and it is my goal in life to emigrate to Oz or the States, i simply cannot stand living in this smelly, crime ridden, overpopulated SHIT HOLE and on top of it all, it’s one of the most expensive cities on earth! The fucking cheek!!

Liam, London -




i thought it was just me. Live there for one year as an 18 year old at The London College of Fashion. Lived in New Cross and went to school in Hackney. I am from Ireland where everyone is warm and talkative and welcoming. In London, I plunged into depression. I hated every single second of that year.

lollylady -



London is an amazing city, unless you’re interested in the evolution of humanity! I can’t stand this place. I’m glad I’m not alone. I moved here 5 years ago (my father is English) and I feel like I’ve been swallowed up by an overcrowded, overpriced, overstressed, outdated, and uninspiring black hole!! I’ve lived in Washington DC, Toronto, Chicago, New York, Kyoto and Hiroshima and visited even more, but London is frankly the most disappointing place to live. I’ve stepped back in time. The streets are dirty, the culture is arrogant, tolerance is low, public transport is a NIGHTMARE, the politics are juvenile and highly aristocratic, basic services like phone/gas/tv/banks/post office are never straight forward to set up and will always leave you feeling victimized. The bar and club scene is sooo disappointing. Difficult to make friends unless you want to look/talk/act like everyone else. And very difficult to find places that don’t play top 40 music crap. I’m leaving to settle back in Toronto this year. I can’t wait! Thank you for letting me rant. Peace to all.

Benjamin



Like almost everyone says …i thought i was the only one that felt that way. I moved from NYC to London a year ago and I swear every time i get to JFK i wanna cry with joy and when i come in to Heathrow i spend a week getting over depression. The weather sucks ass i don’t think ur ever quite prepared for just how bad it is…why do i have to wear a coat in JUNE …..ahhhhh but its worth it because if it’s actually hot in june/july u have to contend with ac-less trains. WTF that should be a health violation!! 100 ppl in one train car 80+ degrees and no AC puh-lese. And the people are soo soo …words defy me…lets just say it’s not what i expected and i now deeply detest the “average” english accent and i swear if one more person tells me its to-MAH-to not to-MAY-to i’ll scream, i don’t say anything when u mispronounce “vitamins” and “Pantene”. Cant wait to get out of this grimy ass place….. ugggg and the shopping here uuuggghhh horrible..customer service WORSE!!!! i hate this place.

allie




I totally agree. London is a horrific place of epic proportions. The north of the UK is just so much better in callibre. Of course you’re going to get your crap places up there but NOTHING can be as bad as London. It is a fucking shithole. I do love my country, but London should be scrapped. It should be taken down and green fields allowed to grow. It is a wasteland that hasn’t been emptied for about 200 years.

puzzlehead 




hank you THANK you! what an amazing blog.. cant agree with you anymore.

london is vile, clostrophobic.. no1 speaks a word of english…. they look at you in hotels/shops/ whatever like your scum of the earth… the streets are littered with tramps… and a tenner wont get you more than a bus/tube ride a newspaper and a packet of crisps!

its pathetic

screw london

eli 



The pain of living in this country is destroying me mentally. It is so cathartic to read and relate to someone’s very accurate observations. London is SICK.

I have lived here all my life and I am trying to escape it as quickly as is possible because there is no life to live here. It’s not a city for ‘living in’, for obvious reasons. It’s a city to make money and then RUN AWAY FROM!!! The very vast majority of my friends have emigrated or have plans to emigrate.

I have a few aussie friends here who are making money and then plan to immediately return home. One friend actually spent a week crying when she was back in London from a visit home, sighting how unfriendly everyone is here.

We want to escape the dangerously high levels of pollution, the consistently horrendous weather, the despicable, angry, desperate people who habit the city who get become ferociously aggressive at rush hour, the filthy, ludicrously over-priced, filthy public transport services, the shocking lack of customer service, the overpriced everything, the small houses, small ‘super’markets, narrow roads, shit cars, population explosion, impossibly high levels of crime…. I could go on for days (literally) describing the crap this country offers.

THANK YOU for writing this. We all appreciate it greatly!

Lisa 



(a) arsewipes that say they want to live in a shithole area (generally greater London) because it ‘has character’. Might be true, if by character you mean filthy bucket of crap with dodgy people milling about a closed decrepit tube station at all hours of the night.
(b) mold and mildew infested flats with paper thin walls as some arsehole of a landlord has split a small terrace house into 8 flats charging 200 quid per room per week, extra if you want a luxury like window blinds – at least you get a free soap opera when the Asian family upstairs decides to have their bi-weekly domestic dispute. Never watching Bend it like Beckham again.
(c) black, nasty things that you have to pick out of your nose every evening after coming home from work breathing in that disgusting foul odour than seems to emanate from random points throughout the street
(d) an almost endless supply of scammers and small time conmen – ever tried buying a car from a second hand dealer in London? Trust me – been there, done that, took about a year off my life when they sold me a car WITHOUT THE WHEELS fastened on!
(e) limescale – i can’t believe this shit exists in the water here
(f) the useless roads and non-existent parking – the A406 story brought a smile to my face. Even the poor SatNavs get totally confused and give up when faced with those stupid roadabouts or huge intersections with five or six exits….with the street name uselessly painted on the road about 10 feet before the turn off and the white paint almost invisible due to wear and tear.
(g) and finally, the just plain horribleness of nearly every street. The same endless rows of Victorian housing without any endearing feature between one and the other.

I could go on..and on…the list would never end.

Mike



I am a fat English knacker who cannot be trusted, a snake, a rat, a man who pretends to be something that he is not. I preach trust and honesty whilst practising treachery.
I love London

Neil Grigg




I think the vast swathe of people agree that London is a shite-hole of the highest order…the only people who contest this point are either:
a)rich
b) limited in experience
c)not of sound mind (i.e Mental!).

Sure, it’s nice to go there for a holiday, see all the famous sites, and maybe even extend your stay to a few months. But living there a whole year and 4 months(2007/8 as a Postgrad at UCL) – is a completely different kettle of fish.

Admittedly i lived in the shite hole they call Plaistow, but when I arrived in London from Melbourne Australia, I thought there must have been some mistake…surely this wasn’t the London I’ve seen on TV? Samuel Johnson’s London? The london of the Queensguards and Wimbledon Championship etc etc?

There were sinister characters prowling the streets. There were gunshots and police sirens at night. There were rats in the streets and “hoodies” on every corner. And the Tube always reminded me of the nightmarish visions evoked in “Jacobs Ladder” with the twisted angry faces of the hell-bound passengers.

Someone above claims that it’s worse living in Australia…get real!!!

It was the underlying sense of distrust and dis-ease that got to me the most. I got racially abused about 6 or 7 times (I’m white) whilst living in London. The place is horribly divided along class / race and religious lines – see for example the recent racist murder of an elderly Muslim gentleman. After 6 years in Melbourne, the degree of aggression, distrust and hostility in London just blew my mind. Sharing a flat with a Senegalese and a Pole…now that was interesting. The Senegalese was an angry man..here illegally and the Pole…he was off his rocker. I used to be a patriotic Englishman but i thank God/Allah/Buddha every day that I managed to get an Australian passport whilst I was there – it’s my ticket out of that cess pit they call London.

jonno





2012Olympics OlympicLondon, Armageddon, British Occupied Ireland, Galway Whooker, Ghengis Fokner II, London 2012, London Olympics, Nuked, Olympic, Olympic Games, Olympics, Olympics London


Olympics London 2012 : SADISTIC SEXUAL GAMES BRITISH OCCUPIED IRELAND





 IT'S WORKING FOR BURMA, WHY NOT BRITISH OCCUPIED IRELAND?


                   Marian Price Ireland's Interned Aung San Suu Kyi


                      BURMA IRELAND "SAME SAME"







This small excerpt is from,  “The Grave of the Hundred Head”,  by Kipling after Burma on his way back to England in 1889. He and his friends made an unscheduled stop at Moulmein on the coast of Burma, where elephants, pagodas, tinkling bells, and a beautiful Burmese girl left a deep mark on Kipling. :

" When I die I will be a Burman, with twenty yards of real King’s silk, that has been made in Mandalay, about my body, and a succession of cigarettes between my lips. I will wave the cigarette to emphasise my conversation, which shall be full of jest and repartee, and I will always walk about with a pretty almond-coloured girl who shall laugh and jest too, as a young maiden ought. She shall not pull a sari over her head when a man looks at her and glare suggestively from behind it, nor shall she tramp behind me when I walk: for these are the customs of India. (From Sea to Sea, p. 221 line 19) "




With the global financial collapse and the  onrush of Armageddon at Olympic London 2012, I haven't been feeling myself lately. I'm recovering my strength here in bed in Aden the gateway to the former British empire, today I am reflecting on another of their former colonies, Burma, Maybe it's all the sexual innuendo in this blog, perhaps I need to explain a  little. My sleep patterns are disturbed, I still wake up in the middle of the night wondering about things like the meaning of the great cosmic game and what exactly do geopolitics have to do with my existential void? I ask myself about Olive and Pui,  it's all so confusing and even though they are aware its an open relationship sort of thing. So many conflicting points of view and ideologies these days its difficult keep it simple if you know what I mean. I have a confession to make which I haven't told Olive or Pui about because they haven't noticed.



Now the Aung San Suu Kyi conflict thing in Burma, was always a big issue with me and I couldn't wait for the sanctions to be lifted so I could visit Rangoon, Thankfully they are, so I visited last month before our protest trip on the Galway Whooker to Olympic London 2012 . There was a spring in my step as soon as I landed. Some old beggar in my face didn’t upset me and I I gave him something small, It felt good, I used to be a beggar myself years ago. Now don’t laugh, after Olive and Pui I never thought it would happen again, if I am honest. Some people say I'm a hard bastard, particularly after I split up with my wife, I was not in the mood. I’m not totally daft if that’s what your thinking, I’ve read a few books on Burma and researched Rangoon before I came and I heard all the stories. You can call me cynical but I know how to have fun emerging world or not. Ok I know what you’re thinking, taking advantage and no fool like an old fool right ? 



But believe me first bar in Rangoon, first woman but she really is different.  Now I have a friend who has known me a long time, who says I would get upon a frog...hmm is he really a friend? It started  the way it usually does. She comes to sit with me, gorgeous!, I buy her a drink not really thinking much and she just sits there looking right at me. I’d just had a blow job yesterday so I was n’t  really looking for action but I hadn’t any objections either. So here we go again I'm thinking, another night in an Asian city, ladies, drink, bar-fine, hotel, shower, blow job, usual shag but when I actually got her on the bed something odd happens. She has nice tits, a very nice ass, with perfectly cute puss but the way she looks at me does something. I cannot explain but I instinctively know it's not a one off. 



Next day when we wake up she says it spontaneously. "You nice man. I want to stay with you." So my cynical part is thinking, more bullshit..like..sick buffalo... old mum hospital...boyfriend up the street. “I have no family in Yangon." She says,  So I ask a few questions and she tells me she’s just arrived in Yangon from Mon state. She’s living with some girls, she does n’t particularly like and would it be ok if she stayed with me until she gets sorted. I ask her how much she wants and she says ‘up to you’. So I take her for noodle soup and I watch her look around the place. The way she’s looking, I can tell she is straight off the farm. She still hasn’t asked me for any money for last night. Before we leave I pass her a large banknote. She gives me a thank you gesture, tucks the money away and I put her in a taxi.



I go looking  around the city but I change me mind because I can’t concentrate. To cut a long story short I took a bit of a nap in the afternoon but when I wake up I'm thinking about her. Part of me knows this is stupid but another part says so what? Right so here we go again and as I get near her bar she’s already seen me. Her smile lights up the plaza, she comes over, I give her a hug, not too obvious. There is a problem however. A couple of guys down the bar are watching. One has got his eye on her and this is what I don’t like. Anyone with a bit of money can phuck her. I ask her why she likes me and I can see she does n’t really like answering questions like this but she says, ‘You like father me.’ That's fair enough, I can be sugar daddy no problem but  she know I like that little furry thing between her legs. I pay a bar-fine again. Is this artificial and sincere at the same time like we can talk about love and peace but underneath everyone there is a darker side with sympathy for the devil and I can feel the evil rising. 



Olympic London 2012  Richard tells me will be, Yanks, Arabs, Pakis, Poles, Chavs, 4x2s you name it and he especially can’t stand the flash City types he calls ‘getters’. When Richard gets a bit much we switch to the future time, AD, dated from the discovery of the Book Of Richard. What’s left of the UK exists on a little island pf communities where the people speak in tongues.This world is ruled by a geyzer called Livingstone III,  the night sky is called dashboard, children ride "motos" and food is called curry. There’s some good laughs in it too but after a while it gets zany and it’s nice to switch back to the real world where the characters are more believable. Writing about London these days is not easy, its a dump.



Where was I ? Oh yes I was telling you about Fon, I was paying her bar fine for about a week. We usually stay in bed till around midday, got some noodles and maybe did a bit of shopping. Then she trotted off and I would see her in the evening at the bar.  Life is odd, you think when you find someone special that’s the end right? But it’s a beginning too and I do love Olive and Pui. I get too philosophical sometimes or maybe Fon’s right. I just think too much. I would never meet a woman like her in Ireland in a million years. First off, Irish women these days are all mouth and very fat. Fat, noisy, pushy but maybe I'm talking about what you mostly find in the pubs these days. A lot of Irish lads are amazed when they come to Asia to find women like Fon. You get some rough ones here also but a woman like Fon can work in a bar, be polite, ladylike and make a lad feel good. It just seems to come naturally to Asian women. Most of them don’t even realize how cute they are. 



I love Ireland but I now love Asia too. The sex is great and there is no hurry but just lying in bed with her is cool too and watching the way she folds her clothes and rinses out her panties. I love the way she lets me look at her body when we’re having sex but she is still quite shy, dressing behind a towel. I ask her what she wants and she says ‘I want velly good man’. She is not really a bar girl at all or what I mean is she’s not really on the game, I go through the options but to telling the truth is all I can do these days. I can keep paying her barfine but that’s daft. How long can two people live in a hotel room anyway ? My visa’s up in a few days and then what? It just started,  I can’t blame her, If it was n’t  me it would be some other bloke.... just sitting there like fruit on a tree,,,but like Adam and Eve  I didn’t have to pick the fruit. So how will it end?Anyway I go to the bar one evening and no Fon . I mention it casual like to one of her friends. ‘Fon she go village,’ I catch my plane out of Rangoon next day.







London 2012, London 2012, 2012Olympics OlympicLondon, Armageddon, British Occupied Ireland, Galway Whooker, Ghengis Fokner II, london 2012, London Olympics, Nuked, Olympic, Olympic Games, Olympics, Olympics London

Olympics London 2012 : British Empire of Opium Death Dealer Games














In 1421, China's Ming dynasty Yongle Emperor ordered his fleet to convey an imperial edict with hats and robes on the king of Aden. The envoys boarded three treasure ships and left Sumatra to the port of Aden. As we shall see later there was good reason for the gifts, Aden at that time, along with the Suez canal later, being in many respects the naval port and gateway to facilitate east west trade which was critical to Chinese interests.

The Opium Wars, also known as Anglo-Chinese Wars, started with the First Opium War from 1839 to 1842 which were the result of disputes over trade between China in the Qing Dynasty and the British Empire. The Chinese Canton System in 1756  restricted trade to one port, so that they could monitor British trade, resulted in the British East India Company as result of the huge demand for tea in the west, facing an imbalance in favour of China, which the British redressed, with the cultivation of the Chinese population to opium addiction, in return for trading Chinese tea. Similar to Ireland today, after what  they call the peace process, where British intelligence agencies, control the distribution of hard drugs from their military in Afghanistan poppy fields, to their agents and paramilitary groups, in every part of Ireland, to control the Irish population with murderous consequence.   

The British merchants brought opium from the British East India Company's factories in Patna and Benares in British Occupied India to China, where they sold it to Chinese smugglers, who then distributed the drug in defiance of Chinese laws. The Chinese realizing the drain on their silver currency and the growing numbers of addicts, resulted in the Emperor demanding action. Some officials advocated legalizing the trade in order to tax it but were defeated by those who advocated arresting opium dealers and demanding the British turn over their stocks, initially refusing but eventually the merchants surrendered their opium to be destroyed. The British government then sent military forces from India, which plundered the Chinese coast, in order to dictate the terms of a settlement. The Treaty of Nanking allowed further opium trade, ceded territory, including Hong Kong, fixed Chinese taxes at low rates, granting privileges to foreigners not offered to Chinese overseas. Disputes by British merchants in Chinese ports led to the Second Opium War later.


With British Occupied India and its poppy fields under Britain's control and the strong mass appeal and addictive nature, opium was an effective solution to the British trade imbalance problem and the British simply had an insatiable greed. Within the Chinese mandarinate there continued an ongoing debate over legalising the opium trade. The Emperor a teenager who spent most of his time in bed with his concubines, many of them opium users themselves.

The story of the mid-Ming dynasty, where opium was a gift by vassal states, then used as an aphrodisiac in court. Eventually Chinese people from different classes and regions began using it for recreational purposes in a complex culture of opium. The transformation overtime led to its spread across all sections of society, embraced by rich and poor as a culture in its own right. The alternative perspective on life in China during this time is still for political reasons confined to scholars of history, anthropology, sociology, political science, economics, East Asian studies. 


Around this time, the British were selling roughly 1,400 tons per year to China. In 1839, the Chinese Emperor Lin, published a letter addressed to Queen Victoria, questioning the morals of the British government. This was just before the British executed a holocaust of ethnic cleansing in Ireland, which cleared Ireland of 6 million people many of whom died of starvation. Citing a strict prohibition of the trade within Great Britain itself, Lin questioned how they could then profit from the highly addictive hard drug in China. He wrote: "Your Majesty has not before been this officially notified, and you may plead ignorance of the severity of our laws, but I now give my assurance that we mean to cut this harmful drug forever."  The British government and merchant's response to Lin was to send a large British Indian army to enforce their drug dealing.


British military superiority, based on new technology along with warships, raped Chinese coastal towns, with ships supporting gun platforms with very heavy guns. British troops were armed with modern muskets and cannons which fired more rapidly and with greater accuracy than Chinese firearms and artillery. The British took Canton, sailed up the Yangtze, took the Chinese tax barges, a huge blow to the Chinese Empire, as it slashed the income of their imperial court in Beijing. The Treaty of Nanking forced the Chinese to pay taxes to Britain, opening four ports and ceding Hong Kong to Queen Victoria. The Qing empire recognized Britain as an equal to China and gave British extraterritorial privileges in ports.

Opium is a story which historians have failed to set in its proper social and cultural context neither taking account of the extent of its consumption in the history of modern China. Preferring to dwell on the opium trade, opium wars, imperialism and the politics of control, which is very relevant in places as far away as contemporary Ireland. The political history of opium, like its wars are only part of the story. The questions are at the point of which opium transformed from medicine into luxury use and why it was so popular and widespread when people learned of its recreational value. Understanding modern China is not possible, without understanding who smoked opium, when and why. The fact is the Chinese embraced smoking and using opium.

The social life of ‘Mr. Opium’ from birth as a recreational item to his old age as a social icon, is a perspective on the circulation of commodities and the things that are exchanged  with their meanings inscribed on their forms, uses and trajectories. In the analysis of these trajectories we can interpret the human transaction and calculations that enliven China, for example.  The social significance of Opium smoking was inscribed in its vanguard consumers, who were the literati, the officials with the pipes packed with precious stones and symbolic designs. Chinese people from different classes, regions and times, endowed many meanings to opium from luxury to necessity.


Many of those who wrote about opium, used sources prohibitionist in nature, the products of political revisionism. It is  the same problem of writers about drinking and other popular cultures. Information on the lives of the common people or Ireland for example usually comes from the outsider or from those regarded as a 'socially superior perspective'. Opinions of elite observers, have shaped historical generations, as opposed to that seen through the eyes of popular cultures on say public drinking, resulting in expressions of a degraded perspective, on the lower classes, and the pub or bar a symbol of misery and debauchery. 


The perception of opium suffered the same fate. Historians using prohibitionist sources, provided by  governments of the day perpetuating the prejudiced official line in condemnation of opium. Scholars and officials have cautioned about the prejudice of official histories. Sources of a historian are threefold; official history, family history and unofficial history. Older generations of Chinese warned about the problem of Chinese history being written by bureaucrats for bureaucrats, explain why official history has a solemn ethical function, the duty of expressing praise and blame as in the instance of say modern Irish revisionist history. Below is an excerpt from an alternative.

"The ‘genealogical method of anthropological inquiry’ is revolutionary, as Kopytoff has pointed out. His example is slavery. Slavery began with capture; an individual was dehumanised, commoditised and later rehumanised when he/she was reinserted into the host group. Dehumanisation begins the biography of a slave; it also marks ‘the diversion of commodities from preordained paths’. Opium was likewise diverted; from a herbal medicine it moved to become a luxury item. Diversion is ‘frequently a function of irregular desires and novel demands’. This could not have been more evident with opium in 1483, when a medicinal herb became ‘the art of alchemists, sex and court ladies’.2 This diversion shaped the history of opium and indeed of China for five hundred years to come. ‘A more theoretically aware biographical model’, Kopytoff stressed, should be ‘based on a reasonable number of life histories’. This book is the life history of opium as an aphrodisiac from the mid-Ming, as an expensive yanghuo or ‘foreign stuff’ and hobby among the scholar–official elite in the eighteenth century, and as a popular culture in the late Qing–Republican era and beyond. These histories tell us who smoked opium, when and why; they also help us to stitch together a much more complete picture of the Ming–Qing–Republican economy, and of its culture and society, and enable us to see both change and continuity in the culture of opium consumption.

This book examines opium from a cultural perspective because, as Daniel Roche has emphasised, ‘Any object, even the most ordinary, embodies ingenuity, choices, a culture. A body of knowledge and a surplus of meanings are attached to all objects.’3 Roche’s example is clothing. ‘Clothing speaks of many things at once, either in itself or through some detail. It has a function of communication because it is through clothing that everyone’s relation to the community passes.’4 The same can be said of other forms of consumption, including opium smoking. Roche emphasised that one should pay attention to the whole as well as to the parts; the signs that indicate  minorities, the colours that can characterise social functions and membership of different groups, the cut, the material, the types of jewellery. For this, reference the smoking sets and accessories that accompanied opium smoking. Roche also advanced much more: ‘the history of consumption must include analysis of demand, and therefore of the structuring of needs, the classification of consumers, the circuits of distribution and the spatial organisation of supply’.5 To understand needs, we must understand ‘the texture of our ordinary life’, that is, ‘the real weight of everyday life’, or the ‘history of what seems to have no history: material life and biological behaviour, history of food, history of the consumption of food’.6 For the Chinese, opium smoking, like tea drinking, was material life and biological behaviour, a history of food and a culture of consumption.

Pierre Bourdieu is significant here. His influential La Distinction: critique sociale du jugement studied ‘the science of taste and cultural consumption’.7 Bourdieu applied this science to the consumption of the arts and music; I shall extend it to that of opium. Bourdieu saw taste as ‘markers of class’ and consumption as ‘predisposed, consciously and deliberately or not, to fulfil a social function of legitimating social differences’. This was true with opium as its vanguard consumers, the literati and officials, enjoyed opium long before the ‘ordinary’ people heard about it. It was they who made opium smoking cultured and a status symbol; they who marked themselves apart from those below them, legitimating their social differences. Bourdieu analysed the consumption of pictorial and musical works. ‘A work of art has meaning and interest only for someone who possesses the cultural competence, that is, the code, into which it is encoded.’8 An opium pipe carved with an epic poem and served by a highly literate courtesan was limited to and had meaning for those who could appreciate the poetry and exchange-coded language. Bourdieu had ‘one foot in structural Marxism and the other in cultural studies’.9 The case of opium supports this approach. Opium was an aristocratic luxury item during the Ming dynasty. It became a necessity during the late nineteenth century. The story of opium is the story of taste and distinction; it is also the story of politics and class formation.

One of the most influential works on consumption is Jean Baudrillard’s La Soci´et´e de consommation: ses mythes, ses structures. For Baudrillard, consumption is ‘a language’.10 Breaking away from a standard productivist orientation, the post-modern social theorist believed that consumption was ‘both a morality and a communication system, a structure of exchange’.11 This was certainly true of opium smoking, where offering the smoke to friends, colleagues and guests involved a fundamental Chinese socio-cultural value in the late Qing–early Republican era. Regardless of whether one sanctioned opium or not, one must offer the smoke in order to be ‘ti mian’ (polite or fashionable), thus a Chinese ‘morality’, ‘communication system’ and ‘structure of exchange’ was created. Many sought to catch up with the Joneses; consumption became conspicuous. Consumption itself is subject to individual manipulation; it is also ‘subject to social control and political redefinition’.12 Parallels can be drawn to alcohol in general and vodka in particular. Opium is a perfect example of the political redefinition of consumption. When the rich smoked it, it was cultured and a status symbol; when the poor began to inhale, opium smoking became degrading and ultimately criminal. The lower classes made the consequences of smoking visible and social; the literati and officials had the power to reinterpret consumption. Consumption has never been a simple economic matter.

Mary Douglas proposed ‘a distinctive anthropological perspective’ in Constructive Drinking.13 Anthropologists brought ‘their own professional point of view to bear interestingly upon the same materials studied by specialists on alcohol abuse’. They argued that medical and sociological research exaggerated the problems. As Dwight Heath pointed out, ‘Even practitioners of the so-called “hard sciences” acknowledge that social and cultural factors must be taken into account, together with physiological and psychological factors, when one attempts to understand the interaction of alcohol and human behaviour.’14 I extend this distinctive anthropological perspective to opium because drinking and smoking are the obvious analogies. ‘Drinking is essentially a social act, performed in a recognized social context’; so it was with opium smoking.15 Many authors have studied the social context of consumption. David Christian’s Living Water argued that vodka played a crucial role in Russian society on the eve of the Revolution. Thomas Brennan illustrated the ‘positive uses of drinking’ in prerevolutionary Paris. And David Hardiman exposed the different political agendas injected into drinking in colonial India. Brennan’s work is important because it challenged the heavily used accounts of the intermediaries, ‘the three robes’ – the clergy, the nobility and the liberal professions – their condemnation of taverns and consequently their influence on the study of popular culture.16 Here, I will challenge the heavily used accounts of ‘the Chinese robes’.

Deborah Lupton has furthered our understanding of the history of food and the culture of consumption. ‘Food and eating habits and preferences are not simply matters of “fuelling” ourselves’, she writes.17 This was true of opium, since smoking did not fill one’s stomach. ‘Food is inextricably interlinked with group membership as well as kinship’, Lupton continues, and again, opium is a good example where friends and family gathered to share leisure through smoking. Food is ‘the ultimate “consumable” commodity’; so was opium.18 George Ritzer has identified ‘McDonaldization’, a process whereby corporations cater to the ‘lowest common denominator’ of mass consumer culture.19 The same happened with opium in the late Qing, when smoking catered for the lowest Chinese common denominator – coolie labourers and peasants. Peter Atkins and Ian Bowler have summarised recent trends in food studies. Where functionalists emphasise ‘the utilitarian nature of food’, structuralists focus on the ‘broader and deeper causes and meanings of food habits’ and on how ‘taste is culturally shaped and socially controlled’.20 Opium smoking was utilitarian in nature, but it was also socio-culturally conditioned. Structural functionalists such as Mary Douglas draw upon elements of both approaches. Douglas has deciphered the grammar of the meal, a structured social event. I will decode the syntax of opium smoking by ‘mov[ing] away from a reliance upon the production-oriented explanations of society, which [have] for so long dominated materialism, towards a framework that can accommodate considerations of consumption and lifestyle’.21 This is pertinent to the study of opium as a commodity and smoking as history of food and culture of consumption."


This culture is of course quite similar to the Concubinage culture, where a concubine generally a woman is in a marriage like relationship with whom she cannot get married for other reasons. Often only men of high economic or social status have concubines, because it can be expensive. Historical rulers maintained concubines, sometimes thousands, as well as several wives. Normally concubinage was voluntary by the woman or her family's by arrangement, providing a measure of economic security for both parties. In ancient China, concubinage was similar but inferior, to marriage. The children were recognized as legal offspring but their inheritance were inferior to children of marriage often receiving a smaller inheritance. Often concubines  bore heirs, when a wife was unable to produce sons.Western laws do not acknowledge the legal status of concubines or recognize only monogamous marriages as legal, leaving the woman a mistress without protection.  Romans did not class same-sex relationships as homosexual and a concubinus was a young male slave chosen by his master as a sexual partner.


Chinese Emperors sometimes kept thousands of concubines and in ancient China, successful men often supported several concubines and their families. Concubines on a few occasions were buried alive with their master to keep him company in the afterlife. Concubines sometimes achieved much power and influence. In the 'Four Great Classical Novels of China' there is the story of 'The Dream of the Red Chamber' believed to be a semi-autobiographical account of author Cao Xueqin's own family life where three generations of the Jia family are supported by the favorite concubine of the Emperor. Imperial concubines kept  in the Forbidden City, were always guarded by castrated eunuchs, to make sure they could not be impregnated by anyone, other than the Emperor. Dowager Empress Cixi who liked her opium, was perhaps the most successful concubine in China’s history. Cixi gave birth to the only surviving son, who became the Emperor Tongzhi. She eventually became de facto ruler of the Manchu Qing Dynasty in China for 47 years after her son's death.


In the Mao era,  the whiff of an affair could get someone fired from their job, demoted or sent to self-criticism sessions and even jail. In the Cultural Revolution, extramarital affairs were condemned, labeled as Male-Female-Relationship Lifestyle. One of the most popular videos on the Internet  was a clip from an Olympics promotion event, rebrand the CCTV sports channel as the “Olympics Channel.” In the video, the wife of a popular anchor  crashes the event, grabs the microphone and accuses the anchor of sleeping with another woman. Polygamy is still around among upper class members of some minorities. Polyandry exists among Tibetans, Naxi and Pumi minorities. Modern marriage procedure have led to a rise in bigamy. In the old days wealthy Chinese men, married three or four women at the same time. The wives sharing different duties and responsibilities, raising the children.The first wife usually had the right to order secondary wives around and her children given precedence.


In consumerist China today sex, corruption and money are often intertwined in people's consciousness. Money scandals have a sexual element with Chinese expression saying: "Where there is corruption, there’s sex. And where there’s sex, there’s corruption. A wife dumped for a mistress says, ”Mistresses are always lurking in shadows of corruption cases. If you don’t have money, you can’t hold on to your mistress.” In Shenzhen there are "concubine villages," where thousands of young women live in luxury apartments, paid by their lovers, close enough to the border that the men can take off early from work, visit their lovers and be  backhome in time for dinner with their wives. 

Zhang Yu Fen a wife dumped by her husband for a mistress organized a “guerilla squad for attacking mistresses” made up of dumped wives.“Unless mistresses are completely wiped out, we won’t be able to achieve a harmonious society and will only be left with the menace” mistresses present, Zhang says, “We, the socially vulnerable, have to get together to eradicate the existence of mistresses. Our organization’s aim is to punish these husbands and claim the assets we are entitled to.”  The local media call them the “mistress killers,”because they have assaulted some mistresses.

There are many credible stories in Ireland of asylums being places for specially trained concubines. The asylums it is believed, trained young Irish girls in speciality skills, while sometimes later selling them off to rich men in England. There are such stories going way back to one of the beheaded wives of the King of England a certain Ann Boylan from east Galway whose name was changed to Ann Boleyn to hide her true identity. In the Victorian asylums built by the English in Ireland, girls were sold into Victorian slavery to be intensely trained as sexual slaves in some instances, with a specialty skill for purposes as a uniquely talented concubine. They probably still exist, perhaps more consenting now, trained in erotic and creative arts, often with some religious element involved. There are also many stories in Ireland of young nuns being individually trained by mentors to later satisfy some reverend Mother, parish Priest or Bishops in orgies conducted in the convents scattered around Ireland. 








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Friday, May 25, 2012

Olympics London 2012 ; British Petroleum Sponsors Torture Pollution Again!



Sailing West is a bastard at this time of the year. My thinking was to get far enough out from the straits of Hormuz so I could get a straight run at the Suez canal but I had to give up and let the wind take me more or less Southwest. After a while it got more easy. The Galway Whooker behaved well and we managed alright on just the mainsail. Hit a few squalls not bad for the monsoons. So we have now reached the Arabian Sea The Arabian Sea's surface area is 1,491,130 sq miles and its width 1,490. The biggest river flowing into it is the Indus River. It has two important parts the Gulf of Aden in the southwest, connecting with the Red Sea and the Gulf of Oman to the northwest, connecting it with the Persian Gulf. 




Countries with coastlines on the this Sea are Somalia, Djibouti, Yemen, Oman, Iran, Pakistan, India and the Maldives. The larges cities on the Arabian Sea coast include Karachi, Gwadar, Pasni, Ormara, Aden, Muscat, Mumbai, Mangalore, Kochi, Keti Bandar, Salalah and Duqm. Aden a seaport city in Yemen is now our immediate destination, located on the eastern approach to the Red Sea. Its population is about a million people. Aden's ancient, natural harbour lies in the crater of a dormant volcano which now forms a peninsula, joined to the mainland by a low isthmus.The modern harbour is on the other side of the peninsula.


Aden's history is quite similar with Ireland's relationship with the British Empire in many respects. It used to be the capital of the People's Democratic Republic of Yemen ,until unification with the Yemen Arab Republic.The city was declared a free trade zone and the city gives its name to the Gulf of Aden. A legend of Yemen states that Aden is as old as human history. Some believe Cain and Abel are buried in the city.The port's convenient position on the sea route between India and Europe made Aden desirable to the British who conducted bloody warfare to possess it at various times. 




Sultan Muhsin bin Fadl of the nearby state of Lahej was forced to cede 75 sq. miles including Aden to the British. On 19 January 1839. The British East India Company landed Marines at Aden to occupy the territory. The port equidistant from the Suez Canal, Bombay and Zanzibar, were all important British occupied territories. Aden had been a way-station for seamen in the old world. Supplies were replenished and in the 19th century a place to to replenish coal and boiler water.Aden remained under British bloody control until 1967. 




Today Aden is dominated by an oil refinery built by British Petroleum a major sponsor of the Olympic Games London 2012. Today BP Aden tugs' jetties are complete with swimming pool and air conditioned bar. A revoution against British rule known as the Aden Emergency began with a grenade attack by the National Liberation Front (NLF), against the British High Commissioner on 10 December 1963, killing one person and a "state of emergency" was declared. In 1964, Britain was forced to announce its intention to grant independence but that the British military would remain there. 




In January 1967, there were mass sectarian riots, inflamed by the British with their usual divide and conquer strategy, which like Occupied Ireland served as an excuse to keep its forces there. During this time there were many attacks on British troops culminating in the destruction of a DC3 plane in the air with no survivors. On 30 November 1967 the British finally pulled out, leaving Aden with royal marines, being the first British troops to occupy Aden in 1839 and the last to leave. The bombing attack on destroyer USS Cole took place in Aden on 12 October 2000. In 2007 with growing resentment and old tribal wounds left by British colonial policies, led to the secessionist South Yemen Movement, a mainly underground leadership of socialists, Islamists, desiring a return to the People's Democratic Republic of Yemen.


Arriving in Aden at night, after being so long at sea has been a shock. There were glimpses of minarets and Islamic architecture. The locals were friendly enough. One of them, who spoke good English pointed us up to a group of exotic rooms to rent. I'm looking forward after the boat to a nice big bed and wouldn't mind being on my own but Olive and Pui are up for it, so I feel like I have to entertain them...they keep me awake and they start groping me. It can be a drag but I love it man. Waking up a few hours later in crazy places, miles and miles of desert as a  backdrop, its hot but nice and dry.


Another joint is produced and everybody is giggly. This hash we just got at the port is the very best Red Leb. This is a spacious bedroom on the second floor. Soft lighting, Indian bed-sheets, Moroccan cushions, joss sticks, standard hippy décor, but there were some classier, expensive-looking touches too, deep sofas. Swirling, writhing like gypsies on a beach, twisting, gyrating on the bed and floor, the sensual waves keep rolling in, we surrender and immerse ourselves in the mysteries of the human flesh. 






London 2012, Olympics 2012, London Olympics 2012, 2012, Olympics, Olympic, London Olympics



Thursday, May 24, 2012

Olympics London 2012: Stick it Elsewhere Cockney Sucker


Olympics London 2012: Stick it Elsewhere Cockney Sucker

London : United Kingdom | May 23, 2012 at 3:52 PM PDT
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The Indian Ocean is the third largest ocean of the world, covering approximately a fifth of the water on the Earth. Now we had planned to take the Galway Whooker straight over to Mogadishu but things are getting hairy there with bombs going off in Yemen killing their army in the hundreds, so we have to veer right towards the straits of Hormuz as a diversion for that reason and more importantly I have developed a fever where dialogue of any sort, with what he or she said is like a virus in my system, so you'll have to work it out for yourself, who said that and who said what, bearing in mind there are only four of us on the boat the Filipino Olive, Indonesian Pui English Richard and myself. Maybe I shouldn’t be so honest in this condition so I’m trusting you. I’m running on empty, feeling totally drained most of the time, unable to connect, emotionless
Sounds like something out of Beckett, unable to connect. I don’t have the patience for long descriptive passages now or character details, so I won’t be sharing much light on our human conditions, on a boat in the middle of the Indian Ocean. People are hungry for diversion. Some people think I’m an arrogant prick but they keep coming back, isn't that right Olive ?. It’s all nonsense of course, I know that, but it’s fun. I'm rambling with the fever alright but even at the best of times, it’s hard to tell who’s saying what isn't it ! Anyway the way people are these days you could leave out, he said, she said bits, because it all tends to blend into an endless verbal exchange. Just a long drone, might as well be talking to myself half the time. ‘Total self indulgence, etc., etc., Language is a sort of virus anyway these days, its so heartless and shallow.
Then there is too much space wasted transporting people here and there, which, with the aid of their bank card they can do anyway. Of course dialogue has its purpose. Dialogos. A conversation between two or more persons; a frank exchange of ideas or views on a specific subject, in an effort to attain mutual understanding the result is the women in front of me more westernized since I met them, wearing jeans, carrying cell-phones a lot of the time, Pui sporting red hair with piercing tattoo and well manicured. Amazing to think I hitched to India which is to my right now, when I did. Can’t imagine doing it now. Not possible anymore on that particular journey to the east. An important formative experience or a total waste of time?. Brave? Naïve more like it. Searching for something, still searching, a few more years and I might figure out what I’m looking for. Sometimes I can see the past more clearly but the present baffles me in an age of unbelief.
Are we totally lost or is this London 2012 Olympic protest trip preparation for the next evolutionary step. Still I consider myself lucky to watch it all or am out of touch with the real world or is just the fever. What was her name, oh yeah, Meme. I brought her a bunch of flowers in a brothel. Still, you’re either on the bus or you’re off the bus. Some are never totally on or off the bus with a foot on the bottom step, mostly undecided. But then sex I suppose is some kind of escapist dream too. It’s so relaxed in the east ,compared to those loud pushy western women.
But that journey is not possible anymore. No hitch-hiking across Afghanistan. Those days are gone with the only people going to Afghanistan now being NGOs and contract mercenaries. The memories are like flashbacks; buses loading and unloading in narrow streets, moustached men wearing cloth caps, piling in and out of old American cars, glimpses of minarets and Islamic architecture. Ragged, bearded and in that time from as far away as India like MU, squatting cross-legged, scraping pieces of large blocks dark hash scored in Kandahar. The memory of it all with this fever, makes me want to smoke again, something I haven't done for years but it was cool to smoke there walking barefoot on old cobbled roads.
Man an woman too !, I'm inhaling deeply from a joint and passing it to Richard , look man that’s Asia over there and Africa across there with Europe up there. That’s where we were, Asia is big man and the Iran they plan to nuke is big too.Hope you cats know what you’re gettin into. The East will change Western thinking soon, not before time.? Dig their crazy cannons man. They used them for hash pipes in Afghanistan, no I kid you not. Massive clay pipes they loaded them up with hash and passed them round with everybody having a pull. Afghan cats were cool in those days. So you think you can smoke hash? Wait till you get an Afghan jellum, blow your heads off, gently of course. Man look at that sky again. Dig those clouds man! great cosmic circus and we’re all part of it with something big about to happen. Big changes man, can you feel it? We are the agents of change man, we are going to change the world!
Now we are walking on the wild side a little, random perhaps but spontaneous. You's all know there is something’s seriously wrong with the former cosy, material, world emanating from the City of London but you's can’t let it go, can you ?. Well you will have no choice soon! Krishna, Kali...Yin, Yang.... . England doesn’t really work anymore, man . Shit man, we have tapped into the spirit man... just go with the flow...tap the energy source. Its a while since Henry Miller told London to Phuck off! Too fucking much, man. That cat was a mini god man! Turned on the life force....in the air man.... it’s free, man. But first we have to open it. Just talking is not enough, that's what this trip on the protesting Galway Whooker on British Occupied Ireland with internment, up the bloody Thames is all about. Phuckin Cockney intellectuals full of hipsters, beatniks or whatever the phuck they called themselves sitting around smoking weed and analyzing their self-centred lives, don't cut it man. Get to phuck out..before its too late....its too cerebral man!
Shit I’m horny, I want to ride the two women on deck. India to the right is wild man. Cows in the street with gurus, sadhus and wild holy men, ramblin around naked covered in ashes man. Weird shit and the people are great…especially the poor ones…they've got nuthin but they feed you man and if you get stuck you can always go to the Sikh temples…you can sleep there and they give you food... it’s free man. some crazy cats there man…I met a German who spent 10 years on an ashram... who could drink through his cock. There’s a revolution happenin man...a revolution of the soul...can you feel it ...this is just the beginning...I’ll tell you what man...in a year or two there’ll be men and women wandering around, looking for...enlightenment.. for themselves.;;;lookin for the Spirituality of Abundance...check it out woman...and maybe some just lookin for dope..... oblivion...who knows...
Oh man, I'm not just horny, those women on deck are something else man, sensual women is always feminine, rounded and abundant. They savours sexual enjoyment even when unaroused state they sexually moist. With such an abundance of juices, these sensual women give off a slight, pleasant smell which increases strongly when aroused. They like each other and me playing with their sexual bodies. I think I’m in love not madly but in a nice easy way. Which one you may ask? Both of them of course, Life! please don’t make me choose. Oh shit, those crazy women last night ..sometimes they're phucking sexual animals. They just went nuts. Tore off all my clothes, licking, sucking each other and me on deck in the cabin, at one point they were half upside down hanging off the railings and the boat. There was spinning lights, it felt like an alien abduction, damn they are insatiable, fever, heat..I better stop, I'm strung out man......
Wisława Szymborska 1923-2012 is famous for her subtle simplicity shapes and themes. The magic in this poem comes from her unconventional approach. She brings my attention to the easiness I feel in the absence of raw emotion of conventional love where heart and mind go to the opposite sweet uneasiness of love quaking my whole existence.
Thank-You Note
I owe so much to those I don't love.
The relief as I agree that someone else needs them more.
The happiness that I'm not the wolf to their sheep.
The peace I feel with them, the freedom – love can neither give nor take that.
I don't wait for them, as in window-to-door-and-back.
Almost as patient as a sundial, I understand what love can't, and forgive as love never would.
From a rendezvous to a letter is just a few days or weeks, not an eternity.
Trips with them always go smoothly, concerts are heard, cathedrals visited, scenery is seen.
And when seven hills and rivers come between us, the hills and rivers can be found on any map.
They deserve the credit if I live in three dimensions, in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space with a genuine, shifting horizon.
They themselves don't realize how much they hold in their empty hands.
"I don't owe them a thing," would be love's answer to this open question.










The Indian Ocean is the third largest ocean of the world, covering approximately a fifth of the water on the Earth. Now we had planned to take the Galway Whooker straight over to Mogadishu but things are getting hairy there with bombs going off in Yemen killing their army in the hundreds, so we have to veer right towards the straits of Hormuz as a diversion for that reason and more importantly I have developed a fever where dialogue of any sort, with what  he or she said is like a virus in my system, so you'll have to work it out for yourself, who said that and who said what,  bearing in mind there are only four of us on the boat the Filipino Olive, Indonesian Pui  English Richard and myself. Maybe I shouldn’t be so honest in this condition so I’m trusting you. I’m running on empty, feeling totally drained most of the time, unable to connect, emotionless


Sounds like something out of Beckett, unable to connect. I don’t have the patience for long descriptive passages now or character details, so I won’t be sharing much light on our human conditions, on a boat in the middle of the Indian Ocean. People are hungry for diversion. Some people think I’m an arrogant prick but they keep coming back, isn't that right Olive ?. It’s all nonsense of course, I know that, but it’s fun. I'm rambling with the fever alright but even at the best of times, it’s hard to tell who’s saying what isn't it ! Anyway the way people are these days you could leave out, he said, she said bits, because it all tends to blend into an endless verbal exchange. Just a long drone, might as well be talking to myself half the time. ‘Total self indulgence, etc., etc., Language is a sort of virus anyway these days, its so heartless and shallow.

Then there is too much space wasted transporting people here and there, which, with the aid of their bank card they can do anyway. Of course dialogue has its purpose. Dialogos. A conversation between two or more persons; a frank exchange of ideas or views on a specific subject, in an effort to attain mutual understanding the result is the women in front of me more westernized since I met them, wearing jeans, carrying cell-phones a lot of the time, Pui sporting red hair with piercing tattoo and well manicured. Amazing to think I hitched to India which is to my right now, when I did. Can’t imagine doing it now. Not possible anymore on that particular journey to the east. An important formative experience or a total waste of time?. Brave? Naïve more like it. Searching for something, still searching, a few more years and I might figure out what  I’m looking for. Sometimes I can see the past more clearly but the present baffles me in an age of unbelief.

Are we totally lost or is this London 2012 Olympic protest trip preparation for the next evolutionary step. Still I consider myself lucky to watch it all or am out of touch with the real world or is just the fever. What was her name, oh yeah, Meme. I brought her a bunch of flowers in a brothel. Still, you’re either on the bus or you’re off the bus. Some are never totally on or off the bus with a foot on the bottom step, mostly undecided. But then sex I suppose is some kind of escapist dream too. It’s so relaxed in the east ,compared to those loud pushy western women.

But that journey is not possible anymore. No hitch-hiking across Afghanistan. Those days are gone with the only people going to Afghanistan now being NGOs and contract mercenaries. The memories  are like flashbacks; buses loading and unloading in narrow streets, moustached men wearing cloth caps, piling in and out of old American cars,  glimpses of minarets and Islamic architecture. Ragged, bearded and in that time from as far away as India like MU, squatting cross-legged, scraping pieces of large blocks dark hash scored in Kandahar. The memory of it all with this fever, makes me want to smoke again, something I haven't done for years but it was cool to smoke there walking barefoot on old cobbled roads.


Man an woman too !, I'm inhaling deeply from a joint and passing it to Richard , look man that’s Asia over there and Africa across there with Europe up there. That’s where we were, Asia is big man and the Iran they plan to nuke is big too.Hope you cats know what you’re gettin into. The East will change Western thinking soon, not before time.? Dig their crazy cannons man. They used them for hash pipes in Afghanistan, no I kid you not. Massive clay pipes they loaded them up with hash and passed them round with everybody having a pull. Afghan cats were cool in those days. So you think you can smoke hash? Wait till you get an Afghan jellum, blow your heads off, gently of course. Man look at that sky again. Dig those clouds man! great cosmic circus and we’re all part of it with something big about to happen. Big changes man, can you feel it? We are the agents of change man, we are going to change the world!


Now we are walking on the wild side a little, random perhaps but spontaneous. You's all know there is something’s seriously wrong with the former cosy, material, world emanating from the City of London but you's can’t let it go, can you ?. Well you will have no choice soon!  Krishna, Kali...Yin, Yang....  .  England doesn’t really work anymore, man . Shit man, we have tapped into the spirit man... just go with the flow...tap the energy source. Its a while since Henry Miller told London to fuck off! Too fucking much, man. That cat was a mini god man! Turned on the life force....in the air man.... it’s free, man. But first we have to open  it. Just talking is not enough, that's what this trip on the protesting Galway Whooker on British Occupied Ireland with internment, up the bloody Thames is all about. Phuckin Cockney intellectuals full of hipsters, beatniks or whatever the fuck they called themselves sitting around smoking weed and analyzing their self-centred lives, don't cut it man.
Get to phuck out..before its too late....its too cerebral man!

Shit I’m horny, I want to ride the two women on deck. India to the right is wild man. Cows in the street with gurus, sadhus and wild holy men, ramblin around naked covered in ashes man. Weird shit and the people are great…especially the poor ones…they've got nuthin but they feed you man and if you get stuck you can always go to the Sikh temples…you can sleep there and they give you food... it’s free man. some crazy cats there man…I met a German who spent 10 years on an ashram... who could drink through his cock. There’s a revolution happenin man...a revolution of the soul...can you feel it ...this is just the beginning...I’ll tell you what man...in a year or two there’ll be men and women wandering around, looking for...enlightenment.. for themselves.;;;lookin for the Spirituality of Abundance...check it out woman...and maybe some just lookin for dope..... oblivion...who knows...


Oh man, I'm not just horny, those women on deck are something else man, sensual women is always feminine, rounded and abundant. They savours sexual enjoyment even when  unaroused state they sexually moist. With such an abundance of juices, these sensual women give off a slight, pleasant smell which increases strongly when aroused. They like each other and me playing with their sexual bodies. I think I’m in love not madly but in a nice easy way. Which one you may ask? Both of them of course, Life! please don’t make me choose. Oh shit, those crazy women last night ..sometimes they're phucking sexual animals. They just went nuts. Tore off all my clothes, licking, sucking each other and me on deck in the cabin, at one point they were half upside down hanging off the railings and the boat. There was spinning lights, it felt like an alien abduction, damn they are insatiable, fever, heat..I better stop, I'm strung out man......


Wisława Szymborska 1923-2012  is famous for her subtle simplicity shapes and themes. The magic in this poem comes from her unconventional approach. She brings my attention to the easiness I feel in the absence of raw emotion of conventional love where heart and mind go to the opposite sweet uneasiness of love quaking my whole existence.

Thank-You Note

I owe so much
to those I don't love.

The relief as I agree
that someone else needs them more.

The happiness that I'm not
the wolf to their sheep.

The peace I feel with them,
the freedom –
love can neither give
nor take that.

I don't wait for them,
as in window-to-door-and-back.
Almost as patient
as a sundial,
I understand
what love can't,
and forgive
as love never would.

From a rendezvous to a letter
is just a few days or weeks,
not an eternity.

Trips with them always go smoothly,
concerts are heard,
cathedrals visited,
scenery is seen.

And when seven hills and rivers
come between us,
the hills and rivers
can be found on any map.

They deserve the credit
if I live in three dimensions,
in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space
with a genuine, shifting horizon.

They themselves don't realize
how much they hold in their empty hands.

"I don't owe them a thing,"
would be love's answer
to this open question.