I Hate Having To Sleep In A Small Single Bed Each Night

My bedroom is very small. It's pokey. Like a deluxe room at a Japanese pod hotel. Everything has to be very tidy and in its place to make it look like I don't sleep in a charity shop store room, where they keep all surplus stock not good enough to have out on the racks.

I sleep on a top bunk bed because I stripped the bottom bunk out to make space for my piano and cupboards. Total walking space in my bedroom - a modest 3m². Ideal for moments of circular contemplation.

I was telling my boss about all this recently. She's a lovely woman. Very thoughtful and accommodating, appreciative, caring and happy. And she likes to enjoy a nice craft beer at the end of the day.

I was telling her about the miserly amount of sleeping space I get in my bunk bed, because it's made of metal and has a headboard and feetboard(?) which locks my 6'4" body inside a 6'3" frame. So most nights I sleep like an unmotivated starfish. If its proper baltic and the metal feetboard feels like ice on my toes then I will sleep fetal - but I prefer not sleeping scrunched up.

My boss listened attentively to my tales of woe, which must have been very boring for her.

I moaned about the unsatisfactory dimensions of UK bunk beds, and how successive generations of kids are generally taller than the last, but bunk bed lengths hadn't reflected this trend in child growth.

But then I instantly ruined all the sympathy in the air by talking about the perfect length a mattress for me would have to be, by asserting to my boss - "If I want to feel completely relaxed in bed then I'd need at least 4 inches to play with".

I'm Glad That Mental Health Sectioning Has Increased By 17% In The Last 2 years In The UK

I'm glad that mental health sectioning has increased by 17% in the last 2 years.

It proves that despite the Government's attempts to convince us that life is now better than ever with the lies and exaggerated stories it tells us through advertising and politics, something deep inside knows what is happening right now isn't good for us. It cannot be deceived.

I would have promptly shat myself if the headline had said sectioning had decreased by 17% in the last 2 years.

But I'm sad and I'm mad that a government which is bad, continues to stay in denial of what it sees taking place to those it doesn't have to interact with directly. Those people who are out of sight, and so out of mind.

Our government is now accelerating the country so hard that it will soon reach the point where its engine, its people, become completely burned out. Exhausted and unable to take any more, until the UK can go no further, and stops. 

Everything has become so unnecessary and over-complicated because we don't wish to accept that it can be simple.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-leeds-50472642

I Hold A View Which Is Diametrically To Nihilism Yet Simultaneously Accepts It

If nihilism is the rejection of all religious and moral principles, in the belief that life is meaningless, then I hold a view that is diametrically opposed yet accepts it. 

A belief of the truth in nothing. The nothing within. The supreme power of the void that lies inside. The black hole that consumes all that enters its vicinity. Returning all chaos which was configured into information, back into chaos. Into its gut goes the primordial soup of equality, where structures and collectives are broken down to their constituent parts, every one and thing made the same.

But like a pond that ripples when a stone is thrown in, information of what just took place remains on its surface. What was 3D is now 2D. The universe we know can be a projection. A hologram. 

This feeding frenzy by our fathomless furnace accelerates its gathering of mass - the more it consumes, the more it can consume - adding depth and breadth to its capacity, which holds more than we can ever hold, and knows more than we can ever know. Our celestial storage. Inner space in inner space. An infinite pit of energy and light which explodes once the time is right. 

A view which accepts that all religious and moral principles have worth, and weight, and thus meaning. Meaning which should be consumed voraciously. Fed into the black hole to be processed by the unconscious. The individual resists the urge of analysis while they gorge, drawing no conclusions, forming no thoughts of their own. They simply focus on the act of knowing, of consuming only knowledge which seduces with the promise of leading to truth. And they do this until the end.

Conclusions and ideas alike, shall come to them fully formed, forged exquisitely in their hidden unknown. And once validation of the value in whatever emanates and escapes without being beckoned has been grasped and then realised by the 'I', it assumes its role in their Being.

We Are Not Here

We are not here. We are sent. An aroma on the winds. Heaven's scent. 

Love

Love is a container which holds space for those within to connect without restraint

Message to N

Hahaha!! What a lovely message! I love how passionate you are in it! But I love even more how we've managed to stay friends and are now helping each other this way. I think I'll have another listen actually before I carry on with this message...

Haha!! When I heard you say "If I'm totally honest with you..", I truly felt that you were about to be, and started rubbing my palms together with glee. That's what I love the most. "Get ready for some good shit!", I said to myself. Do tell me if you have any additional criticisms to add that may have come to you since.

Erm....well, I don't really have much else to say really in reply because I don't disagree with what you point out. From my perspective I just wrote what I needed to write and it took that form. A form I knew would immediately be anathema to many of my facebook friends, but didn't want to change despite knowing this.

Ok, let me listen again and address your points as you make them...

"What it lacks for me, is feeling" - I agree. If taken as a whole anyway. The piece lacks the cohesion necessary to carry the emotions on a constant journey, and there was no attempt by me to address this at the time. Maybe in revisiting the piece today, as I usually abstain from from posting big pieces the day it's been written - perhaps the desire or need to fashion it into something more unified in its purpose will come to me. But I'm not going to force anything if it doesn't. Trying to make things happen always ends up with tears for me!

"It seems like you're talking about yourself in the past, and not in the present" - Yup. Agree with that too! I'm barely present in the entirety of the text, and make only a brief appearance towards the end. The text almost reads like a cold philosophical manifesto. Like it's aim is to propound something profound. And because of this appearance of supposed profundity, along with the text's didactic tone, it causes many people to want to stop reading immediately as it feels like it's contrived, on its it's way to pretension. Again, I was aware of this, and if the impulse to modify the text in order to ameliorate the sense of lofty pretence arrives, then I'll be all over it.

I think the voice IS from the past, as you say. It's not me in the now. It's like a voice from the past being recalled to the present, by Scouse Ben from the Wirral. "Who does he think he is plastering his tomes on Facebook like they're undiscovered ancient manuscripts? I think he may have gone a bit too far with this one". Hahaha!!

"You cannot talk about love with indifference" - Why not? You don't qualify that statement. What happens? What inviolable law is broached in doing so?  

But let's say it's true. Why does the crime of talking about love with indifference mean that it also cannot be spoken of with a voice of purest reverie or abject despair? How are the two linked exactly? Is not aiming between emotional extremes a fine example of striving for mediocrity? "...where what you're invoking is a feeling you can't interpret as either joy or pain".

Jouissance is a feeling of ecstacy, and jubilation is not far behind. Am I misinterpreting you here?

By the way, I used the word 'crime' up above because it fit better, so don't feel like I'm accusing you or anything!

I feel like the cohabitation of statements about knowledge acquisition alongside those of love spoken with a dispassionate voice offends your sensibilities of what is proper. I think you find it grating!

"Knowledge...what knowledge is and how it's experienced, is technical" - I'm not sure what you mean by experiencing knowledge technically. I think I'm more interested in what constitutes the act and process of knowing rather than knowledge itself to be honest. The dynamics of knowing.

There wasn't any intention for the themes of love and knowledge to ever engage, interact, or dance in harmony together; so any contact made was purely coincidental. I just wrote out my thoughts in a serial fashion and refused to do any arranging!  

"Is this really profound? Do you really believe it so? And if you are, then you need to go deeper into the feelings of that to express it in a new way, in a new form of love, of knowledge" - I wholeheartedly agree with you. But I don't think that new form should consist of ordered words. It should remain silent and operate within the realm of the ineffable. 

"...in expression where knowledge becomes another person in the other" - Yes! I'm all for people being transformed for the better through expression which brings them a sense of knowing, which leads to a new becoming.

"And when we talk about otherness, it is something we can never have, we can never possess. It is always absent. It's an absent presence" - Are you sure otherness is something we can never possess? How do you know? More importantly, and leaving aside the proving/disproving aspect - what benefit or advantage does it bring you in believing resolutely that this is the case?

All Knowledge Worth Knowing Cannot Be Taught

All knowledge worth knowing cannot be taught. 

It has to be seen or experienced by the individual itself and felt as truth, otherwise what is learned are merely things society has deemed valuable in order to go further in the game it created.

If your mind is so inclined then it's hard to arrive at the point where you see the words that escaped your lips played a role that was crucial in constructing the reality you now know.

Knowledge doesn't come from books. Information does.

Knowledge of worth, which no one elses knows, is created through knowing one's self, more, in relation to information one imbibes. Books can point in directions with questions and wonders inspired, but answers are all there inside us. 

If you know this, then it will seem to others as though you are well educated despite holding no post. Because you are your own university. The issue is whether you have the courage to enrol and the patience to sit in its seminars, engaging with tutors, who are all parts of you.

Some people see learning as the task to increase the sum of facts and figures in their heads. Knowing is a process of accumulation to them. Of acquisition. But I see knowing as the process of becoming one with the thing I wish to know. Having the thing I wish to know live inside me.

Knowing is an act of embodiment. Fusion with a truth. If I wish to know about love, I know it. I don't read books about love or watch videos where experts wax on about what love is. I just allow myself to feel it. Open myself up, let love inside and grant it the freedom to occupy me.

Love is a squatter whose presence pays all bills

When love is inside me I listen to truths each moment they rise, so don't stress about being on time for its lectures. Like I would in the real world. Because Professor Love is a guest I hope never leaves my house! I learn from her when the time is right. (which is most fortunate, as I am always late)

Many things in this world seem the wrong way around. Like learning. Learning, for me, occurs in emptying one's insides, out. With Art. With Words. With Actions. With Breath. Remaining as such. Never harbouring. Never holding onto. (how full of myself do I sound!) 

It is the art of continual removal of all detritus and debris in the mind. The flushing of obstacles strewn all around, littering its ground, that make one have to tip-toe when going place to place; shifting from memory to memory. Learning is the expelling of all mental refuse we discard when we're discarded, which we refuse to accept began with us, and now swims thick through the air the self is breathing. Turbulent currents of single-use plastic with nowhere to go accumulate in mind over time through denial. And the only place you always are becomes a blizzard of trash pelting you into submission...

Empty it!!! Take it in your hands, turn it over and then tip it all out. Go on, give it a good shake! Make sure you get everything. You missed a bit. No, there! A soggy ALDI receipt. I know, but it still shouldn't be there.

The renewing breeze that only Spring can bring now wafts through the endless pastures before you. Nothing but an infinity of open green space. Nothing but nothing. Cleansed of contaminants you now feel so free walking from A to B in the shortest way possible between two points, with no need to circumnavigate the globe to move 2 steps ahead. You're free to wander without aim through a land you now remember is yours, whose rivers and valleys and mountains give you no fear, and so have no need to be governed.

Having said all this, I don't put up with nonsense in my internal kingdom! Like memories of events banding together in my mind, forbidding me from entering their territory (despite me owning the land!). Out of bounds areas of my self trying to prevent news about what goes on there leaking out, overwhelming me with bad feelings should I come too close. I can't be having that kind thing taking place in my world, I'm sorry. It can breed only fear in one, and loneliness in the other.

It's not a very pleasant, relaxing on the bog of a morning with your favourite newspaper in hand, suddenly hearing a thunderous rumbling crack coming from above. You glance up to see the roof of your house being gently removed, revealing a lovely blue sky high up in the heavens beyond - noting to yourself that it's actually quite nice out today - before a massive beady eye assumes the position of your late roof, an eye belonging to a nosey giant who peers in at you while your bowels in frustration express their reluctance to leave a job half-finished. Petrified and unsatisfied, you immediately turn claret, flushed with fear and embarrassment, hoping in vain that in naming the giant as the pervert he is, with lungs at full capacity, he will turn and scamper towards the horizon feeling ashamed of himself...

But the nosey giant stays and just smiles at you

That's how those places within our minds which don't wish to be known by us ought to be treated. Albums of memories we've buried deep below, have plastered over and long walked away from. Memories too pained by trauma to accept their own voices but desperately wish that they could. By removing the roof of the fortress they erected, the safe space they need to reside in to guard against knowing more pain, the shame of our scrutiny, and the fear of being judged unfairly by others for feeling the way that they do - by lifting the lid and then peering inside with a curiosity free from all motive and intention - healing through an acceptance of all that we are and have had to endure to get here becomes possible, and so hope is born.

Endeavour to locate and expose, all of the mind's no-go zones while they shit on the bog reading horoscopes, and with a friendly Scouse accent wave down at them and say

"Alright mate!"

(actually, don't use a Scouse accent. It may be too grating for some)

And so as each passing day escorts me closer to death, I make a conscious effort to free up all space in my mind to keep it perpetually vacant. Free from all things unknown and any disposable needless clutter. Because there's always more you can learn that has worth. And believing this allows one to become a learner for life. You'll always have space for new lessons learned as there'll always be room to receive them.

YOU WILL FIGHT ON REGARDLESS

Give everything you have and still more, until you've expended all energy and collapsed in a heap. But know that you would rather have it this way than be beating yourself up forever; pissed up and consumed with rage created in you by witnessing the daily injustices Power has normalised and caused many decent working class folk to now fear losing. 

Don't shut yourself away from the chance to continue to fight with fellow comrades hard-wired to carry on till the bitter end, whose determination and resolve can reignite your fire and make you want to sharpen the blade of your intent and stand up again.

It's precisely these moments, where one feels like they are being suffocated by a blanket of ominous dread, wielded by the hand of Power that is prepared to do whatever it needs to in order to win, that you have to say NO. You're not having it. You won't accept these feelings of helplessness. You won't allow yourself to act in accordance to the script they've written for you. You will fight.

Facts Are Like Bricks. Assumptions Are Like Bricks Which Vanish When Facts Turn Up.

A fact is like a brick. It's concrete. Something you know you can build a structure with that will stand by itself when completed. As long as the ground upon which it's been built isn't subsiding.

An assumption is like a brick which instantly vanishes when the fact it claimed to be calls BS and outs it as a fraud. 

Losing the odd brick near the top of what you built isn't so bad. Holes created so high up don't have much weight to bear. But losing bricks at the base of what you've constructed isn't so good. When facts suddenly turn up at your house telling your assumptions to GFTO then you have several options.

Close your door in the face of the facts and go back inside. But sooner or later your house will start creaking, then groaning, before collapsing.

Or see if at first the facts will fit in the spaces your assumptions used to be. Or strip the house back to re-lay where the facts should be and build your house up once again. Or just demolish it completely, and start from scratch if you have the energy, and know how to build houses. Just never ever fall for the illusion that you can live in someone else's dream. Never buy a Barrett or Persimmon Home.

you cant feel self-pity if you don't have a self

You cant feel self-pity if you don't have a self. Not possible. If you believe there's a self then you split yourself in two. I, myself, take advice from Girls with Spice. Let Two Become One. "Gonna make love to yer baby..." Life is unfair so you feel sorry for your self, not you. Because you is me. So be we. "It's the only way to be..."