only applies to those whom i haven't met in person and are over forty years of age....
"the following" he says.
Rather the last seven years.
I always write only with a serene smile on my face and it is sincere.
In other words there is no angst, ever.
And in fact my only problem has been, seven years, that in writing - chronicling, but a very active form of chronicling - from 'within' scenarios...I have not ever come upon anyone worth identifying, all so shabby...and thus I always wish to retain a distance from location or individual, and their named place never mind their actual name.
There is a lot that is shabby. And it needs to be recorded. For some years my recording has been most careful and extensive.
It is the pandemic of complete shabbiness, seven years, which has so damaged several key aspects of rural living - that which is about sustainable cooperative smaller scale land use; and the always necessary work to keep in check large greedy corporations with their lies and deceit.
Land 'use' though does not mean some craft beer label version of bucolic paradise, nope the real version is a few people - whether they sleep in the same bed or not, mucking in together on mutually beneficial tasks that are often about a medium term viability... and not complaining about the whether as they do so..
For five years - ten really, I have roamed and sometimes become involved in one or other aspect of these two cornerstones of what it is about. I have had a secondary roaming purpose that arose organically, to encounter and speak with random walkers, ideally on hills, and tease out their opinions on a range of current topics that maybe matter. This kay seem rather fey, but no, because something happened in this country four or five years ago... a general brusqueness and even more sharp elbowed attitude - but a bleak sharp elbowing... no, not some national angry rage at something on twatter... a malaise in fact that is apparent in how many are not sure whether or not to carry through old habits... those they had been used to some years.
But that - the above, all sounds a little highfalutin... real stories or at least fables are required to describe maybe relevant perceived change around me. And that is what i collect. It is not some nice leather-elbow-patched corduroy jacket version though. I am only interested in what colour someone's piss is... and whether or not they understand that for example environmentalism means not pissing on me for fun thank you, but on your own compost heap because every single atom of natural fertiliser is required so as to allay the far too many atoms of not very nice fertilisers wasted ....by farmers. Who just cannot be bothered to do their jobs properly any more.
Oh shock horror - "aren't they some sort of national hero almost 'key-workers'...?"
Well not according to the right hand man for many years of a well known Tory MP who recently told me they are by and large cheats. It's just about gaming the system.
And not according to me and a range of undeniable plain evidence. Some of which i will share one day.
The Rubicon... the "pivoting" to use the latest ridiculous jargonny buzzword, in fact was crossed, and neck twisted beyond repair, ten years ago.
And for now i go back then and then to him. Ralph.
I was in the main - from age 7 or 8 for a decade, raised on and lived around very simple farmland of North Wales. Not in the 'welsh' regions - more mixed... very ordinary people. My parents were not farmers, simply started almost singlehandedly the modern craze of tarting up old barns and farmhouses and turning them into ...profit...
The only good thing about them is they were before the goldrush later on which meant some architectually remodelled 500 year old cottage would sell like hotcakes, and for a fortune. The few they 'modernised' they didn't really even think of selling for a profit or at all. They were almost bizarre follies. I avoided them. I spent my days with what it's all about.... a true rural yokel, but a teetotal ....and even if it has been turned into almost an offensive label, autodidact - in the pure sense of that word which was initially someone magnificently curious. Ralph was that. A yokel. A huge man. But the gentlest man one could ever encounter. Not formally educated. But his thirst for truth and understanding his curious society, was endless. 'Endless' is an understatement and badly written version of simply it was his core nature. Was him.
All day working in nature day in and out for years - chopping logs, tending veg patches for his living....ours... he would if he had an equal who knew all society was bollocks and so lets debate it all, and try and get some objective truth, never mind the truth of how society is destroying out nature... years we talked...
Building great fences and hanging gates together that would last decades; trenching the acres of veg patch together, and dealing with fallen trees together - all our many tasks always some sane conversation point ongoing as we dug chopped and sweated.... and then we would often get involved in one or other smaller scale farming jobs ongoing on the several small farms nearby distress-purchased by guess who...
We knew all the local farmers. Even the ones who the ex city fancypants incomers would poison-gossip about along the lines of "that one he's so dark.....so black cloud....likely drunk and living in his kitchen day in and out, the days he isn't thrashing the kids and wife..".
Back to Ralph in a little while. But back to The Rubicon first.
I have had a most varied life. But I have sought almost nothing. Perhaps i had all i ever needed age 13 or 14. I understood simplest values.
One of those values that often would apply around me - even on the land of the maybe lost and drunk antisocial farmers... was that when farm animals keeled over dead, there is no often about it - you always deal appropriately with the rotting flesh. And bones.
Not for any 'health and safety' or even pathogenic reason - the definition of the land is endless death, and rotting, and bugs... that's what soil is at least partly made of! No, simply for one simplest reason of all. Dignity. A code of the land - within a few days at least do something to hide away or even recycle a carcass of 'fallen stock'. It's just the done thing. Quaint old tradition you could call it.
Fast forward to a point ten years ago. One day I shall name this place. Because i have a rule - if an individual or that could be 'place' in that individuals certainly benefit - often greedily, from a place that is covered in all the main national newspapers as some rural idyll, and a few other idylls too... so yes if money of national regard is obtained on fraudulent spin.... I think that should be called out. And one day will most enjoy that chapter.
For now... think The Guardian and probably one of its top five getaway spots over many years mentioned - way off the beaten track relatively speaking, but still drawing the tourist....oops they call them 'visitors' of the more thoughtful kind. Ten years ago on one of my very regular five or so mile hikes around the hills near that place: gullies.. in the wake of hedges.. carcasses scattered far and wide. The snow that had causzed this death had receded weeks ago. And weeks later when i returned they qwere still strewn. Dozens. There are 'rules' - not of the man and his clipboard, but of dignity. Rural honour you could say.
No more.
And time and again i have encountered many other such scenarios - not as dramatic, not even involving wasted meat - my ferrits ( a deliberate typo, always...for her...makes me smile..) would have feasted on for weeks most happily, as would the many homeless in the most Horrid little city ever, only 15 miles away.
But i run ahead of myself...
I did it!
Three years ago i got there at last. Buit most of that is another story for another day.
Sometimes these last five years, and particularly from mid 2020 i do a little 'social work'. But that is not the social work of the fraudster whom maybe nearing retirement moves out to the sticks to join some musical ensemble of other far too old hasbeens and bore to tears, or to drugs in fact. the local homegrown youth at the local fayres and fetes... and steal maybe 20k from the state - that means you, and worse still their clients, by reducing their workload to some part time formal social work they learned perhaps back in Camden. or Wolverhampton - though they'll hide that....or maybe counselling, when in fact they are time-serving and fraudulently claiming to be caring .... cos all they care about is if they'll remember the lines to Knockin on Heavens Door at their gig next friday... meanwhile failing entirely to ever properly help any of their so called clients. I do emergency sticking plaster - a real name for triage...yet another jargonny word to hide the fact that only a few can be helped.... into real care placements or services that may indeed save their lives... keep them a bit healthy - away from the rope, whilst enquiring how bad are their drug and alcohol problems - just finding the truth a hall of mirrors...and ascertaining if they really are harming others especially children such that tough-luv hard hitting advice to get the fuck on the program, and i shall help you get there...may or may not be warranted...
But staying away from the subjective and even in supposedly enlightened pockets of so called civilisation, in otherwise stone age lands... where it is impossible to find a grown up simple analysis of some middle aged mother's truth: is she doing the drugs in front of the children, continually? )impossible - waffle about Asbergers - that makes the waffler look so...clever... waffle about anything other than amount of hours pwer week sdo fucked up in front of the children... which of course may require some hard talk, for her and their actual real benefit)
Real illness: cancer - helping the starving cancerous, with benefits and applications to fraudulent organisations that have websites saying they are there to help - and various smiling phone answers ion London....who promise to help. When they never could.
Cancer, and other real illness. Real illness. Bits rotting. Bits going really bad such as the piss is stained. "No matter what the fancy doctors and almost always chubby senior nurses may say, what they do NOT say, and what is in all contemporary science especially that Swedish study released in 2020 - loadsa sweating and puffing....over 50, fifty miles a week under own steam, without a dog as they slow you down...hilly cycle rides or hilly hill walks....we have plenty around to chose from..... loadsa NATURAL UV... that will cause you as the science says, to almost certainly LIVE longer... " And being no one can ever listen to that little factoid never mind do it... there is little point with point 3 "ehh we knew about age 16 that coming to terms with your own mortality is even good for the soul or spirit (links into all sorts of immunity systems) here on earth... don't be angry or even angsty... that'll just make it all worse....anyway as all the rich Londoners bought the houses you havent got any friends left and are alone... we all die alone and you may.... get used to it... unless you do more exercise its even more likely..."
Nope.... no point opening mouth...
But someone... even if they had been 'suffering' three years ago some entirely splendid - i mean respect it dodged all the pills and tests! random pathogen eating much of the bod... just got on their old sit up and beg at last, on the hottest day of three years ago, no onboard supply of water or even fancy receptacle to pipe it up from...and cycled a hundred miles... up hill down dale and back up another Snowdonian hill.... gasping.. hardly stopping....and got there! To see his grave at last...
And fuck talk about feeling ten years younger the next day. And even younger a few days later having spent 18 hours on the return - and death felt moments away much of the last stretch or fifty miles... as there was a strong headwind.
Good for me.
And the rest - there are pages and pages, big long chapters, is no boast. Nor ever even remembered in angst. It is all gorgeous ingredients for a hearty stew: percolating, murgolating... I know what the end result is - exactly what it tastes of, and the key is only to enjoy chucking in every ingredient.
And to start - with a pan...
It feels almost as good as if i have been waiting five years for a piss to publish that at last...i have many arty farty such images.
They will take a little explaining. And at last, today, 23 May 2022...i am free to do so, or start.
I am busy. Always no matter what rise at 5 or 530...I dislike very much people saying "I am busy" it is the pandemic of the age. As i share with many. They don't like that kind of gentle share. (even more dislike the next line "as Neruda said so wisely ' a conversation does not begin until we have been speaking for at least an hour' "In my defence my business is a bit different. Though all i wish is months of nothing. I can be bought.
Months of nothing especially in the winter in rural cold spots is tremendously good for you. I compromise and have some days of nothing. Things like 'grief' can onl;y be essentially 'processed' with a fuck of a lot of absolutely nothing going on at all. Been there done that. Because i did little, that period, essential little, i processed it well. You evolve better off for it all - if you take the time to do nothing, no matter what.... council tax you owe...or arrest sheet they play games with again.....risse to nothing. Ever. Love is all that matters. And if it is wantonly destroed. So be it...but you will never live through it unless you very very actively, do very very little.
But i digress to back, then.
Now - today, is all that matters. And what next.
My business is as follows and has been most regularly for more than five years: 1/4 of the waking hours on causes. I shall come back to that. One quarter of waking hours moving - cycling hilly byways with a shit bike - the shitter the better as the more you have to do the work rather than some new fangled eshoing off tech, the better or even better walkking My Hill three times a week...
Quarter of the time hard slog outdoors - on the land BY hand...scything their grass - oh silly billies they cannot understand: "by the time i manage to figure why your two hundred quid strimmer wont work i will have hand scythed that whole bank... and also taken care to leave some important species ...and saved you money" or sawing wood...by hand... because that is being HUMAN to others living nearby espoecially if at the weekend.... this quarter of the time is crucial - it helps one thoink... is antidote to all...of them.
And roughly a quarter of the time writing - i use the word 'chronicling' for convemience. It may indeed be emails or even other gizmo-sent missives... but it is all part of a greater whole i keep to discuss - well, show... preserve patterns and truths..
I have several places online i write in other pen names. Ohh naughty "anonymous ehh gotta be dodgy.." ehhh no... the truth that does not get into Guardian colour supplements is just how seriously viscious local burghers are in fringe areas in theory popular with visitirs diue all the lovely people and healthy communities...to those whom may have a minor reputation for saying things like "Extinction Rebellion are such morons because they don't even keep to simpler dictums such as ensuring CURRENT environmental law is adhered to is a truly great starting point....nope gotta be New Messiahs... gets them out of doing the hard bit... checking up on where truly awful real eco crime is being committed...as i do some of the time....and photoing it artistically...and figuring how to get it prosecuted.. "
Just one word of any of that and you never work again, and mauy be in real physical danger. Never mind it putting off any of the pandemic of prtend goody goodies who make up prospective partners whom have pandemicised the artea for uyears... noh you do not want to be seen as actually "walking the walk" or they'll be know you won't be able to afford the latest fancy fridge like the one Camilla and Jake just bought on their inherited cash down the road..
But back to the first quarter, even if it is all linked - a complete life project almost. Now over.
Causes - i oive wiythin cuases and write or at least make copious notes of what i find whilst DOING things for real.... for example the endless fake offers of concern - offered concern.... i think DSM does have a chapter on that... offered never shoved in your face which they would do if they really were concerned... for the dying man just outside one small town nearby for example... 29 years oldf and if he make sit out of that tent i shall eat my... "blogs" which are not blogs just notes and artistically jotting to keep me a little alive until i sit down one winter and write a range of long doodled topics out, propper...
good for me. Even if I am very stupid. Neigh a fool. As i jkeep thinking there may be someone on the same page just a bit who may even enjoy the true life - real life, alive life - especially the year, last, when shame was no more oh GLORY! in not being chief racing rat in his Porsche 4wd - even here... more stupid to think as only other purpose - some joyful collaborator may exist...
Nope, fool. Even if 'my' material i know is beyond compare. 'my' parenthesised because ion fact i believe in pure collaboration, all resources shared entirely. And i need nothing back from anything. Would quite happily die now, as there are none - actual collaborators. Surely the the only reason to have not been thus far by the man who clubbed many young badgers in the hills ... which is a figurative term for JCBd them... with their young to slowly die next to them... as he counts his environmental subsidies....
That MUST be turned one day into art - i don't much go for artists as i have been told - had it confirmed by a senior one of their own last week that they don't really care about much other thjan their art...
I discovered that three years ago - roaming around many of them....oh the false smiles and absolute guaranteed pledges to....do something with a few of us who cared about... that horrid Exit...taking us back pre Enlightenment as twas obvious then..
ANyway I do write poetically, but not when in such a hurry.
A few days a month get all those latest notepads out flip there are too many -cause A B and see if D was another liar... and to be even more super efficient load them up into the old jaloppy aside a turnpike road no one uses, and spread them out in natural sunlight - always seems top add a hint of piquancy - urgency and efficiency... but little real creativity. SO shut up and go for a nap, me.
The cave...oh yes the piss above. There is only one real story for five yerars which is the absolute two faced bullshit.... and those who don't quite bullshit interest in causes such as local toxic rivers and environmental work, i.e. they answer that follow up email after their smiley mask is tested to be at least slightly well informed, they then have such bitterflyitis its impossible ever ever to even coherently get the follow up email to mean anything as they forgot what they said/promised/suggested...
Their butterfly brains of course could not take in "if you mean what you say you will also make notes and plan next stages...in notepads or even on whiteboards..." nope its almost offensive for them to hear such things - a big fat microagression (i do believe the first time i have ever used that word ! never again its just poetry..) it means one MEANT what one said in conversation, rather than said it to be heard saying things people will admire the sayer for saying .... and of course even hinting that may have been the case is grounds for arrest - or at least attempted....so do make sure diaries and other forms of perfect evidential protection against the UK national sport false accusation, are always kept in order too...
Now this far that all sounds a bit angsty - nope...oh yes i still havent done the piss. If you for five yerars put every second into your causes - and also need to put the odd hour into lying on the couch in the kitchen gazing into the emebers... where you also sleep for five years as if a monks cell because apart from being cosy it saves time cleaning other rooms... or walking to them!
Then you also learn to laugh at your pan of piss... each time one of them... 'pretenders' ... frauds or whatever one wishes to call those whom bear false witness in public styating they are even an itzy witzy bit committed to caring about local wildflife then stab you in the back when you ask them to assist...very nicely...(thats the asking bit done nicely) ... that doesnt matter thats just sport.
But what is NOT sport is the endless ...time waste....so so many hours wasted on sincerely folloe=wing throu some conversation and all that happens, even if you will likeaseckersnot meet them in the street or market sometime.... every word messaged or even telephone spoken subsequently....
well thats what the pisspan is for... at every piss" hgood job i am smarter and better at mindfulness, the way i save maybe 45 seconds per pee in not going to the loo and indeed never needing to clean the loo.... cos it would have been either this pisspan for five years next to work and sleep and eating at the fire... or piss in the loo and the complete and utter waste of time every single so called human interaction about eco / eco law / solutions/ and social work to save lives would ind3eesd have showed me over the edge the total exasperation at time lost...or i wouldnt have been able to 'research' quite as many actual instances of such fey sad deceit... so i win!!! "
THis does not apply to any on my last roundMay 2021 if perchance someone ever can 'read' any ore.... nope... i gave up. And love the poetical and even arty imagery i have in my store... terabytes of it!! (vomit - i.e. 'sic' as they say. I do not lie or exagerate. I write ONLY for one human i will always love and need her to know she had an only authentic...dad... no matter what - total integrity - total evidence trail on every even seemingly extreme statement such that it can be evidenced as only true - none ever made unless its years of the same ole....oh Mr Orwell you would be most jealous of my trove..i wonder if i shall live to share it..anyway as my oppressor was full of grace and i do love her - thats the year ago oppressor in her stasi uniform...I must have grace ...must.. .)
