When the light flickers and the switch does not work.

Not quite able to make a connection. When the light flickers and the switch does not work.
When the light flickers and the switch does not work.

Regardless of the positions i have so far fulfilled in my short life, a permanent unauthorised niggling hides inside me. Never being able to uncover the reason of the niggle i proceeded to commit as always 100% to my jobs.

I open my eye, exposing myself to the world. For sure, i will embrace this day and i will conquer the tasks passed my way. 

My main concern was, and still is (purpose).

When i was growing up, i was surrounded by a family of workers and automatically i assumed it was normal to, just get a job. As long as i could pay the bills that bombed the doormat everyday, things would be alright, that’s what i thought anyway.

Some jobs, i admit, i hated. Most on the other hand i have thoroughly enjoyed. But still i was targeted by the niggle. The niggle ate away at me like a cancer and there was no cure for the niggle. I had no answer. 

Day after day for years and years the niggle invaded my soul, lurking, below the surface. There was a question there for me, i just did not have a clue what it was. 

I wanted to be a million things in this life, if only i could just work out the one true purpose of my being.

Time passed and times changed, and so did the jobs. The more i searched the employment sections the worse the niggle became. At first i thought the niggle was frustration, but i was only angry with myself. Angry because i could not find the cure for a question i did not know.

One thing i did know though was that there was no way i was living my life in the same lane as everybody else. The niggle mauled away and laughed in my face and the gears would never change up so i could switch lane. I was moving through life in a slow motion.

This life so far has used me for its personal gain, and i have let it. I have been a slave to the everyday life of working, like millions do, for someone else. I have to do this, i have no choice, or so i thought. 

The older i got, the more i wanted. The want was only achievable with cash and i obviously worked harder to get what i wanted. I was never in love though, not truly, work was work.

Then one day my life took on a game changer, and i moved countries. Just like that. Gone. That move changed me, and all of a sudden i wanted to be smarter. Not only smarter, but educated.

The enchantment of being surrounded by multiple languages was quite breathtaking and annoying at the same time. Some people i know speak five and more and i wanted to know more. Self taught education became my new priority. 

Learning a new language baffled me, i just could not absorb the words and get them to stay in my mind. In one ear and out the other, followed by the niggling, crippling my genius.

Again, the searches into employment were just clicks on a screen, and then i realised something. The realisation was, that as much as i was educated in the real world of living, i never had one certificate to prove anything  that i was worth. 

For the first time in my life i wished i had studied when i was at school instead of clowning about.

The panic gripped me. I now had a niggle and a panic, a terrible panic and no direction. Thoughts of what i would be doing in my life up to the grand old age of retirement haunted me. There was no possible way that he, who deals the cards, dealt me only jokers, surely not.

Time again moves on,leaving me stranded on the platform without a ticket to continue on my travel. 

Long lists of qualifications appeared after the job descriptions and every-time, i shit out.

The strangest thing happened in the summer of 2016, and a tragedy tore my life to pieces. Those pieces of my life were scattered to every corner of the universe. 

After withdrawing myself from the gauntlet of life, stress of the brain felt like an explosion, a meltdown was looming.

So i read more and i drew more, but still the irritating niggle beat down on me. Kicking my arse at every turn.

I could not tell you how, or why, but, instead of drawing, i began to write.

All of a sudden my arm just did not want to stop writing. I wrote down just about anything and everything that was on my mind. I would write tales and stories about my life, good and bad. 

The writing  stopped me reading, but i just could not help myself, i was becoming addicted to the ink and paper. Book after book i filled. Then i moved.

This time, the move was to a caravan in a forest in a off-gridder kind of way. i was all of a sudden, Bear Grills. After some time in the caravan, something hit me.

The niggling had stopped, just like that. The seriousness was that i now could not believe that my writing was the cause.

Since that time elapsed, i have never stopped writing. I feel great, fantastic, free. The pressure that used to pound away in my head has gone and i feel at ease with myself.

I am confident that writing was what the niggle wanted to tell me. 

Working a shitty 9 to 5 is still on the cards for me at the moment, but i now feel my love, and i will fight tooth and nail to change my life for the right reasons this time.

All i see now is that i want to be a writer, an author. Seeing my work in print, with my own two eyes………… That is my dream.

The time is mine


 The time is mine


The time is mine, school is over, and i have no more work for a whole day and a half. I look at my good friend, Pepsi, and we high 5 it. We high five it and we mean it. We are the f__king A-team, except i am more Murdoch than B.A. I smile, and its a smile that fills my face and i plant my hands firmly in my pockets, and we walk away from the 2 million pounds worth of bricks. My pockets are laden with stone chippings that have built up over the last few weeks because i do not do laundry weekly. We f__king built this place with our bare hands and this pleases me. It is a skill and my hands are a long way from the softness of the live music venue i used to have. Yes, the rustic castle has taken up a small chunk of my precious life and my brain has become a memory bank for as many different shades of brown as you can imagine. Every-time I look at these blocks I automatically think of the Romans and before I even get to the gate the Romans invade my mind. Not those Romans, the Romanian family that my boss has accumulated. They just have to leave quietly, that’s as fair as I can be and now my brain designs a million plans of elimination, some are stupid, most are just so outside the box you just would not have thought it possible and the hardest thing for me is to think straight. It’s a real fight inside my head keeping stupidity at bay and allow sensibility to run free, So now I just whistle my tunes and smile my way through the day and if only they knew that the smile is not the smile of happiness, its the smile of a man in thought and I am with you Stallone, every step of the way. The eye of the tiger, what a song. Slamming the huge metal gates closed, pieces of flaking metal hit the floor as they clang shut and I can think of a head or two that would look good hanging off the square bars. This is Sparta and i bring a whole new meaning to construction.

A quick turn round after the gate gets locked and 180 degrees later and the gold Opel work vehicle that i was sure was definitely here this morning has definitely vanished. W.T.F. All I see is the tarmac in the spot that housed my ride home. I do not need to rub my eyes to double check the reality. The f__king car is gone. Now I think about time and all of a sudden i do want a watch and i do want to know where my precious time is going. This is my time, time i have earned, worked hard for in the rat race of life. I don’t worry about the fact the cars been nicked, I just found a new curiosity, time. This is my time and nothing goes how it should do when its my time. And now i am not friends with the clock of life.

All of a sudden I float into my private world. And in my world, time stands still because its my time. Time is a right f__king pain in the arse and I f__king hate clock-watchers. Watching the watch doesn’t change shit, it just means you are the governed by time. Its bad enough that I was put here on this in-equal planet, only to grow up working my time for some other individual who is obviously smarter than i am. This is my favourite,” don’t be late next time or you will get the sack”. We are robots of time and i am f__ked if i am gonna die on the clock of life. I will die on my own time.

I feel heavy in that instant and I wonder if its because I have not washed all my work clothes this week or the fact that i need to find a missing car, in my time. Obviously its neither as i lack this kind of giving a shit and then i remember  I should have locked the car and removed the keys, but i didnt. And the good lord punished me for this mistake and now my time and my plans are distant in my memory.  I take a look at myself as best I can, and yes, its safe to say I look a bag of shit and could easily be mistaken for one of the blocks that I recently embedded in concrete. A photo now would prove that you can blend in, given time. I dont think i was born to be a blended in kinda guy.

Thunderstruck comes to life on the J.B.L blue-tooth and I still see no car on the tar as the oxygen to the brain resumes play. Not a problem because while I was in my little dream-world”Pepsi” did explain fully that his wife had borrowed the car to go shopping. I only heard the words, Wife, car, shopping. I worked the rest out and didn’t miss anything important. The mind is a multitasking tool and my world is a pretty f__king cool place, when people just let me be. There . And now im thinking about the bloody time again. This time thing fucks up your life. I love A.C.D.C. Sends power right through me, and maybe i was born in the middle of the railroad track.

Tick Tock Tick Tock does not go my clock. i cant hear my clock because i am waiting on someone, i hate waiting on people and Here we go again, and I got a whole thirt0 minutes of wait. I got one and a half days free time. Correct, they call it Free time. This is my time and you take it from me. I say it again because obviously free time is a favour from the gods above. And god do I feel grateful, grateful for sarcasm that is.

And now we are walking to the bar. Well it was either left to the town or a right to the pub. You can just see it really, it was obvious, a thirsty German and a bar or a shopping centre. So hear i am dragging my concrete arse all the way to the bar and we walk with the A.C.D.C playlist thrashing out a distorted high volume on the mini J.B.L. I do not even like people much, but i do like women and i do like dancing, on my own, with lots of space. Yes i have a mind of my own but sometimes i forget that i could just go home. And that is a small  problem with being easily led, and that addictive streak that runs deep inside me. And fuck yes, my plans are gone now. That missing car is now responsible for anything that happens during the rest of the day. I feel better now i have named the car as blame for the bar.

During the walk I think about how in an instant, any thought I had has disintegrated. Disappeared into that invisible smoke in the sky. All morning i plan my time, and i do like to have a plan generally, of some sorts. Never said the plans work but still, god loves a trier. I have just wasted thinking time whilst planning what to do in my time. So im getting sick of time. I wish i could smash the shit out of time. This is what happens though when you rely on someone else. Fuck I am so hungry. I am always hungry. I do love my food. I could eat some pussy right now, and i really am that hungry that i really would eat some pussy. You gotta keep your energy up, and i have a high metabolism. I only have myself to blame but i  f__king love the Germans, seriously.

This is the best boss I ever had. I do a good job, we do a good job and the boss has no need to really speak with me unless it is to do with a new job. And whats even better is that the guy i work with all the time is not much of a talker. Work could not be any better, but then i must have been a real ass-hole in my previous life to be working this hard now. I have only worked for a few companies. 9 to be exact. And yes, it was not my fault, But I have learned. I am just a slower learner at some things. Keeping my mouth shut keeps things simple and I am a professional at getting things complicated. I work with the bosses brother so its difficult not drinking, but i dont and the Germans love a drink. A strong drink. A long drink. A drink that spells destruction. The more I think about beer I can see my afternoon writing session is out the window. Gone. Kissed goodbye. Thirty minutes is all it takes. We get to the corner of the street and the sun blinds me as i round the  bend, the last street before you leave this tiny Spanish village. All the signs point to something bigger, and I can hear music, its not our music but we turn off the box anyway. We have respect. And I can clearly now hear Dr Alban, it is my life, It isn’t my life at all. But it is my time, If it was my life, I certainly wouldn’t be fucking working. Its actually quite hot and a beer is sounding, tasting, smelling all the better as the seconds go by. All of a sudden i have a thirst on to match my hunger.

I am just having an outer body experience and im flying to locations of drunken moments in my life. The carnage, oh yes, now I remember. That’s why I don’t drink. I cant just have a drink. One drink. And what with my personality as well. It just never seems to end well. But I cant tell this guy that. He might find it funny and on purpose want to get me drunk. And I like my job. So lets keep it together.

The bar is busy. Its more than busy and cold-play comes on, clocks. Some-ones gotta be messing with my head, or pulling my plonker, that there is an omen. I should leave really, but I just don’t have the commitment to see it through or the energy, Well, I do really, I just choose to fucking ignore it, because thats the kinda guy i am. It’s the good advice that I just didn’t take, fuck you Alanis Morissette, I am staying for a beer for sure now. Mr play it safe has left the building. Yes Alanis, it is fucking ironic, I can certainly think of something that can blow up in my face, the bar-maids pussy, for a start. And im in a drinking slutty mind set now and it s all the cars fault, and I don’t wanna be the old man that wins the lottery at 98 and dies the next day. Fuck, I been doing these numbers for years since i was about twenty4  and my fucking numbers due, my times coming, i can feel it, and for the first time since entering the building I stop looking at the barmaids fanny, is it wrong to stare this long at the lower regions of the lady. I do not think so when you wear something that blows kisses at me. Its not my time and I look to the clock and I hear cold-play in my head even though wacko Jacko and thriller make me want to drag my leg and her leg to the dance-floor. It is not anywhere near midnight but the floor is empty, the tables normally here where i am standing, have gone,  and she has done her eyes up. The mascara is shaped higher than normal. She has nice eyes, and a pair of pussy hugging leggings. So, the chairs and tables are missing and oh dear, there is a DJ in the mist. We have the dance-floor underfoot. The list of positives grows, and the stays or goes list becomes a walk on the wild side. And we have Two ice cold bottles of beer and I twist my way to the table, because i dont give a shit, i just hope nobody talks to me. I am twisting and turning so I can assess the damage limitations of what seems like a village fiesta about to start. Why so early I have no fucking idea and again, anything is possible I suppose. I am easily pleased. Music, Drink and women. What more do you need. She is walking towards us, blowing kisses, she cant be. Well she f__king is and I swig a gulp of my ice cold beer to erase the dry tongue and the nuns fanny feeling, and not look a total prick, IF, she is coming to us. I stop myself from wanting to turn round to see if there is a table behind me and check if i am being smiled at over my head, that would be to obvious and I wonder if she likes concrete. At least she can say she is seeing a rock for a man.

Its hard to concentrate when your sat at a table and a pussy just stops a foot from your face. I will look her in the face, right after I have finished inhaling the fragrances of sweetness that followed in the breeze and continue to drift my way. Dont you worry child, heavens got a plan for you and I wonder if shes clocked that I angled my right nostril to get a much fuller lung-full. I am lost for words and there is a first time for everything and I cant say i am bothered to be lost for words as i am into observing at the moment. My eyes feel like light puffy clouds drifting towards the storm, a sweet smelling storm. And she talks. And I am listening, and I am thinking, Lots, and i am not speaking and the fucking DJ is making it hard to hear her sweet little voice. Her nose is a little funny, she has the witches crook, but I am not perfect and that’s it really. I will let it go ,and I am not listening anymore, my friend can do that. I will do the watching. I want to see if she speaks to me, or blows me a kiss, anything. If her pussy doesn’t explode on me, I wonder if she will let me explode on her. You just cant beat the scent of a woman and, im so excited, as the pointer sisters come to life and i just cant hide it. I am sure the DJ is reading my mind, or we think alike. Its an 80s and a nineties night and the Disc Jockey looks old enough to play the years requested, and enjoy playing them. He is 3 hours early, he is set up and he is an eager beaver. He is eager, this guy is itching to chuck the vinyl on and scratch the fuck out of the evening, and i am looking at an eager beaver. And yes he is a disc jockey because he has f__king records, real records. A few needles later and a couple of beers, and he is set up, really setup, and it’s the weather girls and For the first time in history, its gonna start raining men, and they were right, we are here.

I cant help it, im looking at her fanny again and she is wiggling her little waist to the beat. The same beat im tapping my concrete boot to on the floor, Like a base bin. I smell talc, and it reminds me of someone that i used to know, and I can not see any kind of pantie shape, and my semi just went rigid. I think my Watch really has stopped and im caught now, trapped between the time and little miss talc and a group of 12 girls that just bowled in, like a  sweet bowl of sangria with the fruits floating amongst the ice and i am the straw that they are sucking on. Maybe it is just later than I think and I am caught up in a timewarp. This Dj is a Michael fan I think, and you can just beat it and I would beat her silly, with my willy. I can be such a child sometimes but i dont care. And all these others that keep turning up distracting me. And there is tits and fanny everywhere. Long hair, Short hair. Big boobs, Smaller boobs. Long legs, Short legs. Big girls, Skinnier girls. My girls. I am so pleased that my genetic make up, made me straight up. I have no idea whats going on, all I know is its getting busy. I really should leave but Pepsi decides on another beer as we still have to wait. I love waiting when the time is mine. The other girls already here are ok but, green eyes has me. Turn around bright eyes, lets see how hungry your bum is. I just wanna tell you how im feeling. And I remember when I used to have a cool denim shirt. Stone washed. I wont tell her my thoughts just yet, she might not be that kind of girl, just yet.  I like the deep end myself,  some prefer a shallow start and the armbands and all that shit that comes with it. Personally you could leave me stranded without paddles because i could float to the moon in this girls juice.

You go Kim, she has got Bette Davis eyes and she most definitely has not, Bette Davis eyes were big round and blue. Maybe she should let me take her home, what a great idea, keep her safe. They say the sun affects people, i think the sun has given me the horn, more than usual. I can hear them, i just can not see them yet, and in they bowl, the afternoon mens drinking brigade. So, look, in comparison the girls are in pretty good form and the childish boys will for sure bow down and puke first. I can feel it, you know when you just get that feeling, well Fuck, i just got a vibe and someones talking about me, my ears are on fire. All of a sudden i become nervous as this group is on a whole different level, but i will ignore it. I will.

It is not my fault that she stands with her sweet talc fanny that is tucked compactly into those red body hugging leggings, only inches from my face and i come to the conclusion the guys who just entered, clearly would like my chair and they are not looking at me, i relax. I am convinced that her ass in those leggings are the cause for all the directional looks and have produced bulls to the red flag. And i now notice that her top is yellow, she is the Spanish emblem and I get up out of my chair and i walk like an Egyptian to the bar. I stand at the bar a little further along and i want to see what they are looking at and i order two bottles from the other barmaid, She is definitely to young but i do like the glasses look. she looks older now and sometimes i forget you know, i stare. I just cant help it. I like to take in whats before me slowly and this means looking. I love looking, analysing, assumption, a  good old guesstimate. Funnily enough i am a keen lover of  maths, odds, calculations, and i just calculated that she has realised i have been looking for too long now. Quickly i turn around and i love Tom Jones and its not unusual to be loved by anyone and its not 80,s or 90,s i am thinking and i do not care and the cold droplets of water run down the bottle and its not unusual to have to have fun with anyone. shes been talking to us for a while now and i love they way she wiggles without realising that our heads are all moving to her ass movements like nodding dogs in the back of a car windscreen . And i just can not believe that after this beer we are leaving. I know the time is mine, but you can have it, i am happy here and it is filling rapidly and this glass is so cool wrapped inside my hot hand.

I remain at the bar holding both bottles now and i hope Pepsi likes warm beer because my hands are sweaty hot and the condensation will not win unless it can climb back up. My eyes drift and not into a drinking coma but a drift into perve street and its not my fault i love women and they love me right back. This girls boobs are huge and she wears a bra that is too small for those boobs and when she boogies i can see an erect nipple poking out from the top of the bra and almost nearly the top. Please,please, go on, bend a little more and let your tits hit the floor. More women arrive and offload by the bus load, and i know soon that i will offload too. This makes me think about the pearl factory i pass most days and i would dish out so many necklaces. for free of course. I  forget i look like a brick of shit and yet i feel like a million dollars and i see Pepsi looking for me, he must be dry mouthed.

The barmaid still speaks and i wish she would just shut up before i give her something to shut her up and i walk like an Egyptian back to the table. I am eager to sit on the face of fanny adams beaver and i hand the not so cold beer over and slip into my chair and i wish the hairs on my arms were longer, we would have touched each other then and the static electricity of two bodies producing a charge in the air. Now i know what her fanny reminds me of, or maybe the drinks overtaking the hunger but i swear her fanny looks like a smaller version of the bonnet of the original Volkswagen beetle. Most people would say they can park a bike in there but i think that makes the fanny a little bigger than it should be and i could park my tongue right in there, a slip of the tongue and i might even be able to reach her bum. I have a long tongue and my tongue has more energy than i do, luckily. I love my mouth muscle and sometimes i wish i could control it and, no i cant and i just asked her if i could dance with her and  i look like a bag of shit and of course she will say no. luckily i said it in my fastest spoken English and i get a blank response and thank fuck for different countries. She will understand later when i have washed and my shirt is crisp and i over splash the million and make your eyes water, i will make your eyes water somehow.

Everything happens so fast and the time goes so slow and if only i did not need to shower and wash my dick to within an inch of its life, i would stay. If i stayed my chances would be reduced but god loves a trier and i do not think Pepsi is happy his beer is luke warm and he looks at me, but does not say so, i guess this and i love mind games and i would just blame the girls for not rotating the fridge stock the lazy bitches. I hope that shes not that lazy in the sack, i love a girl with energy and command, nobody wants to sleep with a sack of spuds.

I still have not eaten and i can feel the few drinks already kicking in and my mind is losing control and i am feeling more like a panda who eats, shoots and leaves. Talking of which, i should leave now, the time is mine and i am trapped and i should not shoot as i am not in a scoring position, yet. Failure is not an option and solution wins every-time. I am so fucking hungry i feel like my throats been cut and my blue eyes are are watery and glazed and i am so pissed off i forgot my shades that i forget everyone can see me all to clearly now and Pepsi answers his phone and the very difficult to learn German lingo takes over. Now its my turn to to listen to Maria, yes her names maria and i would sack her if she worked for me. I know a song about maria but i cant very well sing it because i cant focus on the fucking words because Phil is singing and i wish it would rain down and cool my body heat down and make her top see-through, let there be a rain god.

Maria you aughta  see her ,go insane and out of your mind and i am singing out loud and i am singing to Maria and she is looking at me like i am a little crazy, and it turns out the wife of Pepsi is going be late bringing the car. The time is mine and no lift home just yet then, funnily enough i do not mind and i have plenty to keep me occupied with green eyes and i would fuck the barmaid but i would not want her for a girlfriend. She is a barmaid for one reason and one reason only, she is too fucking stupid to have got a real job and a barmaid is a job for chicks who love dicks in my book. I know this as i go to bars for this very reason, easy rides, just takes a while to get them drunk because they drink everyday, and i do not and i am a f__king light weight, and they should spend their tip money on me but no Jagermeister for me though, i really do turn into the devils spawn then. Those beers are done and now they sink quicker and easier and Pepsi is enjoying himself i can tell and his favourite group comes on, ACDC, i met this girl for the first time on a Saturday night but Saturday afternoon is good enough for me and can i sit next to you girl. Please can you just sit on my lap and i pat my leg to the song and i keep forgetting this D.J is early to the show and yes, you play what the fuck you like. If only she would not freak out if only i could just brush against her. When i wake up i hope i feel fine and your face is next to mine, if i could only reach you, now that would be a break-through.I am in my own little world and it really is not the Rosie place you see and all i hear is radio Ga-Ga and  am actually pissed off deep down that i missed my writing today and i thought the beer would help me forget and i thought these girls were good enough to make me forget but they cant and i can still feel it niggling away in the back of my mind and the show must go on.

We are leaving, just like that and the clocks running again and it is not my clock it is some other fuckers clock. The time is mine and talk about shit timing and i wave adios to Maria and hello shower, hello shit, and hello shampoo and now the game is on and i am in the hunting frame of mind and i cant hear the music anymore as i close the car door and i watch through the window as Maria disappears from view but not from memory. I have already got the iron in my hand and i can see my white shirt begging for a night out and that D.J better be playing the dedicated years when i get back or the highway to hell will be closer than he thinks. My boots are at the front door waiting, waiting like dogs do for the owner to come home from work, eager to jump onto my feet and eager to grace the dance-floor and show them how its really done.

The five minute drive to the house in the country is over and i return to the land of the living instead of the land of drunk easy women and five dogs come running to the gate like the animals they are and the dust cloud behind them stirs up like a f__king desert storm and i am drunk and this is one reason why my white shirts not a good idea but white is my colour and if one of them jumps up at me when i am showered and changed it might only be 4 dogs left. The gates open and the home security system is so f__king dumb it stands in front of the car and we can not pass, i am pleased i live in the country as it is a long way to come to burgle my house and these crazy dogs are not so crazy and i do not lock the front door on my house. It really is a fucking dogs life, eat, sleep and shit with a few barks thrown in for good luck and it sounds like a live heavy metal band thrashing out shit that is just thrown together and even a loud long toot of the horn, and i cant even hear the f__king horn but i got the horn and if i need to get out of the car heads will roll. One dog moves, two more arrive and if they want a fight i will give them one in a minute, the time is mine now, this is my time dogs so get the fuck out of the way.

I almost forgot that the sun still burns my back up and i have plenty of time to spare. Who the fuck invented spare time? wankers. There is no such thing as spare time and any-one with spare time is obviously a fucking job-seeker allowance kinda guy or girl, i am not sexist and yes, there are lazy bitches too. I remove my semi drunk ass from the car and the dogs surround me like i have been gone for ten years, barking, licking, sniffing, and now my concrete clothes provide as armour and i am on the floor rolling around  like the sixth member of the pack, i am an animal in an animal mood and i am top dog here and you cannot break me. My clothes are like a shield of steel. Fuck bat fink and bullets i have five soft as shit dogs, and i hope someones licking my balls by the end of the night, and i hope i fall off the couch too. Grateful that my roll in the dirt was worth it and the car passes in with no more dramas i drag my sorry licked ass off the floor and pat myself in an attempt to be clean. Even a dust down is not simple and i just fucking choke in the dust and i might die before i get some sweet honey. Who says smoking is bad for you, dust is worse. and i light my cigarette and the dirt clings firm to the slobber of the concrete t-shirt and if i am gonna die then i am gonna go out in a blaze of glory.

Fuck lung cancer i thrive in the face of danger. The people i live with go into the house and i go to the caravan. The caravan is my spaceship enterprise, actually no, its not, its a Millenium falcon and i am a star war not a fucking cling on. I gather my shit together and i tell my shirt to be patient and i take my shit and by shit i mean my jeans and my towel and i head across to the outdoor shower. I choose to stay in the caravan instead of the house, not because i am a pikey, i just dont like wasting my energy on mindless conversational shit and i am not a great lover of people, but, i am a great lover of pussy and i walk towards the house half naked and she thinks i cant see her out the corner of my eye, but i know shes watching and i find it funny that his pale ginger wife looks on at me all tanned. I am afraid, yes, ginger people do have sun repellent built in and i have a ginger beard when it grows, and that beard rejects the sun also.

I have my navy blue towel slung over my shoulder and my toothbrush hangs from my mouth and the minty taste from days gone by surfaces and without water is getting hotter and yes, i have to fucking launch a fhlem ball before i cant breathe anymore. I graunch one out and i lean into the launch and it does not work and i feel like one of the dogs as the spit sticks to my lip and strings back around and lands down my chest and i take a deep lung of oxygen in, only one lung, i save the other for cigarette smoke.

It rained a few weeks ago and my work-boots got wet, they got so fucking wet and i, stupid ass-hole that i am forgot to dry them out and now they smell and the sudden heat in a wet shoe is not a nice smell and the smell now glues to every pair of fucking socks i put into them and when i remove them the dead rat is ever more present and the dogs hump my shoes like its a play thing and I make my way to the out house where the generator is stored and i fire the petrol beast up and the water pump springs to life and i hope i do not run out of fucking petrol before the hot water makes it way to the shower head. I should check the petrol really but i am drunk-ish and i am smoking a big fucking joint and i do not wanna die just yet, and i shake the crazy dog from my boot and he rolls and I have unfinished business and it takes 3 minutes and the time is mine, not. The time is theirs and i am on the clock as this is nature in reality and there is no fucking electric cables delivering the modern day energy here. I could give bear grills a run for his money without drinking my own piss,  Nothing could be that bad in a survival attempt but i am thinking i could quite happily sip on Marias piss if she asked nice enough to piss the yellow river on my face and somewhere over the rainbow that pot of gold must be there and i keep my mind on the prize.

Forgetting for a small moment where i am, i stumble down the flag stones at the rear of the house and nearly break a fucking leg and an arm as i reach out all stoned to protect myself from the fall and dancing in a sling or a cast will not look cool unless i am in a M.J video. I make it to the bathroom in one piece in the end and i close the door and its a see through back door with a see through netting and i feel like i am on a nudist beach, in all my glory and i am still half dressed.

The beach style bathroom and nature look gives the impression i am taking a shower on the side of a public beach walk-off and i slam the tap handle up and i bang it to the right for the hot water to start trickling through and my mouth still burns and i take a gulp of the water from the tap that is delivered by the water guy and i can feel the fur coating my teeth and yes that is right there are no direct lines of any fucking sort here and i spit a squirt in the sink and i get undressed and that means finally removing my boots after 6 hours on the construction site and  i decide to open the window, even i cant stand the smell.

I forget to pull the shower curtain across and water pisses all over the floor and i do not give a fuck, i will later though, i will give lots of fucks and licks and kisses but for now the time is mine to get into the shower as the hot water has found its way to me. I bend over to pick up the shampoo and my arse hits the wall as i bend down and they nearly loose the operation handle to the tap and i thank the stars i am a few inches taller and i wish they would get a fucking rack for the shampoos and the gels so i have no need to bend and smash my head and i could suck myself off in here but i am not a homosexual and i will not even try this.

I squeeze the shampoo onto my semi bald-ish head and i think my trousers just walked out on their own and i just can not block out the smell coming from my work boots and i take some of the shampoo with my left hand and i wash my right foot like it had gang-green and then i change over and wash the left with the right and after i wash my hands like i am in a hospital. I wish i had that alcohol hand wash here so i could burn my feet off. I feel like a lama in a lions headlock about to be rescued by crazy baboons who do not wear shoes and still smell better than i do and i took to long washing my feet and the soap is running in my eyes and i cant see no more. I thank fuck i am in a small square room and the walls are only inches away from me and i can reach out and hold on for my life and i wonder how many more times i could kill myself again today and then i remember that i am the devil and you cant kill the devil you can only dance in his fire, if you could i would get all the fucking time i need then.

I am getting older by the second and i still cant see past my nose and i rub my eyes like a twat because thats called fucking reaction and the stinging is worse and i really should stay in tonight but i cant and i have a squint and a blurred vision and i cant reach for the towel and i do not want to move. If i move i might slip, crack my head. anything is possible in my fucking world and i do not want the ambulance man laughing at the blind dead guy in the shower with a soapy head, fuck you Mr ambulance man, it is not my number yet.

my vision comes back slowly and while i was blinded my cock must of shrunk, my head is dipped and i stare at the penis and i wonder if this really is my dick and the soap causes confusion and i can not work out what it is that is wrong, and phew, relief, the pubic hair growth just hit me, its out of control and it has really been that long since i last trimmed and the hair is so long its made my dick look small and i want my manhood looking its best for Maria. I want my cock shinny and large like a soldier going into battle and fuck, now i must become a pubic hairdresser and i find their fingernail scissors by the edge of the sink and i go to town on the untidy bush and i feel like Edward fucking scissor hands and i am relieved when my cock returns to its glorious size and i did not snip my man-hood by accident and fuck the plughole full of my curly brillo hairs and fuck that its blocked and fuck that its filling the tray with delivered water and fuck that the trimmings are sticking to my clean feet like socks and i have a winter coat from the ankle down but i do not care, my dicks back.

I am happy my feet are in a mini pool of pubic water with soap and hair comforting them and caressing them and the bubbles are bursting and i plead with the bubbles, do not burst i say, cleanse these heated trench feet and i lift my head and i want the jets of water on my face and they miss and they hit my helmet and the warmth around my clean dick just brings on the stiff along with the sting and now i am rigid and i hope Maria is not frigid and i hope shes the girl who gives it up on the first night because i fucking hate these girls who want to drag it out and i grab the shower gel again and i squirt the cold liquid until i have a layer of lubricant on my cock and i use my right hand and not my left because i like the fact it feels like someone else is wanking me off.

I do hope maria does not mind me following her home after the disco, i like a nice walk to clear my head after a dance and i hope she thinks its a coincidence and there is no better way to wash your crown jewels than with a good old fashioned wank with a girl in mind and a soapy hand and a soapy eye working it until i shoot my load all over the wall in front of me and i quickly wash the tiles off and watch the spunk heading towards the mini pubic pond below.

I turn off the tap and i jump clear of the swimmers and they continue swimming as the water does not drain as fast as it should due to the pubic blockage in the trap.I think about leaving it for a minute while i dry my body off, but no, i do not, i pull the hair clear and make a pile in the corner of the shower tray and wait for the white scummy water to vanish. I feel like a new man with my cleansed balls and trimmed hair and i wash the scissors off and i put them back right in the same exact position, i hope they were for nails and only nails. I put my towel over my head and begin to dry myself and i breathe in the towel in the hope of a fresh laundry smell, but no, i get the forest fire scent that has gathered and clung from my log burner and i am a bonfire now, a burned out fucking fire and i am so fucking tired, tired of waiting and i want my time to be now, this is my time and finally i am dry.

I am not a happy dry but i am dry and i pull on my socks before my jeans and i do this so my jeans slide over my feet without clamming to my damp feet and i love the word damp and i imagine Maria and i imagine Marias damp pussy and me licking it like a cat licks the cream from its bowl. I made this mistake before and i have lost count just how many times i should have died by now and if i were a cat i would be so fucking grateful for those lives, but i am not a fucking cat and curiosity killed the cat and i am the devil and you cant kill me so easy so fuck you pussy cat, i win.

Bollocks and shit, i forgot my boots and i have to travel along the gravel in my socks and i have to turn the generator off and there is dog shit all over the place and i need to save fucking petrol, save fucking water and dodge the shit before i get a sock full. I am a hippy, and i am bear and i feel much lighter now and i am ready for a dance but i still have time to wait and i do not want to get there too early and ruin myself too quickly. I make it back to the caravan and with the generator switched off we are down to the solar panels and the batteries here never seem to charge and i wonder if we are gonna have a grid meltdown when i plug the iron in, well i do not give a fuck, my shirt comes first, my white shirt that Maria will look on in astonishment and she will think another woman ironed this as it is perfectly crisp and crease free.

The music is on and the blue-tooth speaker is basing out and bad boys, what you gonna do, can be heard from the village and the iron is on and the surge of currency dims the light a minute and then comes back up and if they see the lights dip then i am in the shit as an iron is a no go here, the creased up look is all you get here unless you are me and do not fucking care. It takes me twenty minutes to iron my shirt and there is not a fucking crease in it and i have listened to queens breakthrough and zz tops sharp dressed man and i will be sharp tonight, you can bet your arse. I think of Marias peach of an arse as i hang my Calvin up and sit back in the computer chair and my head gently rests on the back of the chair and the time is mine and finally i relax with Maria on my mind.

What the fuck is going on, i am confused and it is dark and it is two 07 am and i just wake up and fuck fuck fuck, i missed the party. i missed Marias titties and all the other girls tits too. My shirt looks like its crying as i crawl half asleep into bed and hit the light with my fist.

Good fucking night.                                                                                                              


Service with a Rosie smile

Being a resident in Palma De Mallorca during the summer can be a very very stressful time indeed. Every one you come across is wearing the same shades, you know the shades they wear. The shades that allow time and motion to slow to nothing. Space walkers arrive and my high speed does not gel with the camera happy snapper that is in no hurry. I have a lot of land to cover and not a lot of time to cover it and this is when i had a really smart idea, get a moped.

The moped would be ideal for zipping  in and out between the cars, no more stuck in traffic before work, home earlier, more time on the blog, yes i did say blog. The list of positives goes on, fuel consumption, sun, speed, cheaper insurance and 76km  for 2 litres was the winning answer.

Would you believe that i actually did do what i just said and i got off my arse, the decision was made. Next thing you know i am 1 week earlier now and one day and i am in the shop which is full of Vespas and various others and i ask to see the sale bikes.

The guy looks confused, looks at me confused, i look at him confused and then i look around the shop kick myself because for a minute i thought i was in a scooter shop not a car lot.

Next thing you know, my Spanish is not so bad and this guy speaks fluent English after all and the look is not confusion at all. the look is more ohh shit, that kinda look. he tells me he got some bikes but these bikes are at the other shop and will need to be prepped for my sale. no Problem i said, you change the papers over, i will pay a holding fee and when can i pick it up i said.

Upon leaving the shop it was agreed that next saturday( yesterday) was the pick up time. Perfect i thought to my-self, just in-time for the  Easter bunny and the increase in tourists. I can really get stuck into the blog then and keep it as live as long as my life would allow me.

Mid-way through the week i receive a call, from the shop, they are ever  so sorry but Sunday is the new scheduled pick up. im not too happy but hey ho whats one more day.

Yesterday while i was jumping over rocks i found myself not far from the scooter sales place where i paid the deposit. And me, being me would like to speak to the guy, just to make sure that we are on the same page.

A swing by the shop was a good idea as i am now confronted by a different man from last week. the procedures are done and the hellos are said and they now know who i am and what i want.

Now what i want is simple, very simple. I want, one man with a cell to make a decision. That one man, can surely, in a week, do as he said, and if not just give me a time and a date and mean it.

It was never going to be ready on Sunday either, the lying tossers. But i had come this far and i was willing to see it out now, if only for the entertainment factor.

I am an extremely busy man and i cannot stand people wasting my time, so all im asking is, think about it before you answer, you mess my plans up.

Life is Rosie, smash a hammer into the kind button, and now the question is …………… how will Joe end up ??????bike or……… no bike.

gotta keep on top of your rocks, this is Joe, rocking out.

Wi-Fi ………….

Good evening, i thought id finish the week off with a rant. Now, i live in the forest and recently i discovered that because i generally move around a little bit, i could have a new kind of system that does not require a landline. nobody needs landlines anymore anyway. So there i am, having a little think about it. I see in full clarity that its wise to accept, i spend a fair amount charging my megasgofly, and they do fly. The reception is not so good here so i accepted the option of a portable receiver, fantastich. …… that was a month ago. Yes, i have been patient and in the time waiting i have continued to secure the the best deal i can, while i wait, still.

Tick-Tock, Tick- Tock, . Ok, so, now my caravan is too far away from the main house of the friends i have made that have allowed me to use there land for a while. This is a reason why i need a separate connection, all to myself because im greedy……….superstar internet speeds ……….here we come.

This generally means that if i work Monday through Friday not finishing until 5 and they as a company finish at 4, we gonna have a problem then. Now i might be mistaken for thinking that this time zone is an important time for business but i might be wrong. In the real world the population use these guides so when i arrive home from work at 5ish i can be there as instructed………..impossible……. so i arrange someone to be there for me.

i know i was a naughty boy but all i want is internet….. continually……. no cock ups…….. simple

My work is finished for the week, its Easter, i got internet……..thats the most important, the wi-fi………..Life is surely Rosie.

The wait is over, the gates to the drive open up, but the gradual progress along the gravel path revealed not one sign of a cable. This was when my rose colour glasses began to crack, but i still had faith that this engineer actually covered the cable and completed the task in a professional manor.

My glasses shatter into a million fragments, disintegrated, along with the wi-fi as i notice that the tech took down the owners provider dish to the house and replaced it. They went and put mine in its place.

so not only do i not have, what i am now paying for, i am paying for it for someone else.

go figure eh…….. anyway, it could be worse, i could be dead.

Life is Rosie…… smile, be kind…………. on-wards and up-wards.

Joe blunt, jumping on a rock………….. Bon Finde


Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago, she knew i was trouble as soon as i walked in. I have been on the run (from myself) so long, they cant find me and when the chemicals leave my body, there could have been many a time they might find me in a hotel lobby. Problem is that the world drags me down, and the heads that turn, make my back burn, but its the sparkle in her eye that keeps me alive. I am not a perfect person, there is many things i wish i did not do, but i continued learning, i never meant to do those things to you. There is something i have to say before i go, that i just want you to know, i found a reason for me, to change who i used to be and start over new…….


And that reason is you my Red Maserati……………Joe Blunt……… over and out, from the rock…………Life is getting more rosy by the minute.

ok, so look.

I am in the forest where i have been residing for the previous 5 months and as i peek over the top of the four screens that are changing my life the trees dance in the wind. i am a million miles away from civilisation, and the caravan has the gentle music of a nineteen88 chart toppers playlist in the background. seriously, i am turning into a nerd thanks to a series of highly unexpected changes in my life. The rain is looming overhead and i can hear the occasional droplets hitting the warmth of the steel tube and disintegrate. This estufa has has provided the warmth in my caravan and often leaves me feeling sleepy due to the uncontrollable rise and fall of the heat, no thermostat here i am afraid.

I have always been a bit of a reader and to carry a book is comfort for me, the pages the smell of the book and the scraps of paper i used as bookmarks with my own notes on. i turned to writing about 8 months in books as my laptop was smashed and my life with it. Paper and pen it was to be.

The few months passed, writing and drawing only by hand, never leaving my books out of my sight… it was all i had.

uncertainty was never far away and bread became the cheapest way of survival on the pittance i had left to my name……

My love for the words has grown and grown and the over the last six months or so the accumulation of  fifteen to 20 chapters of a book has started to take place and the battle continues to prepare the final manuscript for what i hope will become the most dramatic and unexpected change in my life.

In the meantime, bread rolls and eggs will keep this engine going………. Life is ever so Rosie.

Here we go again

Soon, very soon, the cobwebs will be blown from thousands of bars, restaurants and rental cars. The sounds of multiple aircraft are already increasing, and the birds are chirping. Summer is looming, gone are the six lazy months of the close season, and all the hard work begins again. Mallorca…… serving the tourist division. I see the quiet streets gather speed and the flow of traffic is no longer smooth.

Rental cars tear around the towns from a fiat shoe-box to, a mustang, not forgetting the health and safety certified family size peddle cars jamming up the roads.

This island is a very busy island, and that includes busy bodies as well……. anyway you need a course here on how to avoid the million five wide cycle units that seem to dominate this beautiful place. so just take care not to take a few out in the mountains.

Along with bicycles, motorbikes, mopeds,taxis,busses, coaches, Skateboards, Hover-boards, roller-bladers ……..niceeeeee. stray cats and dogs, mountain bikers, the list goes on people……………..take care and good luck.

and most importantly here is…….. anything goes……. this is my definition of a bumper ok

A bumper is something intended for an accidental bump, correct, i said accidental.

you can forgive that.

But, with my very own eyes i witnessed the home grown talent here and it turns out the bumpers are not for accidental use. Here bumping is welcomed with open arms. If you dont bump your car then your a blunt, and the community frowns upon you………………. failed in their greatest achievement so far in life, bumping three times.

its honestly such a beautiful sight to see a beaten up piece a s><? car, pull up right next to the beautiful Audi and be fully aware that they will clearly not fit. The fast glance around settles the decision, no other spaces available. Yes you are correct, you now have five cars unable to get out and some damage along the way, but hey ho, s><? happens. There is no need to panic, once you have seen it a few times it becomes the norm, just brush it off or take a photo like i do.

so thats the roads covered then, hope you all getting the picture. gotta love the summer.

See you in a few days everyone.

Changes and faith

The man who feels lost, may walk alone.

But, towards the two pin pricks of light he sees,

he will keep digging, because he believes.

As the pin pricks of light begin to grow,

the darkness lifts, to reveal the wolf beyond the mist.

No matter how many guesses as to what the lights could be,

how very wrong was he to see,

the vision before him, was to be his security,

and from the darkness i was pulled.