Well, have’nt been doing much on this page for a while & autumn is already here. Autumn is my favourite season with winter a close second. For some reason, I enjoy the darker mornings, the cooler weather & of course, like most people- the wonderful colours in the falling leaves.
Also, I think it is the perfect time to publish an oversized picture on a blog (with an orange autumn moon that has been cropped out of frame) & say “bottom” three times in a row: “bottom bottom bottom” =(ancient japanese hai-ku)

Today’s weather: cloudy with scattered showers & people wearing hats underneath umbrellas- (to be sure, I think an extra umbrella should be added on top to keep the first one dry).
(Paris Street; Rainy Day: Gustave Caillebotte 1877)

I spy with my little eye something beginning with C…

No, it’s not ‘Cat’- don’t let the title fool you. There IS a furry mammal in the corner of my eye at the moment, but I’m looking at the screen while typing so you could’nt really say I’m looking at it much less ’spying’ on it – & anyway, if ever I took it upon myself to spy on something beginning with C like a Cat- it would be with my average, not little eye & it would’nt be this particular flea-bag who doesn’t belong to me nor this Computer which is also someone else’s nor that railway bridge out there which does’nt begin with C but I’m talking ‘Crap’ which does, so there. Also, unless I’m mistaken, I think most spies have alot better & more important things to do than to stare at domestic animals. When was the last time James Bond embarked on ‘operation kitty’s ringpiece’?..Never! It does’nt happen (that just happens to be the part of feline anatomy I am most confronted with as they run away from this stranger in their home). One is called Colette & the other is called Lol (which I’m guessing is short for Lolita or something because ‘LOL’ is not what first springs to mind when she’s left a huge leak on the floor or a months worth of hairs on your trousers) Anyway, they both stink & are looking to me for food until their ‘parents’ get back from Spain. I have’nt seen either of the cat’s resumés but I think ‘we stink’ should feature prominently.

For several split seconds during the crucial world cup football match between France & Spain last night- I was almost moved. As was the guy I was standing next to. We were moved as frenchmen in a well…moving way- that is to say when excitement got the better of us & personal space was invaded- we moved. To begin with, things were looking bad for France as they were 1-0 down, & for a moment I was about to conveniently change back into an England supporter (I support both. Mostly when it suits me). Along with the big screen tv, there was an old piece of shit on the other side of the bar that crackled & cut out everytime the coffee machine was used. So, those of us watching on that side of the bar would throw the odd evil at potential coffee drinkers. Plus, there was a slight delay between each tv, so when arms were thrown in the air it was like a small mexican wave from one side to the other. Anyway, things later picked up for the french after a splendid goal from Ribery & the atmosphere was one of communion where everyone is an expert. France won 3-1 & everyone poured out into the street (followed by those who were watching on the other set) shouting & waving at the passing traffic that honked back. England are also still in the competition. Either way, if France or England win their next games I’ll be happy. If not, there’s always Italy I suppose or world championship tiddly winks.

Was at a loss last night & was frantically looking for something good to watch on the box. My tv is ancient & I hardly ever watch it- but I felt like ’switching off’ so I turned it on. Finally, exasperated by the same old spoon fed tripe that is clogging up the airwaves, I decided to ditch the tv for the comp & turn to the reliable value that is Bill Hicks. By that point I did’nt care if I was looking at a tiny window in the corner of the screen- the content was well worth the effort & reconciled me with my brain in the process. So, I watched a few of the late Bill Hick’s excellent sketches- enjoying & feeling privileged to watch at the touch of a button. The last one I watched held something of a surprise though which had nothing to do with Hick’s comedic stylings. We’re talking subliminal, cryptic, freaky shit here..the sketch is drawing to a close & Bill is basking in the audience’s reactions- when suddenly & very briefly, this face fades in & is superimposed on the scene accompanied by what sounded like crickets on acid. The face was lit from below like something from a classic horror movie & from the short time it flashed up on the screen,-I could also make out completely black eyes (like the contacts that Marylin Manson might wear). I went back to see if I had imagined this- but the face reappeared again at the same moment. On further inspection, the overly gothic quality of this image reassured me that this vid must have been messed about with by some bored websurfing goth kid. My initial reaction was then replaced by annoyance- ghost or no ghost- how dare someone interrupt the Hickster! Go & haunt someone who appreciates it. (oh well, it sparked a blog entry anyway)

http://youtube.com/watch?v=ZwSvO_-mG0U&search=Bill%20hicks

I’m beginning to think I have an inverted Midas touch when it comes to household chores-everything I touch turns to shit. This is a bit of a pain as it only adds to the backlog of stuff to clean up. A case in point is- the pure genius of mopping a floor, only to find you have mopped yourself into a corner & either have to exercise your long jumping skills to get back to the door, or walk over what you’ve just cleaned with your filthy feet. But then,-a brilliant idea- remove the shoes & socks & tiptoe gracefully back to dry land. So you launch yourself into a domestic swanlake- only to have the magic cruelly cut short by the agressive floor in the form of a nice splinter. There is no blood, but it hurts. So, you decide to improvise a bit of surgery on your foot. The offending item is removed but you seemed to have butchered your sole in the process- & now there is blood & enough disinfecting liquid on the freshly cleaned floor to bring a tear to your eye. Maybe things would be less dangerous if I somehow suspended the mop & moved the floor underneath it..Would have to employ a few other stupid people to help though..Reminds me of that old joke: “how many ‘Anthonys’ does it take to change a lightbulb? – 100 : 1 to hold the lightbulb & 99 to turn the ceiling.” or alternately- “none- a self help group would be set up called ‘coping with darkness’ “
It’s funny what you find amusing when you have half a tree stuck in your foot.

This spring, as every year- the atmosphere is that of new beginnings, natures awakening,skin exposing, blind optimism, the birds are singing, tweet bloody tweet. I know, I’m a miserable bastard- but at least that way if I get flattened by a falling piano today- I won’t be surprised.
There’s a stronger percentage of smiling going on,-even the guy who asked me for some change yesterday (as I had literally put one foot out the front door) had a smile on his face.- Maybe in a strange way, my morning scowl made me more approachable to the poor sod- who was used to an army of indifferent grinners. To be honest, he did’nt give me any time to be indifferent- I had barely woken up- at that point, he could have tried his luck & asked me for the shirt off my back. Anyway, I started the day feeling smug & charitable.
With the spring, the street is rapidly becoming a makeshift catwalk for all those self absorbed charm-testers. The romantic gaze into the distance is a hazardous exercise in Paris- as, even if the climate is changing-there’s still as much dog muck on the ground. Seriously, on some days- I feel I could qualify for an olympic slalom event. A few years back, you could see specially employed people on ’sucker’ motorbikes who would remove the stuff with the nonchalence of a bazooker wielding film star. Now, they are nowhere to be seen.. As you can gather, there’s been a digital camera in my life- an aquaintance has one & we’ve been playing around with it. I still have my dad’s traditional Minolta camera & I’ve always entertained the idea of doing some ’serious’ photography but never really get round to it. I must say though, even if there’s the ‘warmth’ argument etc in comparison with digital,-I’m really impressed by the quality of the digital camera & possibilities of something so portable- might get one. As I’m writing- a cloud has just covered up the sun- Ha! Bah-humbug! Bring on the falling pianos – spring, who needs it!? >piano falls on head.

Everyone has problems & a certain amount of mental anguish, which is amplified if they are physically unfit or in bad health.-That is why it is so unfair, when individuals are struck down, through no fault of their own with an illness, this ultimately has a dramatic effect on their mental health & they have to fight on both fronts, while also dealing with the outside world. It also works the other way round, in the sense that someone’s fragile mental state can profoundly effect them physically-they are trapped inside their heads & have little awareness of their physical envelope.I guess that’s what’s known as ‘depression’.(>insert dancing poodles here-Yay! partytime!!)
Increasingly, I’ve been asking myself-what is mental health? Where do you draw the line? It’s hard to pinpoint in this current climate of regression-the idiots who govern us, rampant fundamentalism, complete disregard for the environment. Of course on a human scale-things can just happen in the brain-resulting in a mental illness, or people are born with a condition. But for the most part, I think people who may be mentally ill today,-initially retreated ‘inside their minds’ as a result of external aggression, physical or otherwise. In my experience, extreme physical pain & mental tourment at an early age can set a path and alter your ‘intended’ personality forever. Then it’s up to you to pick up the pieces & process your experiences-& eventually give something back to the world. I’m probably stating the obvious & the very fact that I’m pondering on the nature of mental health in the first place, may be testament to my being ‘crackers’. I don’t know, why am I writing this? Why do I constantly feel the need to justify my existence?-I know for one thing, many of us are starved of affection & if you don’t go the extra mile & take the step towards others- noone will come towards you. We should stop being so hard on ourselves & just concentrate on breathing, moving, listening, laughing, smelling, running,dancing- and the odd funny walk with a hairy fish-to make those who impose labels on us think they are right!

Lately, I’ve been noticing that when I’m exhausted -I have trouble sleeping & when I’m in good shape- it is short lived and I have this uncontrolable urge to collapse & go to sleep. I dunno, – it might be a form of narcolepsy or something phsycological or both. It’s really starting to piss me off. Right now, it seems that the only thing that can get me out of this cycle where I feel like my brain is out to lunch- is running on a regular basis,- so maybe it’s a cardio thing. I have my suspicions, but I’m afraid to go and see a doctor. I will though, because it’s really starting to handicap me in alot of ways & making me self concious. Yes, running & physical exercise seems to be the immediate & cheapest solution on hand to ‘amplify’ myself & break through the fog. I can’t expect to get anywhere in the rat race if I’m falling asleep:
“So what do you think Anthony?” …..”zzzzzzzzzzzzz”

These sorts of street facades you may come accross in every major city.- In Paris, London, New York,- & in this particular example- Amsterdam: ‘Live f***ing show’ indeed.- How sad, I think. Such sexual misery in the world. Supply & demand- it seems that your average urban single male in search of something to fill ‘the void’ that lingers in his mind after a day’s work has two choices- the church or Pornography.
Both take your mind hostage in my opinion- & feed off each other in a continuous ping pong match.
& when your soul has been sufficiently destroyed & tired- You can always forget & escape through drinking & other such artificial paradise.
I am by no means a puritan & am all too aware that us humans have animal instincts that are constantly bubbling under the surface- I find it fascinating how the need for ‘love’ & affection or whatever it’s called can so easily slide into a specific base physical craving-simply because some virtual tart has tittilated us in a film, advertisement etc. Animal instinct is perfectly natural & healthy,- but on your own terms. ‘Post coitum= animale triste’ – when the body has been satisfied, the ’soul’ has to come back as quickly as possible & that is not very easy if you drown yourself in artificial stimulae- Unless you’re a complete anarchist- u still need someone ‘up there’ sailing the ship. Animals have instinct as do we- & it is as much about survival than fucking! -Right that’s enough bollocks for today> I need to get laid!