Sunday, 12 June 2011


We begin as a blank canvas,
filled only with the womb

Then we are coloured, painting
every site, choice, tune

All the while though, the blank canvas
rests beneath frame and form

terrified that its meaningless
could render pointless being born

why therefore strive to paint
on nought but voided space...

from which we're born
and will return

to death without a trace

Intelligent Life

I bought a copy of Intelligent Life magazine last week on a train ride to Birmingham for a work meeting - the type of high brow stuff that I would never usually bother wasting money on - and found myself LOVING it, as in every single article.

Literature, art, dance, travel, wine (to some extent), global issues, multi culturalism...while I've always had a general interest in such things, it dawned on me in reading the articles that these are things that I'm not only genuinely interested in, but which are the types of things that colour my enjoyment and experience of life.

Whats more, I realised, gulp, that I probably fall into a '30s something' readership - which the editors intentionally aimed at. And I found myself somehow comforted that (despite my strong sense of independence), I do perhaps 'belong' to some demographic group of society, with tastes and interests that the editors know how to feed and fulfill through their cleverly selected topics and discussions.

I've always been one to forge my own path, with the will to be unique in such things as career path, spirituality, literature, selection of girlfriends, etcetera. Combine this with a usually short attention span when it comes to article ridden lifestyle magazines, and perhaps you will understand why I was so surprised - in a good way, to find a magazine which highly appeals to my interests in EVERY single article.

Hmmm, maybe I do have a more 'normal' or at least 'fitting' role in this society than I had previously thought.

Sunday, 5 June 2011



I dreamt last night that there was a pet goose, which loved having hits head scratched. So much so that it kept rubbing its head against my hand, increasingly frantic until it became a bit scary.

Strange as I had a dream just a few months back, much more disturbing though, that a goose appeared on the road in front of the car I was in (either driving or in the passenger seat). The goose was distressed, having been damaged by something - probably a previous car - and it was flapping its wings looking at us through the windscreen obviously crying for help and wanting us to get out of the car and help it. However, its extreme agitation, and almost human like way that it was communicating with us seemed frightening - what would happen if I got out of the car? So I sat in the car and watched it while it desperately tried to beckon us out. Strange.