Poem: iWish My Brain Was Like My iPod

iWish my brain was like my iPod,
Designed by Jonny Ive,
Everything stored in memory,
Keeping me alive,
iCould plug my brain in,
To sync with something new,
If it turned out not quite right,
I’d simply click Undo.
If my brain was like my iPod,
I could Pause and Play,
Skip to find the bits I like,
And let the rest just fade away.
If my brain was like my iPod,
All scuffed up and abused,
It surely is the off function,
That would be most often used.

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“I Took a What in Your Tuba..” Robin Williams – A Tribute

I’m not usually one to get emotional over the loss of a celebrity. Having never met them my reaction is usually a “Oh no thats such a shame” today was different.
Today I am genuinely saddened like a part of my early teenage years has died. Robin Williams Live at the Met remains an often quoted reference from that time between my friend and I. The CD of the recording itself a story, brought, lost, found, lent out, lost, dodgy MP3 copy made, CD repurchased.

Everything about that performance makes me laugh now as it did for the first few times I listened amongst friends. It brings me a comfort that even the most masterful performances of Hicks and Pryor can’t touch. It was educational, made me research to understand the sections on American politics in the mid 80’s. Above all this performance oozed energy and showmanship like I’d never heard before.

Not being a particular film buff I have not seen too many of his screen performances. (I will rectify this in the coming months) But again those I have, have memories attached to them. I saw Mrs Doubtfire at the cinema after a sleepless sleepover night.My friend dozed off during the trailers at the beginning with a big tub of popcorn balanced in his lap. When the movie began he woke with a start showering the two rows in front of us with popcorn. Williams delivered a touching comic performance, I can’t imagine any other actor delivering given the somewhat creepy “man dresses as woman to gain access to home” story.

Good Morning Vietnam, again an education. Being a teenage Brit knowledge of the Vietnam conflict was at the point of first watching this was very limited. The humour and warmth of Williams drew me in and his ability to switch from mapcap high energy comedy to genuine emotion is something that other most other actors can only dream of. This film was the very first DVD I purchased.

The last performance I caught was his guest appearance on Louie. Where he appeared as himself and joined Louie at a funeral where they were the only two mourners. The two characters decided to search to find people who loved the deceased. No such search will be required for Robin Williams who will be so sadly missed. Rest in Peace.

Robin Williams Canada.jpg
Robin Williams Canada“. Licensed under Wikimedia Commons.

Independence Day to Day

That is what is all comes down to, from a very early age everything was geared to being or becoming more independent. To your average Joe or Jane this means, getting a job, getting enough cash to move out from your parents house. To a disabled person however this independence can mean something most of the able bodied world takes for granted, like dressing yourself for example.

I am lucky I suppose my disability is by the standards of many quite mild, so I am able to function and live a “normal” life. I have a job, a handful of good friends, family and I live alone in my house where I pay full rent and have no assistance at all.

So as independent as one gets.

This year I have found I have become less mobile. Things are starting to hurt, or even worse just not work in the way of which I have become accustomed. (I’m not talking about issues that Viagra can fix here either) So where do I turn? Again the average Joe or Jane in the street seems to be under the impression that the disabled are either paralympians capable of bounding over buildings like the bionic man or so disabled that they cannot possibly function and have all the help and money to enable them to live out their days in comfort.

So in the view of the outsider, disabled people either, A don’t need more help or B have all the help they need.

Let me add my C to that list of options.

From a early age I was taught and pushed to be as independent as possible, to do things myself. This has brought me opportunities and allowed me to meet many wonderful people but it’s made me very single minded and set in my ways at at times a bastard to live with or be around. I haven’t needed help, so I have been off the radar. No huge social services file, no massive cash hand out that means I don’t have to work, no case worker I can ring up and get someone to help me.

In order for me to get assistance for anything, I have to be referred by a GP. The GP probably knows less than me about my disability and I have to wait along with everyone else to receive treatment from a guy who specialises in sporting injury. My sporting days are long gone!

Independence has for the most part been a very good thing for me. I just wish someone would have told me to ramp it back a little so that it would be easy to get support I need now. It seems the more you do, the less is offered, which when you think about it is very wrong. Only option to keep on going until you drop.

Still Happy 4th of July America from the old foe across the pond.

Lincoln Memorial July 4th 1.jpg
Lincoln Memorial July 4th 1” by J.W.Photography from AnnapolisFlickr. Licensed under Wikimedia Commons.

Poem: Canary

Every year the chillers break,
Every year us workers bake,
Yes it is a sweaty mess,
On the corporate ladder to success,
It’s hard to have blue sky thoughts,
When you are sitting in your boxer shorts,
Sweaty arms, sweaty back,
Sweaty balls, sweaty crack,
Windows you can’t open or close,
Farts from the 80’s all in your nose,
It’s like this throughout the seasons,
Wash everything for hygiene reasons,
Melting hot Summer,
Drafts in the Fall,
Frostbite in Winter,
Spring never happens at all,
Corporate patsies, uniform lines,
Swear they had it better down the mines,
You think I’m joking? Take back what I said?
We had a Canary here. It’s definitely dead.

Part of the WordPress Daily Post: Seasonal Scents

Rama-ramama-argh

I am far from being a professional writer. Some people actually like what I write, which continues to amaze me. I do favour the macabre, my stories often featuring a gruesome end for one of many of my characters. I am no good at fantasy, story wise of course give me a beautiful american, Karen Gillan a Nun’s outfit and a stick of Celery and I can fantasise all day!

Rollerblading nuns
Sex on wheels.. no?
I digress I have been challenged to write different genres, sci-fi and more recently romance. Now I class myself as a romantic kinda guy, the candles, moonlight, diamonds and poetic serenades have all played a part in my life. But writing romance for me is proving very difficult.

OK so it’s going to be published here. So I try therefore to keep it under 1000 words, otherwise no-one will read it. So that gives me a thousand words to establish at least two likeable (a stretch for me) characters who you dear reader will be championing, wondering will they, won’t they, but knowing that they will for it is a Romance after all. Believable dialog is also required along with  some kind of tension that allows me to twist and turn.

Trouble is, everything I have tried so far is cliché central. “She looked deep into his steely grey eyes and trembled” OK not quite but close. I don’t want trembling in my story, not lips or knees (I have enough trouble standing as it is) I want strong characters. It’s too easy to write about a bewildered woman who cannot exist without a man. I don’t believe these women actually exist (if they do my email is in the about section.. just saying)

I know these stories are supposed to pander to a fantasy. A fantasy where the dragons and wizards are replaced with perfect men who’s farts smell of roses and has baby soft skin with the talent for fucking, sorry “making love” that rivals Neymars skills with a football. The rose tinted quest continues.

Fiction: A Warm Welcome

Welcome to my house. It’s not much but I’ve lived here as long as I can remember, it has a nice garden Don’t you think? Come in why don’t you, I am pleased to see you. Although it has to be said I’m not sure why you are here. But the more the merrier.

I like visitors, well most of the time. They stop me getting bored, each visitor brings a thousand stories, stories which they don’t even know they are telling. I am an excellent reader of body language and behaviour, I find it very useful it helps me get what I want. Not that I want for much, everything is here. My family, refreshment and a comfy place to lay my head. Anything else is just fluff don’t ya think?

I see you walked here. I am very active. Well you have to be, I don’t want to get fat. That happened to a friend of mine. They put him on a diet his food was horrible! I like to run out in the sunshine, feel the breeze against my face. You should come along sometime, you’ll really enjoy it. Although those shoes don’t seem like running shoes to me. Maybe another day?

The others? Oh yes follow me. They are in the kitchen with all the wonderful food, Can you smell it? Isn’t it amazing? It really makes my mouth water. You can have whatever you want. I’ve already eaten but if you want to save some for me It won’t get wasted.

I’ll leave you to introduce yourself to the others, shake hands and such things. I’ve always found that a strange custom. In my experience I’ve found you can learn so much about new friends in other ways. Handshakes are boring, although I have been told that my handshaking skills are very good. People seem to like them.

You’ll have to excuse me. I am quite tired now after greeting everyone. I am going to go and lie down. Just call me though and I’ll come running. I am so very pleased you are all here. After you have had your food and I’ve had a little snooze, how about I show you the garden. It’s my favourite place in the whole wide world. As we are the best of friends maybe you can throw my favourite ball just a few times.

I might even bring it back. But only after I chewed it.

By the road in Åmotsdal (3845346438)

Birthdays: Women and Children only

If it’s your birthday today, Happy Birthday from all of us here at SudoOne. (Just me then) I hope you get all the gifts you want and a cake especially for you. Unless you are a male over the age of 18. In which case, happy birthday mate. I haven’t got you anything because I’m not your Mum. If you are lucky I might buy you a pint. Men don’t do birthdays.

The male arrangement for birthdays.

I buy a beer, pie or coffee, if birthdays are mentioned at all. If not, all the men I know carry on as if their birthday was nothing. Don’t get me wrong, I refuse to work on my birthday. But this has more to do with me disliking work than anything else. Today is a work colleagues birthday. He is way over 18. He spent £50 feeding people who aren’t his friends, some of them hate him and yet will eat the free food (I didn’t). He works on phones, spent the majority of the morning telling customers it was his birthday. Now I know you have to build a rapport with the great unwashed but when your customer wants to do what he needs to do and hang up (Sounds like I work on a Sex line) your ‘special day’ matters diddly squat and mentioning it can come across as unprofessional.

Food rituals in the workplace are bullshit too. Its a unwritten rule that you have to bring stuff for your birthday, and you are judged on the quality of food you get, catering for all allergies in the office and watching out for those arseholes who will double dip the breadsticks. You are therefore a mixture of You, Jamie Oliver and Robocop.

I like other peoples birthdays. It gives me an opportunity to show the women and children in my life how much they mean to me. Really thats a grand total of three or so gifts (Daughter, Mother and the official photographer of the New York Yankees etc) But those are people I care about and people who I know appreciate what I got them. Not some people I happen to sit in a building with. Birthdays should be banned from the workplace. Which brings me to Yaya Toure.

Yaya Toure protegiendo el balon
Yaya Toure (centre) during a previous spell at Barca. Birthday Cake (not pictured)
I know this is a ruse. Yaya even tried to point it out himself. But for those who don’t know, Toure plays for Manchester City FC and his agent is saying that he will leave because they didn’t wish him Happy Birthday. In all reality he wants to leave because he can get a big bundle of cash from Barcelona. Thats fine with me. (Man doing job wants more money for working). However he does need to sack his agent for the “Birthday” plan because Yaya now looks like a bit of a dick. I hope he stays at Man City just for all the Birthday related chants he’ll get.

My birthday is in June by the way. Hint..

Hoping it's gonna come true.. but theres not a lot I can do

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