we do not forget
Connections
From many years ago…Trying to re-kindle my lust.
It all seems so clear one minute, And the next, It’s as cloudy as ever.
On clear nights, When the planets and stars are visible on Earth, I find myself outside, Almost as if called to, Beckoned, Lead on. Or perhaps fooled.
I cannot have the connection that I once imagined I had.
For what purpose? Why to me? Surely, If at all, It would be reserved for those not on the fringes of society, But for those on the crest of a wave, surfing it with ease.
It’s not as though I never expect the extraordinary.
It was a matter of course for a long time, And when I sought, I found.
It would take me weeks, Months, And years to quantify these things in my life. Some will never be reconciled.
Yes, I certainly was privileged to be where I was, It did not always feel that way to me…
View original post 401 more words
Signals in ‘C’… (continued:2)
I kind of already knew when I started this new job that it would be unlikely serve me well as a career. I’d ended up drifting and for the ten or 11 years leading up to this latest , what I’ll call poor choice, and through summer,winter, hot,cold and indifferent modes of operation nothing could penetrate the defenses I had to raise to protect myself from the infiltration of the signalling.
As an enquisitive type(some say nosey) I would welcome ‘comms’. Sometimes it was more like a ‘ping’, imagine a rubber ball being fired at your head from somewhere, perhaps in a crowded room. You’re unlikely to be sure of the source of it but someone must have thrown it if it made contact,boing or thwack type of thing. Following the boing or thwack there will be shock and surprise on your part and possibly embarrassment, the kind that will trigger standard defense response. Scanning faces like a CCTV camera, looking for a smirk or nudge or clue, a likely culprit or at least someone to whom you can transfer the scowl on your screwed up face.
‘IC’s’ (intelligent/invasive comms) were not rubber balls however, more like target seeking transmissions, missiles which are directed to specific places, people, and times. Much like a trojan virus enters a computer and spreads its invisible corrupting code throughout each and every system in a bid to cause disruption, pain, loss, infiltration, confusion… Galaxy to galaxy conference calling, multitudes of alien languages and recognisable,very definitive frequency patterns are being, and have been received by specialist Earth receivers for Centuries. Now ,I myself have documented such cooperative engagements. I have listened to ‘Alien garble’ flow from children seemingly tranced or ‘acting oddly’,making noises, twitching and contorting their bodies in highly rhythmic and strangely choreographed movements. I know for a fact that the same is true of Teenagers, young Adults, middle-aged folks, The elderly…. Paperboy, Burger technician, office jockey. Unemployed, Business owners, Mums, Dad’s, Son’s, Daughters, Rich, poor.. The subject is ultimately unimportant as all that matters is the interception and deciphering of the code.
Of course, this shouldn’t really be happening in our fair and civilized society you would like to think…
Not that I am intent on scaremongering or sensationalism, That would be resident at exactly the other end of the scale. Neither am I a whistle-blower, conspiracy theorist, I have never held a position of power or privilege….I am not special or superior to anyone, but I do feel a duty to share all that I know because the implications and far-reaching consequences for all of us are insurmountable.
‘I’m afraid that your confessional will have to be postponed Proxy.
Although I was sitting alone with my head-splitting, situations, visuals and what felt like white noise resonated heavily and painfully.
‘Oh for Fuck sake!’ was the fullest and defeated reply I could muster as my heavy head swung down to meet my open hands, Please, fucking’ ‘ell..Haven’t I done enough ?
The IC’s that I had personally experienced seemed at first to follow a certain trigger, a sequence of events would occur and even after the first Thirty five I grasped at straws, wrote fictional stories about it and hoped that someone else would recognise it, do the hard work as it were.
Here I am again digressing and branching out, off on a tangent which may be a circle.
I keep forgetting. Maybe that’s the point.
************************
Driving from one oil filled diesel pit to the next changing crud encrusted diesel filters, oil sludge traps. Toiling for hours on end crawling on hands and knees in pissing rain, hail wind and snow was the part of my employment I actually enjoyed. It was filthy and paid less than minimum wage. No overtime, No lunch, No drinking the Diesel and other petty rules. It ensured that I was engaged in something, and They left me alone for a while…. I forget the time period however.
*************************
“We’ve cut the A.I link. You may as well retire from this particular game, it’s over Proxy. Let it go! ”
Microphone head drawled with disinterest and began reeling off the spiel about how I had been invaluable, exemplary, establishing translation protocols between so many new worlds…Of course it was all bollocks, I and everyone else were used as live test subjects, 100% expendable. Virtually sentenced to Death every time we experimented. Our missions were classified as ‘One Way’ but of course, none of us were made aware of that small fact.
There is one saving grace however, and it will be our salvation. The A.I link thing ? The link they think they’ve cut !……
************************
SIGNALS in ‘C’ (introduction)
Depending on where you access these notes, I mean to say at what point in the text you find yourself here, It would seem apt to wonder if this is the beginning of a story, the end of a story,
or maybe the middle bit..
If you want to read a book with a structured story, I suggest visiting a high street book store or looking online for popular novels about wizards, prostitutes, or bankers.
Because I’m not a writer, a story in the conventional sense is an alien concept to me and so the following are merely words which come into print through witchcraft, sorcery, Alchemy and such like. Watching words appear magically on a blank, white empty space never ceases to amaze and satisfy. It all must make perfect sense to someone, maybe the author who resides in a very different place from the one I inhabit. It is possible that we’ll meet someday but artistic differences will probably repel us like the opposing poles of a magnet. on consideration and consultation, we have mutually agreed not to ‘go there’, and so… Onwards.
My ‘ghost writer’ appears only now and then. She used to be alot more frequent, sometimes hung around all day and night for weeks or months on end, feeding my curiosity, leading me into situations and scenarios which were usually terrifying yet compelling, ridiculous, comedic at times but insanely rewarding on a level somewhere deep down where I’d never even imagined.
She is ‘c’ or ‘cc’, I am ‘r’ or ‘arsehole’, call me what you like, I will treat you in the same way, I’m like that you see, very polite. I call a lady ma’am and a gentleman Sir. Occasionally, I address people as cunts, but only close friends.
me and c have been ‘together’ many times before, in previous notes I have documented some of our collaborations which were ninety percent nightime journeys usually involving pitch black woodland, abandoned buildings in the middle of nowhere and an ever present stirring in the pit of my stomach. She beckoned and I obeyed, it may sound ridiculous but witnessing and feeling change,
the air pressure, temperature and sky scape transition as if controlled by some ‘guy in the sky’
pressing keys and pushing faders.. I knew pursuing this was neccessary, Nah, it was imperative,
I had a role in this, whatever it was and I was drawn in deeper and deeper until reality became nothing more than a distant relation.
“so” I heard her say…”what’s next?”….
————-
AMBER SIGNALS (part 1)
Prequel to Amber Signals..
ALIEN CONCEPTS:
A case from the files of a spy in the nut house.
These short excerpts represent ‘A patients’ State of mind whilst receiving treatment for apparent psychosis. Ally (Assumed name), claims she originally hand wrote the statements and apparent messages and says she remembers doing so on certain occasions. Her consultant was sceptical. After studying the pieces he devised a test to disprove her or to the contrary. What he discovered certainly wasn’t envisaged. The simple handwriting test was 100% conclusive, There was no doubt about that. Little things cropped up in the text however.
At first a couple of numbers caught his attention. Codes, Manufacturers I.D’s, Supposedly highly confidential and accessible only by a select few. Where did she learn of this?
‘ It was undeniable. Theres no doubt in my mind, Sure. Okay then, Where are we at this juncture I remember saying outloud- It’s an…
View original post 1,828 more words
CAROUSEL CONSTANT
From 2011
When I realised that I was stuck on this carousel forever, literally, I thought it would have hit me harder.
I guess I was still waiting for the punchline, In a manner of speaking.
‘It would make compelling viewing, I was here, There, Everywhere, All at the same time’
It started to come back to me and began wondering what would happen in the next episode…
The lights and hubub of the crowd. The smell of burning diesel, Hot toffee apples, Candy floss, Meat. Pounding Bass spun in the atmosphere, Re-arranging the pressure.
The shouts, Screams, Smiles, the laughs and the tears.
Gears grinding, Wheeld turning, Pistons in constant and content motion.
People in motion.
I remembered the people mover, The perambulator, And our night games…
If I thought about it too much, it would reduce me to a wreck.
She was there, Right there, Close to me.
She was…
View original post 61 more words
‘PERSPEXii’ – I looked through. (2004)
From 2011
Like an emotional ampifier the music reflected my soul and fed it back to me. Memories which are stirred, Vivid, detailed, Precise and concise implants which I have no recollection nor real understanding of in this life.
It’s not so easily dismissed, If it was a case of ‘IGNORE and FORGET’ , I wouldn’t suffer as much when I landed. This searching stuff sounds ridiculous in print, It is because of this that I have largely stopped reading it, So forgive me if tangents turn into Monumental changes of direction, It’s definately not edited, It’s dis-jointed and may not make sense at first.
These are merely out-pourings of spuriousness which spill forth in a torrent of fast flowing garbage.
The main point of the blog is to get everything into print. All the loose leaf A4 and countless notepads full of scribbled words, which as a collective would make an…
View original post 239 more words
‘TRANSITION’ (Amber signals ch1)
From 2011….
For the last sixteen days Ally had emerged only at night, Shrouded in darkness, Shying away from contact and light. Spending hours often in temperatures less than bearable to most. It was her special place, A place for escape and a place where she felt relaxed and able to open up to herself. And only herself she thought.
The orange haze emanating from the row of street lamps about fifty feet below allowed her to still see the team of rabbits that lived in the hill around the harbour. Watching intently, crouching dangerously close to the sheer edge of the higher harbour wall, Ally felt a connection with the animals, Not like she were able to talk about the weather or the price of carrots, But that they were aware of her presence in their world at night and seemed comfortable with that.
They were doing their usual thing, Hop…
View original post 299 more words
Flashing Amber
From 2011…..
I get so many signs. I never ignore them but sometimes become totally over whelmed. I know ‘It’s’ There, I need to learn to enjoy it but am so suspicious. ‘It’ Has been right there, In front of my face and yet reason and logic has forced me to dis-prove it, Going over the same ground again, And again. It builds anger inside and frustration too, Sometimes it just has to come out.
Someone who knows (feels) the definition of ecstasy has experienced true love, Via whatever means. It’s in you and it’s multiplied by others like you. The more you allow yourself to be integrated into the collective, The more is acheived, The greater the satisfaction, Pleasure, Accomplishment, Contentment. Nothing is rubbish. It’s all part of the process. If you miss it one time, It will come back around, If you are aware that you’ve missed it , You will…
View original post 21 more words
Do I know you? , or have I been here before ? SERIOUSLY, you may struggle with this one..
(The following text relates to a single subject who somehow manages to arrive in different places at the same time. It may read as nonsensical. There is a recurring point of importance which is common to many other posts. It’s not so much a story, they’re all just an assembly of letters positioned one after another in order to construct words. A conveyance of a feeling or a fact even……)
Oh Wow !, I just had one of those revelations. You’ll no doubt be familiar with.
Mine arrived in the usual manner, from out of nowhere at an unexpected moment. It was a real game changer, completely flipped a disastrous, potentially dangerous situation and saved my ass big time.
Travelling around scribbling things about stuff has lost a good proportion of its appeal. That was my escape though. What else is there?
The lust, the craving, the obsession and the promise of unknown and often genuinely terrifying discoveries and situations were a big attraction. It was proper alone time which was becoming increasingly intertwined with my ‘normal’ lifestyle. There was no way I could just up and leave.
I seem to have developed a new personality trait to compliment my other bag of shite. In truth, It’s entirely possible that this trait of guilt has always been with me, just that it’s got lost with everything else in my days. Maybe I’m a prick through and through and ignored myself.
But once again its the same set of circumstances that bring me to this exchange of information. It’s a rare occasion, this communication thing. Awkward at times, impossible usually and outside influences interfere in ways I can never anticipate and often struggle to deal with effectively, if at all.
So, it’s come to this, integral conversation, the only way to exorcise. To purge. Dump.
Even as I write, it’s being censored heavily and every word is only for necessity. Someone called: ‘It was Lynsey from round the corner. A minute or two away. but once again its beyond my poor as fuck ‘social function’.
‘How much more pish can you indulge your (actual reality’s) self with.?’
I saw anger bursts occurring more and more frequently and could not push past it. There were too many keys, it was hidden from sight and indeed memory. ADVICE: enjoy what you can, all of it is a bonus , didn’t even think I could get close. This is truly playing with knives. I’ve got to take that risk.
Looks like were through ! barely, but, aye 🙂 standby:…
It could still happen, if I am right that is. Actual success, hard work I feel like I’ve done a good bit grounding like, you know. It may be hundreds, and then that ‘ping’ from somewhere. It was both help and hinderance and that’s the major downside or actual flaw in the complete plan. Thankfully I was enjoying the stimulating sounds and opening my mind seemed attractive at a stage or two.
Total isolation in real life terms, a bit drastic ? yes, I’d wasted too much people’s time effort and I had to come to some kind of non contrived, satisfactory conclusion. A volume of books could have been written about the escapades and research I did on substances alone. But there’s fuck all to show just a mass of paper covered in words,’ sounds like pish tae me ‘ was actually the working title of a music and TV and Film series I think.
All it turned out to be was an a4 pad page of three passages, something a bit cryptic probably. Everyone had their own particular idea as to meaning, like it actually meant anything to me. That was then.
Someone asked me how much money I thought I’d amassed. Well, I don’t fucking know, fuck sake. What a ridiculous thing to ask. When I found every wardrobe in a house I was living in stacked floor to ceiling with bundles of £50 notes you could say I was puzzled. The cash wasn’t used, it never moved, nobody used paper. But I had it all in my house, It took me several lifetime’s, so many different points of view. Once I think I may have been amongst a flock of seagulls for about twenty years. And if that statement doesn’t seem odd and, you like looking at loads of words for hours on end, taking in sentences and pages full of text that was plucked out of the air.
In a nutshell. Supplies from outside, or ‘inside’ were traded, during the changeover, The turning point, The transition of the zones. There’s men, women and children, killed every day on the ram climb thru chamber, About a million a year in fact, ain’t that funny? I have a saying : If you’re a successful business owner these days, you’re ‘skipping’. The entire planets currency system was founded through skipping. Think about it..In fact I’ll need to tell you the basic piece of information you lack which of course keeps you out of their suppliers reaches. And when I say suppliers, I mean big arseholes. Cunts would throw you off city buildings for selling tablet and macaroon. But anyway, as per usual I digress, I’ll be millions of miles away by the end, I guarantee it. Not sure where we are now to be honest..Ha!
K, here ye go son, you might not absorb the information never mind believe it…Earth is , like, ye knaw…ken..different from how used to be back in the day, whenever that was, maybe a very long time ago, and if you think about the old fashioned record players in the 60’s and 70’s that used to hold up a stack of vinyl above the turntable till all the records dropped, were played, enjoyed, then re stacked in the dispenser.
I’d draw you a picture, but someone keeps stealing my paper and pens. See ? Are you ready to go now? I can make it happen if it’s really time. As I answered her silent question, Another root would embed in my brain and the link kept getting more peristant and frequent.
We were all feeeling it more, I couldnt move, still unsettled by the television coverage, There was slight tones of encouragement from some of the characters doing the rounds, but I learned to ignore those cunts, All in my head see, just figments of my artificial intelligence.
It’s hard to even portray how much I need your help.
LET IT GO!
I’ve been humiliated and led on before, I know the difference.
Fucking bunch of con cunts. HA!
A relative success then?
Confusion. I would never give up. I have experiments to finish, and people to see. I’m not setting a good example here. Cheers guys n girlys , I am coming home soon it would seem.
CANT FUCKING WAIT !!!
TALES UNRAVELLING. 