halofuck -

The big powerful all conquering force of the ocean wrecked havoc upon some of the unfortunates who tried, as one should, to ride the crest’s and sail with success upon its bountiful surface.

It causes humility with one flick of its power, a confidence killer, a life breaking and life changer. Almost at times, it seems to some of its victims, a flick performed out of spite, or revenge for being taking so lightly … or just out of pure random boredom. Or maybe, as well might be the case with a pacific little tug boat it’s something to do with an unpleasantness from a past life. Though there are times when it feels to the little tug that it’s present life is happening for the sake of future memory’s; from a future vessel many many years in ahead.

There’s been many a fine vessel set out upon it’s maiden voyage, thinking itself a grand liner with only the best on board. Or a vessel that travels in boho-romantic style, carrying gypsies and painters. The kind to flounce naked to the Argentine tango while love making with life itself…only these self-images are dashed upon the rocks of truth …as the ocean pounds reality across their bows.

But what is the ocean really up to?

Is it really demanding that the vessels tame themselves, haul in their oars and be nice and become 3 bags full sir!

I can’t believe that … how boring and if there’s one thing the ocean ain’t its boring.

Nah, its testing who’s got the backbone to haul its Keel back up and say “FUCK YOU!” I’m still me. You see the ocean likes its vessels to have a certain amount of spirit otherwise there’s nothing there for it to play balancing games with.

You know the balancing games right? Living with just the right amount of self-assuredness and positivity mixed with a certain arrogance tucked beside your invincible behaviour. However, you take your dreams and ambitions as a given before they’ve been achieved, well woe be tide you when the ocean flicks its fated power upon your path, fate will not put up with being taken for granted and remember it likes a genuine thanks nodded it’s way. Of course it doesn’t like slow witted cowards either… it can all be a little confusing these days (moondust.)

So the little tug boat was once a fairly decent vessel finding itself loaded with a certain amount of abundance. All be it, an abundance that takes quite some time to uncover. For when it first set sail…it did all the wrong things, it went out into the big vast powerful currents without knowing any better … only to discover that its brain wasn’t as sharp or as knowing as it needed to be… Fear’s shadow has hung over the little tug boat ever since. And when fear hangs its shadow over a life, that life is marked for struggle and no mistake!

So the vessel skimped and slooped. Its mind a mess, it had to deal with that fact that it had a sensitive grasp on a reality it knew nothing about. Oh dear what a pain for the vessel, all those years it bobbed like an apple lost and solo. The Solo bit hurt, it hurt and scarred forever more, it done strange things to its hull and mind.

But things changed for the little tug, it got itself some amigo’s and was so pleased it had others as friends, others that also wondered as lonely as a cloud.

It even found a vessel that it chopped and bobbed with for a good three years, but it didn’t work out, the the annoying feeling of a calling kept the little tug from feeling settled. So again it a was off on the high sea’s lonely and starved and not quite right in the head, it failed again and again and again.

But the little tug wasn’t weak, oh no sir it was not, for it kept on going … forever searching for form and land, for years and years it roamed. When one day it gazed a gazely stare at others who were just a flea-bitten and de-ranged as itself…

Things had changed for the little tug, it now had form and land, it had context and territory, but that brought it’s own problems…though it also gained riches … for soul-mates were a plenty and again another vessel showed an interest and together they hung around with each other, but the little tug was by now so used to thinking without societal helpings that it really wasn’t much cop! It didn’t have the stamina or strength never mind the life experience … the little tug boat was fucked up and a bit of a mess.

It sat bopping up and down upon the waves, wondering what had happened and why … though all the while it knew the answers, but still it paid good to ask anyway … for it had trouble with the answers, they couldn’t come out with all the words in the right places, if it could remember the words at all. For much to the little tugs horror, its memory was weak. It realised it had been around long and was very tired.

It looked at it’s sails then checked it’s decks. Looked also at the bounty that had been bestowed upon its shoulders and wondered why, with such an exciting bounty it found itself continually, in such a poor discarded mess? It wanted to cry. To have a little kiss touch its bows from a fellow traveller and be given comfort.

But it bopped alone.

The storms brewed heavy one year and the little tug was caught up in the middle of all the mayhem. The poor thing was battered from pillar to post, its already half dead body was kicked some more, so much so, it was no use to anyone… Secretly in it’s head it was relieved that its bigger daddy ship wasn’t around to see the state it was in, what an embarrassment that would’ve been.

The little tug felt control slip away, the great ocean waves of fate threw it’s little vulnerable body this way and that. Its ribs took a pounding, its jaw was dislocated and its head hurt all the more. Its ugly body was damaged, keel and hull were bruised and exhausted. In a coma it found itself hitting gently against an old port wall, it couldn’t believe it, the port wall was a familiar one, it was this very port that it first set sail all those years ago. When it was full of unreality and promise.

So the little tug drifted inland scarping against the wall. Its sail was just a pretend, sometimes the little boat grazed to near the shallows and its undercarriage gets a painful scrap.

“How can i help you little tug” says a voice “you really look in a bad way.”

The little tug gulped, wow a voice it thought to itself, someone was paying it heed.

“Eh yeh. Just a little bruised, i need some fixing up” replied the little tug “can you help?”

The voice also had eyes and used them against little tug, little tug felt strange having a pair of eyes looking at it almost in judgement.

“Well” it said “there’s possibility… But”

“But what?” quizzed the little boat

“Well it’ll cost some dosh… and besides where have you been all these years. Most from your batch have moved on and up, you know.”

The little tugged frowned “Who, and where have they all moved to?”

The voice didn’t answer it just eyed the tug up a bit more “It’ll cost you, getting your body fixed, might be some internal problems, who knows? I mean your not as young as you used to be?”

This had been dawning on the little tug for quite sometime and nodded so in agreement “I’ve taken so many wrong turns that I’m quite beside myself with shame and frustration” answered the little tug. “Once i was quite a grand thing, not the biggest or the best but enough to hold my head above water.”

Little tug look at itself sadly and conceded “Not now, I’m drowning now.”

Another false dawn frighten the little tug, for it knew how much hope can kill “eh can you really help?”

The voice stood wavering, wondering what to do ” well” it said eventually very unsure for it was put off by fears shadow that still haunted the little tug, it wondered if it could win against such a power. Just then a glint caught its eye. A way through to the other side, a glimpse of a promised land was still in the little tugs sights, it really hadn’t given up.

Such strength inspired the voice, it licked its lips and decided to give it one bloody good try.

Sleeping in a room that has a presences, you see in the old days like way back when first built in the 1920's and 30's no hospitals did people birthing and dying go, so they did the in-coming and the out-going did it all in there bedrooms. Which al told is a nice cosy way to do things.
Only when extremes happens something stays and lingers and becomes the atmosphere and the air, and become attached ooh they becomes attached.. not used to folks sleeping where they once slept, so they woozy your inner head, they make your feeling dizzy wizzy the whole of the next day, but i fights and i'm beginning to win, the message getting through and a compromise may even be reached.
Mean time we shoulder to shoulder and put ups with each other.

Read more...

Friendship is like a large bell jar, it’s so sensitive to touch, like picking up a valuable antique you feel the need to have it in your hands, but theirs the fear of dropping.
After every use you wipe the gentle bell jar clean and put it on the side to dry, you do it all the time, never losing that little bit of fear. But sometimes you try to hard; sometimes stuff just slips through your soapy hands. It happens sudden, nothing you can do about it... its just fate, fate showing whose boss... that not every slip can be avoided because fate deems that incorrect, you know I’ve often wondered if fate personalises?
It hits you in the guts that hot sickly feeling, a slight dry heave as the bell jars breaks around your feet... the world goes quiet, you stand shocked still - how did that happen - you say to yourself, you can't remember it, though it just smashed a second before.
Things will never be the same again, even with the help of the finest craftsmen and the most advance glue, once the bell jar breaks; it’s rare it can ever be repaired.
Your annoyed it’s like when your doing the dishes and you see blood in the water, you turn your hand, some how a knife has slit right along your palm, you didn't even feel it, didn't even know the knife was there... stitches later and its healed but your left for life with the scar…