15/09/03 8.30pm BBC1
Posted Sep 17, 2003
We like to see a rending of the
Layers of epidermis pulled
Apart like candyfloss.
That lump of meat
cubed into segments-
We relish seeing the bruises-
it makes it tender you see,
Easier to Digest.
We Watch. Emotional Nakedness.
We can suck such extremes up,
Filling us up from the inside out.
I wouldn't usually....
Posted May 30, 2003
...put stuff about work onsite: usually because it is very boring [and don't be deceived this time], however I find this amusing, so I'll share.
I work on a customer services desk at a major supermarket. Now, last night I had a phone call from a rather irate customer. It turns out that his lasagne: which he'd purchased from my store was wet. It was like a soup and all the sauces were mixed together etc. etc. He went in a similar vein for quite some time. I then asked him when he wanted to come in to deal with it. He said he wanted it done now, and he'd be in tonight, and he wouldn't be happy [quivering in my boots!]
So, he poles up an hour later, which is when the fun really begins! He came with his lasagnes on a couple of his plates, along with his garlic bread and his chips: it ruined his whole meal he says.
He then, gives me a list of his demands for having a wet lasagne: he wants:
6.20 for a fish and chip supper, he had to buy a replacement dinner it was so wet!
20 miles worth of petrol
30 mins worth electricity for cooking it
and a replacement lasagne et al.
This is the part where I stifle a guffaw: all this for a wet lasagne! I told him that I'd got to go talk to a manager to see what I could do: I deliberately chose one with a sense of humour! We then had a chat, and I told her what I was going to do...and she agreed.
I then went back to him and offered his money back on the lasagne, and to do a product report on it, so it could be resolved directly from Head Office. This seemed to settle him a bit: obviously the hint of a couple of gift vouchers was peaking his interest! Through a minor miracle of tact and diplomacy, I managed for him to walk away with only four pounds: all without getting a manager involved.
I then went round into our little room and burst out laughing!
Posted May 28, 2003
...written anything onsite for a while, so I thought I'd add a little tidbit, but I'm still not sure if it works It was a tad more grisly than I intended!
A. Wiggin in the Lake District
Today, I went to the Lake District
And this is what I saw:
The largest giant I have ever seen.
He lies outstretched from horizon to horizon.
Dead and decaying.
A great ridge forms his arm,
Coated in a forest of lichen
Sucking the dampness out of his veins
Standing upright as goosebumps.
Upon which, lies his head:
A great gouge brings shards of bone
And gouts of blood.
Specks of brain litter his hair, ageing it.
Out of the injury emerge huge maggots,
Shovelling out yet more of his essence: he becomes
The landscape with every exchange.
His legs are splated,
At weird unnatural angles,
Pushed back by a ribbon of blood.
He is covered by a patchwork quilt:
A network of partitions, each containing a
He is pegged down by it: unable to move.
And myself: What am I?
I am an ant, crawling and squirming
Over a premature, rotting body.
Posted Jan 7, 2003
My back is straight and clothed:
Shoulders back to meet the new day.
My feet are bare.
Fleshy Rounded. Child-Like Feet.
I can feel the vessel beneath them
Each rib is a mountain, sheer and not to be wandered along
The [Intercostal] spaces between them a valley that stretches inexorably into the future.
I wiggle my toes slowly on the waxy surface; it is
Stretched, like parchment used that one time too many
I am placed in motion, shuffling
rhythmic, swaying like a sultan.
Where I Belong.
I look out at the surrounding vista:
because I can.
I see others on their vessels all locked in their sleepy dance:
Where They belong.
I feel Their world being ripped away as my vessel jolts.
i feel like a hill,
a moss covered boulder.
His feet are firmly on my back:
a bow waiting to be sprung, taut
pulled to it's fullest extent.
it is Time to Move,
my feet suffle on- shufti,
shufto, shufti, shufto...
almost be habit.
they don't feel,
they are crusty and warped: a star
folding in on itself
i notice the ground, my constant companion
strewn with angular stones, barren yet hungry for life
i am becoming the land, slowly taking on its characteristics
ceasing to be.
III: We fall, I roll,
We face one another:-
Our eyes... They are so alike!
Round, clear pools flecked with fire.
I place my hands on his arm:
an involuntary motion, uncertain.
We have been together forever, yet
our similarities- They hit me like a blow.
Confused a the starkness of our shared humanity.
He touches my elbow
His Hand is unused:
preserved, and yet.
And Yet, I no longer feel a part of the landscape,
but a part from it.
I am a rock unfurled, seeing the sky
How blue it looks!
I see Him. Watching Me.
I see the sky in him. In His Eyes.
We place out our hands and grab.
The diversity of a community
Posted Nov 18, 2002
How weird is this place!
Always buzzing constant freneticity
a melding of the real, the unreal
the surreal; the super real
different people, different situations,
different problems; different solutions
people being themselves, people being other people;
people escaping from themselves
a myriad of juxtaposed personalities,
with the accompanying hi's lows ups downs; middles
bringing together the mundane and the extramundane,
the ordinary and the extraordinary.