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  • beulah888 5:35 AM on November 26, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , Hackney, , , , philosophical, ,   

    So, Having Moved On…. 


    So, having moved on like an obedient Servant of the Gods, I am feeling relieved and slightly healthier.  Like after a good shit.

    I was well on the way to being very healthy again, I know that, but the move and thing got me (gotta blame something) smoking a bit more heavily again.  I was doing well at the less of the death-stick and more of the fresh air and exercise thing, but when my enemies ‘start huffing’ I sometimes start puffing.  Furiously!

    So once again settled, at least for a couple months while I figure things out, or the Gods show me a profitable path, I am discovering that leaving that familiar unfamiliar place where I was getting oh so comfortable has not been debilitating, but releasing.

    Maybe I AM meant to be one of Life’s ‘hobos’ or something.  Maybe I really am on the God-given trail but not liking it too much, ’cause I want a home, enough money not to worry and a perfect partner to rub my back when it aches.

    Thought I had the first one licked, what with being so settled back at that place; and was investigating all sorts of ideas that might have got me some money (if I could pull off at least one) and thinking of where to start looking about for a perfect partner.  Then the BOOM of the God’s and I am out on my ass.

    I am therefore beginning to think I am an FOTG= Favourite Of The Gods.  [I have this propensity to look on/for the bright side.  Continuous shit like mine does not happen to just anyone.  I MUST be special.]

    As an FOTG therefore, I am assed if I am actually going to put a lot of effort into figuring things out, and instead I am enjoying the fact that I am not physically or mentally homeless, I get to know a different place, and my breathing problems have disappeared despite the smoking.

    Well, some of you know the Docs in Hackney couldn’t find a real cause and I blamed it on the zombies and other dead detritus that hang around that location.  Thankfully, as the wind blows and the seas flow, those that tried following or enlisting followers, have caught a cold and a boat to the goal of no release.

    So, having moved on….a new chapter is beginning.


    Fidel Castro died yesterday at 90.  Not bad for a guy who either was as special as I am, or more insane than we realised.  Either way it proves  to me:  I might as well plod on in style as the Gods truly have the final say.  Not zombies, or death threats, or assassination attempts, or diseases, or ogres with clubs.  Like Castro, I gonna smoke (burn earth, burn rubber, burn tyres, or just plain burn!) ’til I gotta hang up my guns.

    I off to find something or someone to cherish and relish and remember fondly.  Otherwise, what is the point of moving on?  In fact, otherwise, what is the point of Life?

    You with me ye Gods?

  • beulah888 3:23 AM on August 2, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Hackney, , humanities, , ,   

    Here I Am 


    So Far So GOOD

    Well it is finished, it is over, and here I am.

    Seven months since I posted It Is Done and I am done with London.  Particularly I am done with Hackney.  I have absconded.  Gone AWOL.  Done a bunker.  Flown the coop.  Never to return.  Thank God.

    Thanks to the Gods too, and Life’s Controller, that the relief, the peace, nay the feeling of freedom, is profound and very real.  I have rested.  I am rested and getting fat.  O.K. the getting fat bit must be addressed, I must do some Zumba or something; but the rest relief and peace must continue.  Nay, but happiness must follow.

    The Zombies tried to follow but they got tripped and confused by the geography (zombies have no BRAINS and cannot understand Human life or “time travel” or mere normal movement).  They tried and got combusted in attempting to ‘travel through time’.  It is beyond their scope to comprehend that then is not now and that London is not where I am at.   So yeah, peace.

    Mind you, while getting lost in Transit, they tried to enlist and/or bully others such as they into continuing the detrititious (is that a word?) behaviour towards me.  How foolish was that?  They knew nothing of the place and nothing of the ORIGIN or ownership of the other zombies, nor indeed did not know that this type would rather zonk them than do me harm.  Well, at least not at their say so.  Ergo, they got zapped and wapped, and then frizzled and fried by their namesakes, and spontaneously combusted trying to enter the ‘real world’.  For you  see, they cannot SEE.   Me now, I knew it was merely a matter of time until they disintegrated &c.,  so I remained at peace and let them ‘self-destruct’.

    So where am I now? I shall not say.  Suffice it TO say, I still have not changed and I am still me.  My family will attest to that.

    My life’s journey continues.

    All of Life’s journeys are like Marathons:  In some places breezy, in some testing, in yet others seemingly beyond you.  Yet there are always water-stations scattered along the way; and for those who have the stamina, there is the joy, the satisfaction, nay the sense of accomplishment and, yes, pride in knowing that you did not quit, did not succomb to the terrain or climate, did not drop dead in shame but continued to the end…and crossed the finish line.

    I am reminded of that saying:  “The race is not for the swift but for those who endure to the end.”

    You see, life’s journey is the greatest most superior race of all, and to finish it with aplomb, yea even with style, is all that I ask of myself….and of you.

    Safe journey.

  • beulah888 11:56 AM on April 9, 2015 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , council, eviction, Hackney, hillman street,   

    Hillman Street Benefit Studio 

    I visited the Hackney Service Centre again recently.  This time in a mission to register for Council housing as I am regularly being threatened with eviction.

    Well why not? That is their job.

  • beulah888 2:10 AM on May 3, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Fleas, Hackney, , , , Pet Peeves, , , , will.i.am,   

    Feeling Myself – No Apologies 

    I’m feeling myself

    I’m scratching my ass

    Maybe got fleas

    ‘Cause I’ve been lying in the grass

    With my doggie…

    doggie didgereedooo

    Now I’m feeling myself

    Not lying in the grass

    Feeling myself

    Not scratching my ass

    ‘Cause I feeling fine

    Feeling me

    No doggie shite..


    I own my own mind

    And no dog can get it

    So I’m feeling myself

    and loving it


    Yeah-eh, yeah-eh, yeah-eh!


    With no apologies to what’s-his-name.  My lyrics and a bit of your riddim.  Now go scratch your ass and your head, you dog!

     (Not you will.i.am.  I mean that Dog William.  He thinks he can turn around, spin around and be God.)

    Yeah, I’m feeling myself.

    Here,use this

  • beulah888 6:24 AM on April 22, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , environs, , Hackney, , Moving Home, , Photography, , Thoughts,   

    AT Home 




    Queensbridge Road

    Regents Canal

    London Fields……………….

    These areas surround me, making up not my ‘home’, but my Home’s environs.    Not my ‘walls’ by my Walls’ environs


    000_1056  000_1058 000_1076




    Dalston Kingsland


    Stamford Hill


    Old Street

    Mare Street

    Hackney Road





    Hackney Central

    Cambridge Heath Road


    Bethnal Green……..


    000_1038 000_1046000_1036

    No matter where


    They are not my environment, the thing which makes me whole;

    Not my estate – my place of being

    Nor that which sustains me

    But rather

    My inner self

    My family

    Those and that which is dear to me

    That which

    if I pluck up

    and take with me

    wherever I go…

    I will still be

    At Home.


  • beulah888 8:01 AM on January 15, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Benefits Street, Channel 4, Clegg, , Cradle of Filth, Darkness, Escape, Filth, Hackney, , , , TV, Workfare   

    Escape? There Is No Escape 

    Play Chess Online!

    There is no escape.   Hackney sucks the soul and then does not know what to do with it.

    It is worse than Benefits Street, it is Benefits Borough.

    Go on holiday to the world of freedom and niceties and genuinely pleasant people and then return to Hackney and slit your throat.


    The Darkness overwhelms me

    It cannot penetrate  me

    It cannot overcome me

    As I am blessed

    With foresight.


    The Darkness that is Hackney and its hack-need people overwhelms me with its hatred of all that is genuine or good about life  while  at the same time appearing to embrace it in new buildings and developments.  As if new buildings or developments  can erase the filth of  minds.

    Refurbish the council flats and make them fit for humans but keep the piglets and cows in them!  How sensible is that?

    Still filth of minds and filth of stairwells and overflowing garbage which tenants refuse to bag.

    Still making out on the stairs, selling dope, sniffing coke, droppings of dog shit in the corridors; while they smash the potted plants and move the mats from outside your door.


    cradle of filth


    No escaping it.  Clean the housing  units, but still garbage as occupiers and tenants.  Help!!

    The building and fixtures are worth more than those less-than-humans using them.   Chuck them all in the Regents Canal, and save the buildings from further abuse by these unhouseable scum.

    Escape?  There is no escaping the fact that they escape workfare while the ‘softies’ get pressed into voluntary work.   There is no escaping the fact that Cameron and Clegg (et al?) have more in common with these than with the ordinary real person.  They themselves have a benefits mentality even if they are ‘politicians’ or ‘elite’.  They belong in Benefits Borough.  Scroungers all.  Living off the state of others.

    My homeaffairs are in order.   My Home is at peace.

    If only it was in a decent neighbourhood.   Maybe I need to escape Benefits Borough.  First I have to get off Benefits Street.

    See you on TV.


    There Is No Escape

  • beulah888 6:08 AM on December 30, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Candy, Chocolate, , Freedom of Speech, Hackney, Hackney Road, , Law, Opinion,   

    Two Chocolates And A Bite Of Freedom 

    English: Shops on Hackney Road Near Cambridge ...

    English: Shops on Hackney Road Near Cambridge Heath Station (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    Just finished a quarter of my second chocolate bar.  I bought both, a Snickers and a Lion.  Yeah, that’s me.  a Snickering Lion.

    I walked all the way along Hackney Road to do this, and am still trying to  eat the Lion.  It is a tough one.  Sticky pully and caramelly.  Dropping bits in the  cafe chair as I type and the owner/manager glances not so surreptitiously at me.

    It is freedom.

    Freedom to walk along and buy two whole chocolates and attempt to eat them and to drop bits in the nice Internet Cafe lady’s not so hot chair.   It is Freedom to choose to have two chocolates and to be able to purchase them and to eat them and not have to offer anyone any.  It is Freedom to sit her typing this with no one bothering me, even though I might be typing inflammatory materiele of the political/sexist/racist or other so determined kind.

    It is Freedom of Type.  Freedom of Bite.  Freedom of Speech.

    Freedom is hounded by those who invent the inflammatory materiel label to stick onto something they want hidden or with which they do not agree,  and think they have the right to press down opinion.  Even foolish opinions get an airing.  Especially in Hackney where everyone is either mad or foolish or both.

    Except for me of course.  I am neither mad or foolish.  I am grumpy.

    The thing is, once your foolish opinion does not agree with the other  general foolish opinions you can be labeled insane or stupid.  However, if you get a following, you might be labelled “a big man” in the community.  Some community.

    I love chocolate (s), even drinking chocolate.  I love freedom.  Even Freedom of Type.

    Some persons would say that Freedom of Type is the same  as Freedom of Speech.   I do not agree.  I can type all I like and even write a trilogy of offensive stuff, but unless it gets published AND some  people read and follow instructions or whatever,  all I have done is verified the need to save a few trees.

    Once I speech, that is speak, something however, what I have done is given credence to a thought or belief and have also published/publicized that belief in no uncertain terms.   A bit of paper or a poster is legally easier to deal with, but legally weaker as a means to an end.   A speech is legally more difficult to deal with but legally stronger as a means to an end.

    Type is written, speech spoken.  But which is more ‘free’?  I would say the Freedom of Type.   After all, I can rip up or delete or otherwise erase.  With bloody free speech all I can do is wish I had kept my mouth shut.

    Me, I prefer chocolates.  Each bite is a bite of freedom.   If I am chomping on a Lion, I can’t really do much harm.  Even if I am typing.   ‘Cause my mouth is too full of gooey sweet stuff to allow me to utter a single word.  All I can do is type and bite.

    So I’m feeling rather free right now.   A silent sweet freedom.

    English: A Snickers candy bar, broken in half.

    Foolish opinions or no,  I air my views, but I still want my freedom.

  • beulah888 9:19 AM on December 5, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Alejandro Morales-Loaiza, caption, , Death stalks, Egypt, Grief Loss and Bereavement, Hackney, John Donne, Photo credit, Rest, Sleep, St Anthony, , Twilight Zone, Walking-Dead,   

    Death Life And The Twilight-Zoners 

    Still-Life with a Skull, vanitas painting.

    Still-Life with a Skull, vanitas painting. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    St Antony of Egypt

    St Antony of Egypt (Photo credit: Lawrence OP)

    Death stalks Hackney like a plague.  A Carriage carrying Death to every door is abroad on the streets and lanes and walks and byways.   It is covered in a cloud and cloaked in a cloak; but the cloud is the deceiver.

    La Muerte | Death | La Mort

    La Muerte | Death | La Mort (Photo credit: Alejandro Morales-Loaiza)

    Hackney, London, has given me nothing but grief, so I am pleased to see it get its comeuppance.   Grieved and grief-stricken may those that struck me be.

    How could someone live in a place for over six years and have no-one nearby on whom that person would feel free to call upon for assistance in an emergency?   I figure it is because those that live nearby are not neighbours.  Or friends.  One would call upon neighbours or friends.  Or even good strangers.   So if that person does not feel free to call upon those nearby, then it must be because that person knows (not feels, thinks or surmises) that those nearby are not going to be of assistance.  Does the Butcher save the pig when it squeals?  Can an enemy or foe give you comfort?  Would the Usurer relieve you in your debt?


    Death.  A panacea to many.


    Life a threat to some.


    Some fear Life more than Death.  They have their heads on backwards; are backward facing even as they walk backward, thinking they are facing forward.  Not seeing where they are going, only noting where they have trespassed.  Hoping that by so doing they will not have to face the reality of their transgression.


    Life is about forward movement.  About upliftment.  Death is a finality of that.  So the walking zombies, inhabited by bats and vermin and the bugs of death, cannot bear to face Life.  They therefore walk backwards less they stumble upon the truth.  If they try to walk forward then they are forever looking backward, peeping over their shoulders in fear that someone, something, will recognize them for the frauds they are.  They are afraid of the Truth.  That Life is greater than Death.  That the place they belong to is less than a no-man’s land.  And perchance they fall back into the void from whence they came, they pretend to know where they are going, pretend not to care, and turn their back.  But the Truth is there before and behind them.  The truth being that they are a Lie.


    They have no future, nothing to look forward to.  Nothing behind them that has not gone on before.  That is past.

    Their future is their past and their past their present.  Hence they have no real present and no future. Therefore, how can they be?


    So whichever way they go or turn they are in an eternal never-land.


    Twilight-zoners.    The ‘Walking-Dead’.


    Eye death

    Eye death (Photo credit: @Doug88888)







    DEATH, be not proud, though some have called thee
    Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:
    For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
    Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.
    From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be,
    Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow;
    And soonest our best men with thee do go–
    Rest of their bones and souls’ delivery!
    Thou’rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
    And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
    And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
    And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then?
     One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
     And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die!

       “Death” by John Donne

  • beulah888 9:57 AM on December 4, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Bathroom, Bog, Hackney, , , Loo, , Poetry, Poo, Shampoo Shave And A Shower, , Shite, Toilet,   

    I Shite At Nite…..My Shite…In Hackney 

    I Shite At Nite

    This is mine.  This page, Shampoo Shave And A Shower, is part of my grand WordPress blog. And “I Shite At Night” is just part of it.

    I love myself dearly.  I am not full of shit as those Hackney mad people and zombies are.  I have a life and a beautiful one at that.

    So this blog being homeaffairsdotme, must include the toilette, toilet, bathroom, boudoir and bed.  Not to mention the kitchen which is not the heart but the soul of any home.

    I shite at night because it is my right to shite

    Don’t tell me I must shite in the day, just because you say

    It is the  normal thing to do

    What is normal for you is not right to me

    What is right is normal is right, you see

    And to shite in the day, because you are scared

    Is no reason for me to fear –  you.

    I shite when I feel like

    And that is at nite

    When Nature naturally calls

    You shit out of fear

    Of the dark and the drear

    Of your deadend dead-end state

    And because all of you do it

    Shit I mean,

    That’s no reason for me to share

    Your guilt your pain your sorrow or your air

    For mine, my state

    My ‘homeaffairs’

    Are in order

    Hence my shite

    Though it is done at night

    Is a sweet-smelling odour

    Of natural shit.


  • beulah888 8:26 AM on August 1, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Bean Sprouts, Condiment, , , Hackney, intimate encounter, Juno, , , meal, restaurant, Sauce, Shoreditch   

    What’s In A Meal? 

     Bean Sprouts, Vermicelli, other stuff all on bed of lettuce and sauteeing in a sauce of sauces that taste of ginger, soy, and other stuff that tastes so overwhelmingly good you must get a couple wedges of the freshly baked, light, fluffy but crisp garlic enriched bread to soak up and…..I am happy.  I am in heaven for a moment.  I am better satisfied than, OK, at least as, an intimate encounter with a fine member of the homo sapiens species. I am at peace.  I crave nothing more than a fine wine (half a glass); a smelly cigar and a bit of further relaxation.  I am replete.

    In a meal at Juno’s on Shoreditch High Street I encountered quality class expertise love knowledge simplicity joy pleasure.

    Not quite Vietnamese.  Not quite Burmese.  Just ‘ease’.

    This was a beautiful inspiring uplifting work of art by a lowly young chef that allowed me to kiss him (on the cheek of course) for him having made me so happy.   A hot stifling day blown away by perfection.

    Well, well, well.

    Hackney is still shite but the smell is fading in the aroma of the sauce that awakens desire and the substance of the ingredients that make the meal real.

    And Shoreditch isn’t really Hackney, is it?  It certainly isn’t Dalston!

    Time to be grumpy later.  Maybe.  I am still luxuriating in the flavours of Juno’s Chef’s £6 delight.

    Perhaps it was the Sun, but for once I was in no rush to get home to my hermetically sealed place of detoxification.   In fact, I had to stop off at this dying library to blog about the meal.   It was some meal!!

    What’s in a meal?  The power to shift your soul.

     Juno is at 134-135 Shoreditch High Street, E1 6JE.   Tell ‘im the lady that likes peppers said hello. (snigger snigger)

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