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  • beulah888 6:47 AM on October 29, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , , love   

    Sling Your Hook 

    Well, it’s time again. It seems I “gotta go”. Why, dear Gods, are you having people chuck stuff at me, chuck me out, and generally pissing on my parade. Enough!

    Not only was I comfortable, well mostly anyway, where I was, I was beginning to get some things sorted out. Then, BOOM. Along comes an Ogre with his club, and starts demanding I go. Go where now, O ye gods? Really, what have I done to offend you all in such a way that you wish to keep me like a Rolling Stone. Yep, I know the saying: “A rolling stone gathers no moss.” But is moss such a bad thing? What should one gather? Memories and thoughts alone?! What about a little nest egg? Um? And, oh yeah, if I manage that (somehow) ye Gods then make me use it up in moving on AGAIN.
    I am a HOBO!!! Not scruffy and degenerate,…. or is that it? I have not become scruffy and degenerate so you keep pushing and pulling and shoving and bellowing in the hope, in the EXPECTATION that that is how I shall be?! Dear God! No, no real god could want that for me, cause no real God could be that unkind; well not at this point or hereafter, considering ALL you have already put me through. So WHY/

    I fervently pray that this has something to do with rewarding me for being such a god sport in taking all the shit that has been thrown at me all the years. You must have had your fill. Belly laughs and OOhs and Aws at the dickens of a life’s journey you assigned me. Well, Gods, show your mettle and worth and upturn the apple cart. Show that, you give a shit about ME now and give me the promised Justice and repose. Otherwise, “sling your hook”!

    Mercy.

    dscn0656

     
  • beulah888 8:26 AM on August 1, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Bean Sprouts, Condiment, , , , intimate encounter, Juno, , love, 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)

     
  • beulah888 3:50 AM on July 19, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , love, summer   

    So I Am still Here, Love 

    Yes I am still here. Traipsing around Hackney, re-visiting a couple of ‘Drop-Ins’ that I got familiar with when I was homeless a few years ago. Now that the new Council Tax legislation has reduced me I thought I’d use, or had to use, these soup kitchen open door places. Much improvement since my day a homeless louche.  O.K.  So I wasn’t a louche as I was never shady,dubious, or disreputable, but I was homeless. And that by societal definition makes you a louche.

    I am still here in Hackney wondering why.

    Not why was I homeless all those years ago for so many years at different times.   That is a long convoluted story full of innuendo, conspiracy theories and facts.  As they all are I suppose.

    No, I am wondering:  “Why am I still in Hackney?”   I mean, can’t I go elsewhere?  Move house?  Oh, I don’t own one.

    O.K.   Visit friends and relatives for this great hot Summer?  Friends?  Ah, I owe them money.   Oops.    Relatives?   All in other countries, and I have no money.

    The circle is completed.

    Money it is.   Love makes the world go around, and so it should, but money makes us enjoy the world a bit more. Money is not the root of all evil.  The love of money is though.

    I would love to have some money to pay off bills and enjoy a few paid gigs.  I would love to have some money to give to certain people and to repay a few others.  I would love to have some money so that I could go on holiday.

    What holiday?  I do not have a job.   I am permanently on holiday actively seeking gainful (read paid) employment.

    Would I enjoy the world a bit more if I had money?  Oh yes!  I would be able to spend days if not months away from the hole that is Hackney. That would make me enjoy the world a bit more.

    Right now as Hackney is (G-d help me!!) the only world I get to enjoy I am beginning to get obsessed with the need for money. ‘Bout time too.

    I am also getting older and incrementally disinclined to revamp my CV or even polish up or get a skill.   I am applying for jobs and trying catalogue distribution. Not much there.

    I am feeling retired.  Put out to pasture.  Left to graze the meager tufts jutting between the rocks of a hard place.  (Am I a writer or what!?)

    Seriously, I am still here, in Hackney watching the new developments spring as I wait for the Summer’s Sun to  burn the carcass of my dead past.  In doing this the Summer’s Sun has enabled me to address some ‘home affairs’ and I am once again communicating with particular family and old friends.

    They are particular in that I love them even though I have not been in contact for over a decade. They are particular in that they didn’t give a rat’s fart about that and are phoning me up weekly. They are particular in that they love me more than money or the world it seems. And that is nice.

    Oh! If only I could escape the Hackney carriage of dole and ride on a star.  Or maybe an aeroplane.

    Yes, I am still here, love, and life is beautiful.  And not even the Hackney zombies can change that.

    love

     
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