milligan's saviour

Later, as we sat in the locked up bar sipping drinks with cigarettes lit, that was the straw that broke the camels back, says milligan, that fucking man sitting there in the fucking urinals, going on about the floods, I’m going to tell my probation officer about this, and my alcohol councillor, and my drugs councillor, all of this, I’m going to say I’d rather be in jail., the straw that what said the woman beside in a half shriek., broke the camels’ back., and he recounts again the details of the scene before while all along behind him over his shoulder I can see his saviour hanging on the wall., his saviour was in a frame on the wall, it was some tie that someone had lent him for the court case he had recently attended and got off with community service, although it was a big dose of it, somewhere in the region of two or three hundred hours of CS. The tie was badly framed. Someone had used a staple gun and too much silver rig tape to force the frame shut. They had managed not to crack the glass but still the knot in the tie bulged out at the back corner. In a bad and clearly drunken attempt at some sort of calligraphy some idiot had scrawled “milligan’s saviour” above the tie with an arrow pointing at the tie as though no one would guess it referred to the tie and not the picture frame. Also in the frame was a news paper cut out of the article in the local press titled “pot factory to fuel drug habit busted”… well, that was about what happened. Things were beginning to look up for milligan of late though because recently he had managed to get himself on an educational course instead of doing the community service. It was more than one could believe though to know that the course he had got himself onto was a horticultural course… so it has transpired that the government is paying milligan to go on a course to teach him to grow plants better because he got busted growing dope, a lot of dope in fact, nearly a hundred plants under lights. Milligan laughed that he could probably teach them something about growing techniques… is that karma or what he says? It shouldn’t even be fucking illegal!But right now Milligan is still spitting about this guy who had passed out in the urinal complaining about the flooding, jesus, what kind of cess pit is this place he said? Looking at the manager…The frame didn’t last long on the wall. Later that night milligan tore it off to rack up lines of coke on, then took it home as a memento…I guess he had a point.

London Sqwats

गराज स्कॉट्स a.k.a. gArAge squAts., east end london., c/o : the deep blue dream.,
The Martyrdom of the GarAge squAt…Everywhere pockets of autonomy, not in space so much as in time today, but is freedom just to give it all away, to hold no value against it other than the joy of its escape? With the endless increase in technological surveillance and control, all satellites of some vague philosophy centred about so called security at the cost of civil liberties and ultimately personal freedom, almost all space has been lost to the equally vague Authorities,.. with the cones of its all seeing eye everywhere, CCTV, the military, the police, the community wardens and support officers, the helicopters, unmanned drones, the star wars space race the nuclear arms etc…the over zealous sexually perverted headmaster with his cane leaning over the young boy bent before him with arse bared for the beating to come, thrash thrash thrash rings his cane as he beats the boy, welcome to my world boy, thrash, thrash, are you sorry yet, thrash thrash and outside, in the corridor the timid, curious other boys listen through the closed study door,..thrash thrash as a self righteous non-smoker boards another jet plane and the hypocrisy is Rude, and rife.But there are always enclaves in this tight web of control, and under a rail way bridge in the east end of London I thought that maybe I had found one, but martyrdom is never distinct from the law it sacrifices itself in the face of, and yet why the admiration for the martyr by all peoples..? is it because the martyr re-affirms every notion that he apparently rails against, proving that ultimately resistance is futile..? by his death does he become one of the very pillars of injustice that he rallied against? Does the immortality he is gifted in return for his martyrdom over shadow the meaning of his life…is the meaning of his life translated or re-branded in death to re-affirm all that he stood against in life..?The martyrdom of the garage squAt : the garage under the train bridge is a dusty dry cement place, with a high ceiling where the pigeons roost and breed their strange swollen footed young, those crazed pirate souls that plunder the city right under the noses of the people, so relentless that there is no defence against their tide, cleaning up the loose crumbs and change, dissolving the wasted. Under the bridge there are carpets, laid out on the concrete, sleeping bags are stacked neat in a corner, and here sat squatting on their heels are these figures in the warm summer dusk passing about the tin foil chalice, chasing its tail back into their minds, chasing it into their own receding genius, always a chase, always on the run until it’s the sudden silence of the perfectly emptied, a perfect non-action, all things weighed against the depth of the flight within, that manic need to internalise the whole unfathomable world, it’s a kind of replacement for the daily loss and loss of pride and the way this city world sneers at a homeless man, a replacement for the quite shame and the trying never to think of home, or families, or meals at kitchen table, or a whole universe of things that the people who sneer at the homeless forget to be thankful for, and so here in the twilight that rejection plays itself out, here squatting in this dusty dry cement place, and the flame darkens at its tip and the glitter mirror of the foil makes a dark glow, and in the dim light you can see the figures eyes go out, just as the streets lights start to come on outside, and so another night begins in the train bridge garage squat. And more people arrive, talking excitedly about the days raids, the begging borrowing stealing, the prices of canned larger, the giro payments, the parks and what happened where, and why maybe, who’s that someone will say, he did what.. and the chatter is not hurried as the little chalices appear in the hands and the pipes chase the fumes and the talk is not hurried., then a quiet settles as all are contentedly unwrapping sleeping bags, maybe rolling a cigarette, then very quickly those who wander the streets at night leave, while others sleep., and there I laid down on the damp carpet and slipped into the dream haze of the silent cinema of my eyes.,I wake early, chilled to the bone and numb feeling all over despite it being july and a hot summer. The sun is only just stretching its first blue grey tentacles of day across the street outside and there hangs in the air the strange unexplainable feeling of calm in a busy city, and the day is still translucent it seems.D__ is still asleep, his head inside the sleeping bag with only a few thick locks of his hair showing at the top., somehow it is a comfort to see him rest so peaceful, yet still I get up and walk out onto the street and smoke a cigarette.Later D_ introduces me to a friend of his. D_ is Jamaican in origin and the soft drawl of his voice is quite charming. She is a young looking girl, who is laughingly telling us how she sold her shoes to someone on Brick Lane for a ten pound note. She is high now, flying and dancing about in black socks with silver flecks on them. The silver flecks dazzle in the bright sunlight. Soon she is settled and says not a word for hours. Her eyes are heavy with large rings that hang right down into her hollowing cheeks. She has an almost innocent air to her I think as we sit on a park bench drinking cans of lager, till she turns to me suddenly and out of the blue asks if I want a blowjob for a tenner, or anal, she adds as an afterthought as though judging my secret tastes, for twenty. I refused. She looked almost sad, not offended by disappointed not to get another note… I looked down at her small feet wriggling in the dirt under the park bench, the silver sparkles less bright as the evening was settling, and the sun was a feeling instead of a blasting force. There was a game of football later, and many people came from all over to play. It was a great event, half of the players running about with cans of beer in their hands. D_ scored a disputed goal, there were cigarette buts like a carpet on the thin dry grass, the park is surrounded by grey buildings full of windows with colourful laundry hanging from the small balconettes, some had green plants, the air was thick and dusty., and all the while the Square Mile is only ten minutes walk from here. I kept thinking of her socks as we played and she sat on the bench drinking my beer, but I didn’t care about the beer, I had another can in my hand.These hot streets harbour a lost masses, children of Babylon (..?) or just the freak products of a melting pot where grief and friendship are spontaneous without great long complicated histories, where theft and generousity wear the same coat and where innocence is not conspicuous even in the face of all the vices.

theatre mask.

they met outside a café. The benches outside were swarming with people smoking and drinking, laughing and moving about. It was colourful, bright and had a hectic sense of relaxation. She was smoking a hand rolled cigarette, and was looking the other way down the road as he approached. Her long black hair tapered to a point half way down her back and was every now and now shifting from the light wind with a few strands caught up in the air. She had thick heavy hair he smiled to himself. He could see, even from behind that she was waiting, expecting, he could tell by the way she held her shoulders and smoked her cigarette in quick nervous puffs, almost pneumatically. She jumped slightly as he touched her shoulder saying “heya”“oo”, she recovered “I think you’re late?”“let me see that” he said pointing at her watch.“there” she said with a feigned triumph, “you see five minutes late”“ oh no my dear” he said also with a feigned emphasis, looking at the clock tower behind her, “its slow, which means that you are late as well…”“ah” she exclaims again with a mock horror and she’s grinning – “anyway, my love, how are you”“not as good, haven’t seen you for an age, wherever have you been darling? I missed you.”“good, but I’ve been here…”“here, here? Really, I’ve passed this way by ‘here’ so many times and I never once saw you!”“not here here, I mean here in the city, I’ve not been away.”“yes, I know just teasing”“as ever..” she said smiling coyly.“so what have you been doing then anyway, off on another one of your feminist tantrums I bet.”“feminist tantrums!!” she says holding back a smile, “feminist tantrums, you know I don’t do tantrums, I just don’t do them!” she said inflating herself and pouting her lips devilishly, “tantrums, I’ve never had tantrums…”“I mean exclusively seeing your lady friends, spending all your time theorising over cups of bloody mochas and …”“mochas! I don’t do mochas, lattes dear, I do lattes,“of course you do, sorry”“and anyway, that would make two of us, for no doubt you’ve been seeing plenty of your lady friends too,”“oh, ok, you win, but..”“and anyway, a latte is so much better than that gutter water lager you are always drinking…”“ok, but what have you been up to?”“ah well, a bit of that then I guess,” then smiling hard and more seductively “well, that’s exactly what I have been doing, spending all my time with lovely ladies of leisure, mmm” she said licking her lips deliberately and throwing the cigarette down in a flurry of hair and turning, “and wouldn’t you just love to know what all us ladies do after we’ve finished our lattes..”“well yes, actually I would..”“well I am afraid that that’s a secret, ladies’ pact, but what else am I to do if you simply disappear for weeks at a time…”“me, oh I’ve been very busy, and I knew you girls were up to your feminist tricks again..”“busy, ha, I know what your busy means…”still laughing they embrace tightly “I’ve missed you” he said, then suddenly she squeals as he pinches her behind,“yes, I know what you have been missing my dear, ““mm,” he says innocently looking down, “oh yes, I’ve been missing them too…”they walk into the café laughing, arms about each others’ waists.Some time later, as he spilled out of a busy late night club with the rest of the people, he saw her, stumbling out among the crowd.“hey cat” he called out to her, “how are you?”she turned slowly, narrowing her eyes to recognise him and then hissed “you bastard, fuck off.”“what?” he said dumbly, “wait a second babe..”“you bastard” she said over her shoulder as she began to walk away, but he caught her by the wrist, it was thin and soft in his grip, “what’s up, hey, what’s ..”“you bastard, I loved you, I though you loved me, leave me alone you bastard..”she broke free and went to run across the road but he pulled her back again just before she went into a taxi driving past, “taxi.” She shouted, “taxi, fucking taxi..”, it didn’t stop, “oh fuck you then.. fuck you..”“what’s wrong?” he is asking,“I’m leaving,” she said defiantly, “I’m leaving in two days and then you’ll never see me again, o.k., now leave me alone.,” but she was beginning to cry, the thought of leaving her alone did streak across his mind but her tears were real enough and so he pulled her and held her closer to him, she nuzzled her wet face in his shoulder, still whispering bastard, you bastard, bastard, then suddenly she broke free, he made no effort to stop her this time, he understood, and just stood and watched her stumble half run down the road until she disappeared into the crowd again, but at the last moment she turned to him and mouthed the words you bastard one more time, he understood., she was gone.love and poison are the two roses red and white:but in the end nothing of them will be leftfor love is but a form of innocent theft,and poison, in all its naked and intoxicating artstastes sweetest, only, to the unbroken heart…

moral turpitude...

Recently the author Sebastian Horsley was denied access to the USA to launch his new book (Dandy in the Underground) on the grounds of “moral turpitude”. A confused Horsley complained that he was “feeling quite well” and went on to point out that “I’ve never drunk turpentine in my life.” (Reuters)Perhaps Horsley had missed something for the US state dept. defines moral turpitude for the purposes of refusing someone entry to the USA as being “conduct that is considered contrary to community standards of justice, honesty, or good morals”.Or maybe Horsley hadn’t missed a thing. He has written an honest autobiography of life spent in the British underworld and it is a cautionary tale as much as anything else.Horsley had spent much of his life addicted to drugs, frequenting prostitutes and selling his own body as a rent boy. Well, at least he was no hypocrite as in the case of the recently resigned Governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer, who recently stepped down after being linked to a prostitution ring in his own state where he had campaigned for years to eradicate the “vice” of paying for sex.It seems that we are led to believe that Addiction to drugs for one is not to be seen in the same category as an addiction to the tenants of consumerism, shopping, eating fast food and drinking the coke (a large glass/mug/carton thing you can get in the USA contains up to 48 teaspoons of sugar in it…). A compulsion to fornicate – even with prostitutes – is seen as more degraded than someone who sits in front of porn all day/night long… now just what is going on… Addiction surely is addiction, and the problem of addiction lies not in the object of addiction but in the mind set of one who is addicted…to be addicted to one thing or another is as bad as being addicted to anything else, no matter who sells it or says that no one else can have any.So, as a community we have sanctioned advertisements all over the media that fundamentally seek to get people addicted to (their) product(s). Products that is, and lifestyles, that are sold for profits. Bottom line. And the aim of this is a life long “loyalty” to a brand or object. This goes for everything from food to services, from cosmetics to automobiles. Now, the root of the problem with addiction as far as one can rationally see it is that once addicted a person looses something of what it is to be free. To need to have one thing or other – beyond sustenance – removes an important element in the process of choice making and thereby reduces that person’s liberty. Is this not the real problem?To blindly belief that more is always better, even if that has to result in less for others, has got to be how the US State Dept would define a drug users dependence, where the user who has developed a compulsion (however irrational that may be…) to consume more of the said drug to get the same fix is in a vicious downward spiral. This can apparently justify in the mind of an addict stealing from another in order to fund that addiction. And often enough it is true to say that this theft from others does not even register on the moral compass of an addict.Now for honesty. Does the situation described not fit just about every single body who has bought into the great American dream? I will do all in my power to increase my material lot even at the expense of my neighbour would be a good enough motto for any good true upstanding American. At the extreme end of this madness you have certain Christians who believe that there is only so much room in heaven and that everybody else will burn for eternity in hell suffering to extents that are unimaginable in this life. These Christians will gloat openly throughout their lives about this imagined fact; well, I can’t wait to meet them all in hell…Remember that the State Dept defines moral turpitude in terms of Community justices etc. Community not Ideological…The great American dream is harmful to communities. Something like 30% of Americans do Not have full or any health cover. The American dream has created a society where if you are rushed to hospital in an emergency the first thing that doctors may do is check your wallet for credit cards… the American dream has created a society that has recently sanctioned the use of torture within its system of justice. The American dream has created a society that accepts racist foreign and domestic policy. The American dream has created a society where the Statue of Liberty is closed to the public until further notice.The American dream has created a society that has denied an author access to its country on the grounds of his apparent moral deviations from their own little understood beliefs. Whatever this is reminiscent of is unimportant in some ways. What is important is that it is happening and it is being allowed to happen. America seems to be suffering a great deal at this time, it is engaging itself and its people in illegal and morally corrupt wars world wide for the sake of Profit and Oil and Power and to bolster its massive Defence Industry (note on doublethink - for defence please read Attack), it has eroded what was one of the finest constitutions in recorded history as well as run itself bankrupt. Although we do need sympathy for this falling star, we also need to be realistic and portray this monster in its true image.So here’s to hoping that Horsley does eventually get to visit, and that his book does help a broken people understand themselves better, and maybe even come off the terrible drugs that so many of our cousins across the Atlantic are suffering so much while on.The incident in itself is minor. It is not significant in itself – or at least in the context of all things considered. It is, however another straw in what is rapidly becoming an unlit bonfire, and when it does flare up – probably by some trivial incident such as this one just described – it will go up in roaring unforgiving flames leaving nothing but ashes. But maybe all we can hope is that as well as those ashes some memories remain such as the ideas of True Liberty that once underpinned a beautiful American Dream.

the statue of liberty is closed until further notice...

The Statue of Liberty is Closed Until Further Notice…

“The current access patterns reflect a responsible management strategy in the best interests of all our visitors,” says the out-going Park Service Director, Fran Mainella; which is to say that the Statue of Liberty is closed to the public, and is seemingly to remain closed to the public until further notice.A citizen is able to enter the statue but only to climb as far as the pedestal, or the statue’s toes; with the crown and the stairway up inside the body itself being out of bounds. The importance is of course that this statue is hollow, and without people ascending its stairs to her crown it remains just that, a hollow and people-less idea.The Statue of Liberty is a symbol of Freedom and Opportunity, of the Hopes and Dreams of not only the American people but of all people who aspire to be great in the face of all the odds. Its closure, since 9/11 2001, is a significant symbolic gesture. In fact Senator Charles Schumer has gone so far as to couch this debate in explicit terms having said, “In this case, freedom has given way to fear”. Well perhaps Senator Schumer, perhaps…but however we look at it, the 21st Century truly began on that day…It is critical to realize that nationalism or the tendancy towards it is not only a positive feeling. In the positive – by way of example to illuminate the difference – one may feel an attachment to a nation, England say, or an ethnic or racial group, as is demonstrated in the all black oscar awards for instance. However, on the more foul side of such tendencies and feelings is the negative; whereby a group feels bound together simply by a collective hatred or fear of another group or ideology.This kind of sentiment has two major aspects. Firstly, it inclines a slackness of moral thought, whereby WE are good on the basis of THEM being bad. They are always bad, and so by virture, we, being good, must always be good, regardless of what we actually do. So, when we bomb an urban area and the generals report that “collateral damage” was fairly high, we fail to see this as a crime against humanity, we fail to see that the killing of innocent civilians is wrong, and that even terming the death of a civilian as “collateral damage” is wrong; but because it is US doing it to THEM, and since they are bad then we are good, anything we do must be to further goodness… To labour this point somewhat, the overall hysteria and frantic rage that was built up and surrounded the deaths of those 3000 or so innocents in the World Trade Centre attacks is grossly disproportionate to the feelings of regret over the deaths of nearly 1 million Iraqi civilians (remember that the invasion was partly justified as a retaliation to the attacks on the Twin Towers). This negative type of nationalism produces the same results as scape-goating does. It allows rage and hatred to be vented without actually necessitating any change in the behaviour of those that are doing the hating.This was at the forefront of politics in the McCarthy era, the era of the Communist witch hunts, where again the burden of proof fell upon the accused and people arrested were encouraged to ‘name names’ of other potential communists… In this era, the enemy is the ‘terrorist’, and more specifically the Islamic terrorist, with everyone a suspect until somehow they prove themselves innocent. And this burden of proof seems to remain in place even while the suspected are locked in concentration camps without charge, little legal access and with the prospect of a closed, juryless trial ahead of them. The very existence of a camp such as that at Guatanamo bay ought to be enough for the civilized nations of the world to scrap any existing treaties with the American administration, begin an immediate boycott of all USA exports to the world, and seek to enforce the international laws upon those responsible for behaviours and policies that would not have been out of place in the Third Reich of the 1940s…Another aspect of this slackening of moral thinking and accuracy of thought can be seen in the slogans of the day (as well as in the slogans of repressive governments of the past), all hollow and meaningless. Support the troops for instance, is about as meaningless as oil your weapons, or, change your socks… it is something that in itself is right, and no body can have an objection to, for of course any good hearted and decent person will support the troops (who are people after all..) just as they would support the teachers or the train drivers. The sinister use of this slogan is that it has been used as a pro war slogan, as a slogan meant to divide and not bring together. That is to say that those who are against the war in Iraq are accused of not supporting the troops, something which does not go down well. And so those in favour of the war have the ammunition that the anti-war lobby does not support the troops giving further cause to avoid rational debate or dialogue regarding the facts of the situation… It is often missed that the people who are looking out most for troops are those who are resolutely against a war for oil, where people’s lives are being lost, given and taken for the sake of the profit margins of a few companies closely tied to the White house and the Pentagon. Rationally speaking, a slogan such as support the troops ought to be an anti-war slogan, but here again is an example of the twisted world view that is brought about by such negative nationalistic feeling.Through slogans of this type the identity of the US is strengthened further through the identification of those who are not US. This of course is deliberate, and is nothing new. Perhaps a slightly unusual comparison to make, but none the less valid as an illustrative tool, would be to the marketing campaign of the 50s engineered by Edward Bernays, whereby in order to break the taboo of women smoking and thereby open up a large new market for the tobacco companies, Bernays organised a march of cheer leader type girls through New York with banners saying “smoke for Freedom”. This meant anyone objecting to the women smoking now was branded as one who was against women having equal rights, rather than objecting to the shameless use of a serious political issue of the day to promote the benefits of big business.The second important aspect of this type of negative nationalism is that the group involved are very easily manipulated and the politicians doing the manipulating need have no coherent policy or objective, and need only satisfy immediate requirements for the hatred and fear of the OTHER group to continue. Helpfully as well, the other group needn’t be too specific, and any perceived enemy of the state can be added without any contradiction to the group of the OTHER, with no any real or rational justification. A person can be accused simply of being one of THEM, and no evidence is needed for such a claim if through the media and other channels of communication their name can be sufficiently tarnished…Hence we see groups being suddenly added to the list of international terrorist organisations who were trading and dealing quite normally with Western governments until their expulsion, generally for reasons unknown to the public at large, while other groups, generally those who cooperate with the military plans of the West, Pakistan for instance, are embraced and heralded as heroes in the war of terror when to all extensive purposes they are criminals of the highest order. Pakistani human rights records are appalling, and the country was run until very recently by a tight knit military dictatorship that has only changed since then in name and not in actually reality.To return to our Senator’s observation of how freedom has given way to fear now… a group caught up in the hysteria of negative nationalism displays all the characteristics of a cornered animal, and will attack without thought if its escape is blocked. A population constantly on red alert, fearing the imminent attack, divided and insecure with no apparent escape from the endless torrent of media and political speculation endlessly reminding it that its fate walks a knife edge is a population that is easy to manipulate quickly and without proper rationale. Ironically maybe, the group that is scape-goated also begin in their turn to behave like cornered animals, and so we are left with a situation of two cornered animals facing each other…Against a background of this type of negative nationalism all kinds of repressive actions are to be justified, phones can tapped, databases kept on those who attend anti-war rallies and demonstrations, restrictions in the civil liberties of a nation’s population, biometric ID cards, increased stop and search powers and of course the limitations of the powers of the judicial system and the limiting of basic human rights; and all can be justified with respect to the apparent increased need for tighter security to protect against the evils of THEM (and evil is not too an extreme a word to use, remember we are at war with the axis of evil…). However, any sane or reasonable person can see that the two – ie security and freedom are unrelated in the sense implied by the draconian measures of the western democracies. Similar to the divisive thinking behind the slogans, no-one would wish for innocent people to be killed in terrorist attacks but by reducing the freedoms of people targeted by those attacks will not reduce their effects or probability, particularly with the cases of the so called home grown terrorist. A little off the point but worth remembering is the fact that as the Nazis clamped down harder and harder on the French resistance it did not stop them, in fact it only encouraged them to continue to fight against that repressive and cruel regime. And well that they did.The closure of the Statue of Liberty will fire up a rage in the hearts of many Americans, and will be symbolic act elsewhere too, and of course the answer given to this rage will be Blame Them, its not our fault, but the fault of our Enemies, further entrenching the negative nationalism we discussed before. And those in power will have the job of simply channelling that rage to what or whoever it suits them to even when it is quite irrational.The Lyrical Terrorist escapes jail with a Suspended Sentence…A 24 year old Muslim woman who had worked in the Heathrow airport escaped a jail sentence and got off with a suspended 18 month sentence and was ordered to carry out 100 hours of unpaid work we learnt on the 7th December 2007. She had called herself the lyrical terrorist, as an on-line persona, because she had written poetry that was anti-western and anti the US, some of that poetry described and called for the beheading of non-believers; also she was alleged to have printed information from the Internet which together with the poetry was deemed to be likely to be useful for terrorism… Samina Malik had done nothing wrong, at least criminally, and one can only conclude that she had committed a so called thought crime… In a society where freedom of expression is valued then she has the categorical right to create such poetry – despite its evident bad taste and lack of literary skill – and also the right to read and collect any information that happens to be in the public domain.This young woman’s poem was no great piece of art work as I have tried to stress, in fact it has hardly any artistic merit whatsoever and can only be seen akin to self harming and other destructive behaviours, however, to my mind at least, neither does the work of Damien Hirst or the Chapman brothers (respectively cutting a shark in half or mutilating original Goya prints with cartoon sketches of Mickey Mouse…) or any number of other contemporary artists making a very healthy living today…Freedom of expression cannot be restricted and it is as simple as that, and anyone who seeks to restrict the most basic freedoms of thought and expression is an enemy of the free world, of free people and of freedom itself and these individuals must be seen in that light with no mitigating circumstances being able to revoke that judgment for it is the most basic fact. Human rights are non-negotiable.This case only highlights the potential for the irrational and damaging outcomes of this environment of whipped up Fear and channelled false Hatred. It seems that Samina Malik is a victim, not a criminal. It appears that she has lost the right to freedom of expression and the freedom of association – both enshrined in the human rights laws that the UK is a signatory to. The only way to explain this is that those in positions to do otherwise were swayed from rational thinking by this poisonous environment that we are creating around us. For thinking rationally again, how could an angsty young woman’s poor attempts at literature truly present a threat to a nation, or truly be useful to a terrorist or terrorist organisation..?Freedom of expression also has another side. To be able to act properly information must be available. In fact, a premise of democracy is that those in power are honest with those that they serve. To create a divisive environment fermenting with fear and hatred is not conducive to reasoned thought or action, nor is it serving the best interests of the electorates. It can be concluded that more than anything the endless streams of misinformation and hashed logic that is pushed down the throat of the average person is perhaps the greatest threat to freedom of expression. When a person is enraged, full of hatred and confused in their fearful state their reason will often abandon them, and their expressions will not be free in the sense that they have been manipulated to be as they are by a whole series of false queues that trigger an intended reaction, rather like a puppet.And so against this background, any victory that we are told that we have achieved in this war by the same people who have consistently deceived and divided us, will remain as hollow a symbol of victory as the Statue of Liberty is of freedom until it is once again opened to the public. However, the Statue of Liberty remains closed, and those in the positions to affect real change in the crushing environment that is being created across the globe continue to lie and deceive their electorates, they continue to refer to the deaths of civilians as “collateral damage” and continue to maintain and fill concentration camps in the name of freedom, and ultimately, they show no signs of changing their ways, and so, it appears that the Statue will remain closed until further notice is given by the authorities; unless, of course, the people of the world take it upon themselves to reopen it…

thoughts on torture., c/o anon.en.tity .,

In the united states of America torture has been redefined as physical pain that would be equivalent to the loss of limb (amputation without anaesthetic), organ failure or death. That is to say that unless an organ fails, you loose a limb or actually die, it does not constitute torture per se.This means that water boarding lies within the system of justice in the USA if it is necessary to use in order to get a confession. Water boarding for those of you who do not know these things (I envy those of you who do not.,) simulates drowning. So from this we can safely draw the conclusion that acts which simulate death do not, in the USA, constitute torture.Before we continue, let us just state for the record that torture is always and everywhere wrong. Never is it justified. No matter what the situation it is wrong to press the human spirit in such a way as to deliberately make it break. No other human has this right over any other, no matter how one can define another.Torture is the ultimate hate crime and by far worse than summary executions.That the USA has sanctioned the use of torture as a part of its judicial system tells the on-looker several things. Firstly, the judicial system is immoral. Secondly, those responsible for these changes in the judicial system are morally corrupt. Thirdly, the judicial system of that country is not applicable to any nation that does not allow torture in the process of getting a confession; but more importantly any evidence obtained through the use torture ought not to be admissible in any court of law that is against torture. This means that the so called terrorists that have admitted to crimes under duress, or under torture, should not be seen as terrorists in countries that do not allow torture, and they should be given asylum to protect them from the judicial system of the USA.To torture somebody is not just academic or legal jargon that has no relation to the real world. It is a deliberate and concentrated act of cruelty that requires a level of dislocation from reality that begs belief. Ask yourself how far you could go…how much could you break a person..?anon.en.tity.,

notes to the sports desk from soho.,

the Chinese super gourmet buffet king…

Emerging from the underground it’s Soho. On G___ Street, a small street leading off the main drag is an Italian basement bar. The main drag of soho is too seedy in a FHM magazine style way to worth the time of any real trooper, too many boys running around in satin tops and eyeliner living the dream as they brush close to the collosal bouncers at the doors of the clubs, so tootling off the main drag it's G___ Street, where behind an unmarked door down plain white stairs past no bouncers or door staff then down an unlit corridor is small almost desk like bar, serving only wine and spirits so its a whisky and water then swivelling on the balls of my feet to face the crowded tiny bar room dim lighting perfect for my already over stretched retina, full of the night, and there’s a dark young man sitting with an accordion crushing that little box till its croaking out classic french style jazz refrains and i'm thinking there's no end to the wonders in this city; the walls are plastered with photos of the popes and also film star gangsters, Al Capone etc. but also humphry bogart and others., the crowd here is friendly and noisy, its cheap red wine on most lips and out back where it is the smoking it’s a carnival…Leaving this, i stumble on down the roads, not knowing where it is am going in particular, just following the feel of my feet down the street, loving the night around, loving the people flowing by like a stream that i dip my feet into, then out and on, then into again, its been a long one, perhaps 40 or 50 hours on the go, and i know i need some food, some temporary sanctuary before returning to the east end of the city this night,.. i look up and find myself in china town, and walk cheerfully into the Chinese super gourmet buffet king, which is near on a shack. The grease soaked in-door stalls are putrid, and there’s some grinning little Chinese women dressed in a filthy black frock, the yellowing stains all down her front shimmer in the reddish light that floods in the tall windows from the street outside, coating the dingy air inside with its disgusting aura. Perfect i think as i fish in my pocket to find a lot of coins and tobacco floating about, it feels heavy and as i pay a few pounds cash to the old duck i am grinning at the thought of some good heavy food in exchange, and then i am given a tin foil box and ushered towards the stand with the food, where i can fill this tin foil box with the swimming bits of meat in oil, rice and soggy looking sagging vegetables, and the stick damp air is full of the sickly sweet scents of cheap sauces, perfect i think again as i begin to stuff the box, crushing the rice into a cake at the bottom, jamming noodles, bits of unnameable meat and vegetables into it too, but as i proceed there is suddenly next to me this busty black woman, licking her lips, prodding at my trousers, asking what’s this, mmm, what’s this, what should i eat and she tugs at my belt,.. i turn at her with eyes still betraying the past 24 hrs of the forgetting and something snaps, i literally feel it go in my belly, and she’s still pulling at my belt, the hustling little whore, and i crack, what the fuck do you take me for, a fucking Chinese chef..? go suck grease somewhere else, suck what she shouts, pushing at me, causing the sauce to spill over the tin foil box onto my white/grey shirt cuffs, and now her friend who I hadn’t even seen till then is joining in too, just give her a fiver mate, just give her a fiver you tight cunt,.. tight cunt i said amazed and taken aback by the nasty yapping things at my shoulder..and the old Chinese woman is waddling over now, looking perplexed but firm in resolve, waddling like some demented crispy fried duck, and by now i’m just hearing white noise, the blood it feels is seeping from everywhere and bursting into my skull and still its just give her a fiver giver a fiver mate, i look down at her exposed cleavage, just a fiver mate, come on, and she’s still tugging at my god dam belt, and then glancing at the door, i hold onto my trilby as i launch the tin foil box at the two hussies, full of oily meat, vegetables and rice, and i see it in slow motion, as though savouring that meal as i ate it, seeing the noodles slip down her fat cleavage, the oil on her shoulder, the sauce on her friends face, and then in a second i am out the door and hurtling down the street through the crowds, until suddenly i stop, a taxi is passing and the white noise is gone, i wave it down, get in and say please, just out of china town, out of Soho, so go, go, and we pull of effortlessly. i look around to see the two woman and the squawking duck on the street, shouting obscenities, like police and cunt and bastard, and a few other people are loitering too just wondering perhaps, and i am smiling looking back forward again in the taxi, sinking into the soft black back seat, what happened back there mate, said that driver evidently half amused at my state, oh, i said, just a problem with the meat, under-cooked you know,.. and in a second i have Evaporated into another city second, into the thick time fog that closes like a curtain at the end of a show to faithfully hide the actors undressing backstage,..