Friday, May 04, 2001

Mayday "protest" went without what turned out to be plastic bullets. Found out what it would be like to be forced to stand in a major crossroads, with not very much space, surrounded by police, for a few hours. There was a diaphonous band of photographers, kids looking for a ruck or something to do, socialists and non-committal anti-something unreactionaries who responded best to the chant "we want out". Quite.

Ted Rogers is dead - before the ink on the obituaries had dried, my hand was seizing up in a strange empathetic gesture. No more manual dexterity, for me nor Ted.

Carlos Castaneda and the teachings of Don Juan bring a little perspective into one's life, though the path of the sorcerer seems to be a little committed. If you're getting old, time to start flexing those styles. Probably worth studying first. Check them here.

In a world where death is the hunter, my friend, there is no time for regrets or doubts. There is time only for decisions.
Don Juan

Monday, April 30, 2001

The new Guardian Weekend is shit. The glossy paper reflects the light. I saw Julie Burchill on the television last night. She winced as she looked at me directly then spat her high-pitched comments on Wham! through the unforgiving and familiar 16-year-old tube. Perhaps I will get a little smashy on Tuesday. If I can find the London Tonight crew filming, ain't nobody going home.

It makes you wonder - what's it like, being tear gassed?

Crazy low-fi kung-fu.

Sunday, April 29, 2001

Mayday in London is on Tuesday. People seem to have it marked down as some sort of looting extravaganza. A smashing carnival. Expressions of dissent are so important, they need to increase in frequency. Life should be molded by expressive behaviour.

I shall be there. With bells on. Work on Wednesday. Working in the city.

Like the Samurai, identify with the enemy. has been set to mental.