Deşteaptă-te Române.

Taică-miu avea o vorbă: “Fii dişteaptă”. Vedeţi voi, titlul imnului nostru nu are de-a face doar cu somnul. Nu. Ne îndeamnă in aceaşi măsură şi la înţelepciune, la lepădarea unui văl.

Duminică votăm, chiar dacă unii nu votăm, toţi facem o alegere conştientă în acest sens. Am mai scris despre asta aici. (necesită capacitate de concentrare de 10 minute)

Trăim un moment în istoria modernă plin de convulsii, unul în care valorile sunt întoarse cu susul in jos iar adevărul contează din ce in ce mai puţin, câştigă cel cu limbajul celui mai mic numitor comun indiferent de conţinutul mesajului, motiv pentru care astăzi Trump si Brexit sunt realităţi.

Am râs de ei.

Duminică trebuie să punem stop neghiobiei, dispreţului şi minciunii. Trebuie să arătăm de ce suntem convinşi că în ciuda stereotipurilor de afară suntem mai buni. Trebuie să dăm un exemplu Europei, ţine de noi!

Acum doi ani am fost 54% pentru că ne-au enervat. Anul acesta şi-au învăţat lecţia şi pare că nu vor mai face nici o astfel de greşală.

Mergeţi la vot! Luaţi și pe alţii cu voi!.

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2016.

You wake up in the morning. You go to work, if it’s something you enjoy you work hard to get better, learn more and be more. If payday just came around you order out or go out and people watch and life takes you like that from one day to another and slowly you start feeling like maybe you have some semblance of a plan because everything is looking up and things are falling into place.

2016 started out that way. Brexit and the US elections were coming up but since, at least on a personal level I was feeling positive I thought everything would turn out OK, because we had learned our lessons and the world would finally show the far right that that century had passed and hatred and fear were no longer in our collective emotional vocabulary.

“Where do you see yourself five years from now?” – is a job interview cliche. Whenever I get asked that my answer is always “I’ll be looking back at my current self and seeing a person who doesn’t know anything about anything” and I think that is poignant now – in 2015 I knew nothing about how much people can hate, how much of an echo chamber I was living in, from the media I consume, to the people I associate myself with. But slowly but surely I felt xenophobia closing in.

My friends and I were in Britain the day after the Brexit vote. I was randomly selected for a few questions by airport security, not in a way that would’ve stopped someone with malicious intent but enough that it made me feel a little uncomfortable. Later in a pub I told this story to a stranger and he said “welcome to being black”. I’d never thought of myself as non white before, it just wasn’t ever an issue, but I guess I am a little tan as some Romanians are, but… what’s that got to do with anything?

Everyone in London was friendly, I loved it, the atmosphere though was uneasy, people were shocked about the outcome, and then England lost to Iceland and everything was no longer falling into place. A majority of people in a nation that had always been a part of Europe, on the forefront of every cultural shift that has impacted our continent had chosen to believe they would be better off on their own than working together with everyone else, for goals that are common.

Furthermore, a continent of seven hundred million people who live  the most secure and comfortable lives humanity has ever experienced, feels threatened by the influx of just one million others, who just want to take part in that, and maybe contribute in their way. We are horrified by the deaths of hundreds at the hands of madmen with an agenda but will not bat an eye about the eighty four thousand road deaths in Europe last year, which amounts to two Paris attacks daily . I decry how shortsighted we seem to be.

That said, Brexit hasn’t happened yet, and in a way I still cling to the hope that it won’t though the cynic in me can’t see a way for it not to.

Surely, I thought, seeing the reaction to this, America will come to its’ senses and do the right thing and say “no” to demagoguery, outright racism and misogyny. Surely, they remember the pain and the horror that all of this has brought before. Surely, they will act.

But no.

I wake up in the morning, with an empty feeling, that makes me nauseous. Everything is out of place, Leonard Cohen died, Brexit is still happening, and Trump is still President-elect of the United States of America.

 

 

Science.

A friend asked me what my philosophical beliefs are, how I feel about alchemy and astrology and whether I think there is a God. He didn’t know this site existed and so I pointed him toward my Post Christianity post.

His reply was that he understood me to be an atheist but that he felt that the question had not been answered fully and followed with whether or not I thought “so called science” had all the answers.

It was not the first time I have heard the term used and not the first time it struck me as indicative of a foregone conclusion. It was however the first time it really struck me as an oxymoron. (noun, plural oxymora [ok-si-mawruh, –mohruh],oxymorons. Rhetoric. 1. a figure of speech by which a locution produces an incongruous,seemingly self-contradictory effect, as in “cruel kindness” or “to make haste slowly.”.)

It is an oxymoron because it implies uncertainty, that is to say it describes science as something that is unreliable or hit or miss in some sense, but science is – ( noun 1. a branch of knowledge or study dealing with a body of facts or truths systematically arranged and showing the operation of general laws:). That is to say “so called science” is defined as unreliable knowledge. Knowledge is by definition a known quantity – hence, reliable.

The definition above relates to a single scientific discipline however, but in the context of our discussion it referred to the entirety of these disciplines in the same vein as the broader discussion going on globally – i.e. Science is the body of disciplines which encompass the study of the universe that surrounds us, from the very small to the very large, with branches such as physics, chemistry, biology, neuroscience, etc, all of which use mathematics to a great extent as a tool.

The “scientific method” – the method we employ in order to discover new science (knowledge) relies on experiments that can be independently performed by anyone with the means and inclination to do so, whose results are published for all to see and critique. This ensures that all conclusions are thoroughly verified and tested before they are accepted as truths. What’s more they are repeated to ensure that the results and therefore the conclusions of those results are reliable by means of standard deviation. This method has evolved to be more and more reliable over the past two centuries and the fact that you can read this text on an LCD screen is part of the tangible evidence of its’ reliability

So where’s the philosophy in all this Kirk? you’re going off on another rant.

Well, now the questions become “Does science as described above have all the answers?” and if “No”, “Is there any merit to Alchemy and Astrology, or even a religious philosophical system?”

Well the short answer to the first question is a simple “No”. Why? because we have only been at it for a very short time, and the universe is really big, and a lot is happening in it. Furthermore most of the time that we have been asking questions about it, our tools were limited to our own eyes and our mind, so one could say we have only been at it seriously since the Renaissance.
What’s more, there are unanswerable questions: “Is there a God?”. God is defined as a supernatural being that is to say, beyond nature, or above the plane of nature – the universe. If God exists we cannot measure it, if we could measure it (by implanted vision or talking or praying) that would imply its’ pertaining to the universe and thus not supernatural. Even if the interaction is one way say, from God to us, that still means it can be part of the universe and so a subject to its’ laws which again violates its’ supernatural definition. If a God does not exist, we have no, and will never have means of knowing this with any degree of certainty because of the nature of the definition.
There are also nonsensical questions: “What happened before the Big Bang?”. The Big Bang is an event which created the space-time continuum, so the question is equivalent to “What is south of the South Pole?” At the South Pole, all directions are North. Asking the question is like trying to divide by 0 – nonsense.

So we cannot conclusively answer the “Is there a God?” question, so let’s instead shift it to something that we could possibly tackle with a few more questions.

“Is it possible there is a God?” – “Yes” – it is certainly possible, if we define anything as being supernatural i.e. not beholden to the laws of the universe (known or not) then that concept is possible, like the Flying Spaghetti Monster. The issue with this is that God is defined as being the primal source, prime cause or the more archaic prime mover but even the question of “Is God there?” subordinates its existence to the concept of truth and the very idea that God is subordinate to anything makes the entire concept collapse making God’s existence more and more unlikely.

To conclude this answer, in my view, the existence of a God is irrelevant, and the pursuit of an answer to an unanswerable question is a waste of time.It is irrelevant because if it does exist, we cannot interact by definition and so it cannot communicate with us and vice versa, no communication results in no influence and thus no relevance – it would be nice to know, but we can’t, so why bother when our lifespans are limited? furthermore why dedicate our lives to something that is impossible to be sure of when we could instead pursue concepts that come with some benefit.

“Alright, what about Alchemy and Astrology, why are they pseudo-science”. We defined science as something that is known, rigorously. So, what makes a pseudo-science.

Alchemy is the process of transmuting a substance into another by way of chemical reaction and/or incantations, it was the precursor to the modern science of chemistry. While Alchemy was able to observe correlations between certain interactions (Vitriol transmutes metals into salts) and their effects, it could not explain the underlying mechanism that lead to those effects and so results were, understandably, unreliable. They thought they knew something because certain predictions came true, but they did not understand why or how so… pseudo-science. Eventually alchemists became chemists as the mechanisms of reactions became more and more understood making alchemy obsolete in its’ use to pursue facts about the natural world.

Astrology is the study that assumes and attempts to interpret the influence of heavenly bodies on human affairs. Astrology relies on correlations between astronomical positions of planets and stars and human behavior and psychology (i.e. if Jupiter is in this constellation such and such will happen to you or your psychology). This is a fallacy. Correlation does not imply causation as shown here. Astrology has not produced a theory (read a system of proofs) by which the correlations it presents as fact come to be. They think they know something because certain predictions come true but they do not understand how or why so… pseudo-science.

 

As a rational being I try my best to base my decisions on the best approximation of truth that I can. Neither religion, alchemy or astrology provide anything close to the best approximation, let alone truth.

Six Degrees of Separation and politics.

Six or fewer steps along the lines of “of a friend of a friend” separate you from me, or any other person in the world for that matter, yes including the kid from “sceptical third world kid“, look it up, it’s interesting.

With that in mind, if you are in any way familiar with Romania, or just took a passing glance at European news this past few days, you will know that last Friday something bad happened. At last count 32 people have died as a result of a fire in a night club, and more than 100 people were injured, a large percentage of whom are in a bad way.

Now, I don’t personally know any of them. But I do know people who did, and who have been touched in a very personal way by what happened. The entire nation is touched in some way – how could they not be. Tragedies happen all the time all over the world – boats capsize in the Mediterranean, people get shot in Syria but this time it’s close to home.

I was talking to a friend the other day who said its’ a rather hypocritical response given the amount of suffering in the world, to so energetically mourn just these people, and I suppose in the grand scheme of things that would be true, save for six degrees of separation.

So if emotion can be carried as a form of radiation in this… we’ll call it a field of human relationships (don’t read too much into the metaphor, it breaks down horribly after a while) it’s only natural for the effects of an event to measure higher if your measurement instrument is closer – that doesn’t necessarily mean African refugees don’t matter, it’s just that it’s farther away in the web – we don’t decry the potential destruction of civilisations when Type 1A supernovae occur, we just use them as standard candles to measure astronomical distances, and we don’t call that cynical, even though on an absolute scale – it is.

Speaking of cynicism.

What happened, as far as we know (the inquiry is still under way), is that small fireworks used on stage by a band ignited the soundproofing on a support pillar which then set the soundproofing on the ceiling on fire, chaos ensued and people were injured and died.

For this set of circumstances to come to be, several things have to occur. First someone has to have an idea to start a club, for this they need a company which they have to register and get the relevant local government approvals. For the local government approvals to be possible a national legislature has to pass laws to that effect. These laws have to be enforced by local and national authorities, otherwise they are worthless.

In a country such as Romania of which I am a citizen, we have come to mistrust the rigor of this enforcement and (suppositions follow, take with a pinch of salt) the higher you go in the age pyramid, the more of a percentage of the population you will find who is not hostile to this state of fact, but rather content that this is an immutable part of who we are. The lower you go however, the more the idea becomes unpalatable.

Given the situation we can perhaps conclude (the jury is still out mind you) that several corners were cut in order to get the business going and to keep costs down and beer cheap enough that people would come, this included skimping on fireproofing and the use of flammable materials. Colectiv is one of many clubs in downtown Bucharest, and I contend that many if not all have done the same.

The owner is probably guilty and should go to prison. But he is not alone. In order for this appalling set of circumstances to converge several government officials in different branches would have had to either be exceedingly incompetent (which is guilt enough on its’ own), or corrupt, or both.

As of late the environment in the public square has been filled with the strong momentum of a national crusade on corruption, I would even venture to say that the seeds sown in 1989 into the body of this nation have started to mature into an actual backbone – people are protesting all kinds of things out in the streets, but corruption most of all, and most vigorously.

Since Friday night a silent hatred has been brewing. Thousands of people have been marching, giving more blood than ever before, getting involved on social media (the number of conspiracy theories is only an indicator I hope of the number of actually sane people who are actively participating) and as of the time of writing, 20.000 people by some reports are clamoring for the prime minister’s and the interior minister’s resignation in front of the Government Palace, and all around Bucharest, this nation has a voice that is growing from the proverbial grass’ roots.

The people out there tonight are making sure the friends of their friends did not die in vain, and I am proud.

Leg pain – and a girl.

I tore a calf muscle about a couple of weeks ago. Football is quite physical, and being a goal keeper doesn’t quite shield you from injury. About a week later I realized it was more than just sore muscles and the doctor said I probably have a tear, rest your leg, use ice to cope with the swelling and if it hurts too much, paracetamol is enough of a painkiller.

One never quite realizes how debilitating injuries can be until they are faced with the fact. Walking is an adventure. When it doesn’t quite hurt and you become a little bit overconfident your muscle twitches in strange ways, the pain is instant and punishing of any such transgression. There is no real treatment, aside from the aforementioned rest and ice packs. Ice is interesting, cold things hurt, and then strangely they start to burn I found out.

Suffice to say I’ve been living with varying amounts of leg pain for the past fortnight. My colleagues at work have taken to calling me dr. House and I am awaiting the cane I was promised in order to help with my recuperation.

Today I went to work for the first time, not having moved much beyond my studio door for the past few days. I really didn’t know what to expect but my leg and I had a deal, I would behave if it would behave in return. The walk to the subway took longer than usual, but the deal was working. He grumbled and twitched a little bit as I went down the two flights of stairs, I relented and used the handrail.

We’re good pals, my legs and I, we’ve been places and done things that most people on the train probably haven’t, it’s part of what got us in this little squabble, but not her, she looked different from the rest as she was getting ready to board the train. Sure she was short, but that backpack can’t have been light. Her cheeks were flushed with the spring sun still glinting into her blue eyes as she walked into the train. I leaned over to check my leg for painful spots as I do every now and again when a pair of feet appeared next to me. Light brown leather shoes, gently wrapped around slender ankles, no stalkings or socks.

I leaned back and there she was holding onto the bar, well this is odd I’m in the handicapped spot, my leg is a mess but I should probably leave her my seat when she refuses someone else. She is exceedingly pretty with her short brown hair tied up like that.

We somehow both noticed the kids next to us talking about their driving tests rather coarsely at around the same time. I caught her peaking at their phone, and she caught me catching her, and we didn’t let go for a few seconds, until people had to get off at the next stop and she maneuvered to remain in the same place despite her enormous backpack.

I knew the next stop was the exchange, I hoped she was headed for the train station and not the airport and would linger on for another few minutes. I pushed myself to look again and there she was looking back blinking now and again, once for every new digit in my heart rate, and hers no doubt as she became flushed again.

The train stopped, the automatic voice said the words, the doors opened and without letting go of my eyes she smiled playfully and walked away. Should I stay or should I go? I should stay… safe travels subway girl.

Eating out.

I woke up at seven in the evening today. It had been a wonderful night. It was dark outside and I realised I didn’t have much of anything to eat around the house so I thought I’d pop outside for a breath of fresh air and some contemplation, on my own.

I have just moved here and I don’t really know the neighborhood very well but there is one place that I do like. It is unfortunately located within the food court of a large supermarket, one of the most stressful places for me.  But, I thought to myself, it’s fairly late in the evening, few people will be there, it will be interesting.

Now, I don’t live in what’s called the safest part of town, but it’s not too bad either, all that happened on the ten to fifteen minute walk there was that I saw a bum peeing on a grafittied up wall, practically within the focus of a streetlight – little Paris indeed. Few cars on the street, people trying to catch a bus home in almost dark stops and walking home with cheery little kids back from a trip to the colorful mall.

It looks like it’s finally warming up outside so I ended up undoing the zipper on my jacket only to wonder at the silhouette of my own shadow walking in front of me. What was once a short kid walking home from school in uniform with a square leather backpack is now a hooded anonymous figure beneath the streetlights of the big city with but a lit cigarette to ironically show that a living man hides within, no one knows who I am or where I am going, and that’s alright.

The place is almost empty by now, the few people I see are mopping the floor or closing down their stores, some turn their gaze to me as I let down my hood and head for the place I want to eat, ‘I might be a bit late’ I think to myself ‘but that’s alright too’. There are customers on the one table though so I ask the smartly dressed head waitress whether I can sit down for dinner or whether they are getting ready to close. She smiles with her eyes at my ingenuity and tells me they don’t close until midnight and encourages me to take a seat.

The place is closed off but large windows allow you to see into the middle of the food court. People finishing their meals and putting on jackets before they head for home, fast food workers bantering as they push along carts of supplies, somehow always with a smile as they chat among themselves. It’s a Sunday so their weekend is shot but somehow they still find ways to be cheerful, and you can tell it’s genuine, not a customer to fake it towards in sight.

Some of the restaurant staff are getting ready to leave as well and I overhear them asking one of the waitresses what’s wrong, she looks like she’s had a bad day, but she’s determined not to share the details and just tells them to stop asking. She brings me my beer and ashtray and tells me that my ‘Penne al salmone’ will be served shortly. I am now the only customer.

The food was excellent, light yet filling and full of Mediterranean aroma, complimented by the rugged but soft addition of smoked salmon. I was half way through my beer by the time it arrived, and open to culinary suggestions. I am really starting to like this place. I finish up my food and start typing away at a message with a piece of warm foccacia in my other hand and lay back. I take in the sights and sounds and can almost feel the air of content around me. Life seems to agree with people working here, at least in this snapshot. I wave and the head waitress brings me my check. ‘I’ll use my card please, and please may I have a pen?’, ‘A pen?’ she smiles ‘Yes, please’

I was going to write it on the back of the receipt but she brought a piece of paper too, which I thought was rather thoughtful ‘An excellent meal, thank you. A smile for the young lady whom no one knows what is wrong with’. I leave a customary tip, put on my jacket and pull up my hood, walk away to the sound of echoing giggles from what I counted to be everyone in the scene behind me.

February 2015.

This is a story. This music goes with it (opens new tab). Read it and call me crazy at your leisure.

I was feeling happy when I woke up this morning. I have a new job that I love, I think I might be falling in love, I’ve rediscovered an artist that I like, I can see that it’s sunny outside, my room’s a bit of a mess but that can be fixed when I come back from the doctors’, oh and I must remember to tie up my freshly sprouted bean stalks. Got stuff to do today, best get cracking.

Doctors’ appointments are interesting experiences. Mine said I should get more exercise than I already am because I work in an office and that exposes me to sedentarism, and I should quit smoking, he suggested a way I hadn’t thought of before, and I’m going to try it, wish me luck.

I took everything he said to heart, as I do, and I’m hopeful about the future but it’s still a bit of a downer coming back home. I walked up the corridor leading to my studio unlocked the door and slowly got out of my boots and jacket, and just crashed into bed fully clothed for a bit.

A second later I opened my eyes and noticed a brown patch on my yellow wall. Three blinks later and it had grown into a sketch of someone I thought I recognized, that can’t be right. Blink Blink. Now another sketch of a manga cartoon is superimposed on the first… I’m probably dreaming. Close your eyes it’ll go away.

When I next opened my eyes after what felt like a few minutes the sketches were gone but now a black spot was in the same place. I hadn’t noticed that before. Blink blink. It’s now a black and white sketch of someone else I once knew, the inner spaces are white, the contours are thick black strokes, and those voices – those weren’t there, I hadn’t noticed the walls of this new place are so thin. Bin… tan pis, I’m probably still dreaming, so let’s see what else gets drawn on the wall.

As I try to concentrate on the images, they get faster and faster, all different, people, cartoon characters all in faster and faster cadence, my heart rate soars and the voices are getting stronger and they are very close… this isn’t turning out quite the way I like, best go back to sleep.

I’m finally up. Hm those voices are still there. I get out of bed and realize there are people in my hallway. I’ve got the urge to tell them breaking and entering is a felony, but before I can open my mouth I notice the two cops standing in my bathroom door speaking to the other 5 people huddled around. What is going on? They’re all speaking Romanian and seem to be very interested in my bathroom… ‘What’s going on? Why are you all in my house?’. Nothing, it’s like I’m not there. I get right in the middle of them and try to listen to what they’re saying, but I can’t understand my own language. It’s like the words are blurred.

What’s happening?! I try to check the kitchen for signs of whatever it is that’s going on in my bathroom and notice that it’s dark outside… must’ve slept through the day, wouldn’t be the first time. The kitchen looks fine, grab my smokes from the counter and try to address the people in my doorway again ‘Please tell me who called the cops and why? I don’t intend to retaliate in any way, just take a look at me, it’s not like I could anyway’ Nothing. ‘Please, I just want to know what happened!’, nothing, why are they doing this? Why are they all in my house discussing my bathroom? I only now hear the water flowing in there, but it’s dark and the light’s not on, please don’t tell me the guy upstairs is flooding me.

I walk outside into the hallway but no one is there, all I can see is the reflections of the lamps on the floor and lights at each end of the corridor, all I can hear is Romanian being spoken and the echo of water flowing. Right, that’s it, I’m going to the police station to fix this.

The night is young at least, I have no Idea what time it is but Jupiter can’t have been up for more than a couple of hours. I stare at it ‘Hello old friend, at least you’re still there, oh no… no don’t do that’. It starts to move randomly around it’s spot, faster and faster it’s no longer a dot and starts to describe a sketched human shape flying in loops around it’s usual place. As I’m walking looking right at it, I step on a piece of almost frozen snow and it cracks. I’m startled… So i’m definitely not asleep, that proves it, and I probably wasn’t before. Those people were all in my house, all day, as I was sleeping, talking about my bathroom… That’s what those voices were… What is going on? WHAT IS GOING ON?!

Where am I? Oh look, those two were in my house earlier, quick, after them, they’re walking straight towards me. I hear her speaking. ‘Did you see how angry he was? I would be too if people barged into my house like that and didn’t speak to me… And the cops didn’t even look at him? can you imagine what was going on in his mind?’. Great they’re on my side. ‘Oh I’m so glad I caught up with you, can you tell me what happened? I’m starting to get a bit flippy’. She glances my way and looks me straight in the eye, but they just keep on walking and talking as if I wasn’t there.

‘NO’, I follow them, but I can’t get any closer, I’m running and they’re walking but I’m not closing the gap. It’s dark and I’m surrounded by tall desolate apartment blocks, there’s melting snow everywhere and they round a corner from the alley. I keep running but somehow the alley is a lot thinner now than it was before. The hedges on the sides are starting to scratch me and before I know it I’m stuck, in the middle of all this. Time to backtrack but it’s all the same. Now I’m lost and somehow I’m half naked from the waist down except my boots. I look up and Jupiter is still there, still drawing away at an animated cartoon of a sketched human shape playing around across the night sky as if on blueprint paper. I need to get home, regroup and figure this out… this can’t be happening, nothing makes any rational sense. I’m not entirely sure I have any reason left that would make sense of anything right now, I’m clearly losing it.

This isn’t the street I live on, I must be close by though, there’s the church. All I have to do is get there and from there it’s two minutes to my place. When did all these churches start getting built? I never noticed them before. Why are they all being built all over this block? They’re all in various stages of construction. Why is there a group of Franciscan nuns in the middle of a rundown Bucharest neighborhood walking around Orthodox building sites in the middle of the night? ‘Hello? Can you tell me what street this is? I’m trying to get to street X’ ‘Oh that’s right over there’. She points me toward a parallel street. She spoke a language I had never heard before, but somehow I understand her and take her advice. Now i’m close for sure.

There’s a cop car with the lights on parked close to my building, great maybe now they’ll tell me what happened, give me some explanation, but which one is it? I just moved here… They both look the same, why am i not cold even though it’s February and I’m wet from head to toe for some reason. The next thing I know I’m standing in front of my open doorway, the house is dark with an orange light filtering through the curtain from the streetlamps outside. The water is still on but no one is here. I’m dripping from my jacket, now I am cold and I can feel the exposure, my genitals are trying hard to get inside my abdomen, my legs are cold and wet and I’m thinking it can’t get much worse so I might as well try to get online and check the news, try to shed some light on what’s going on. On my way there I finally check the bathroom.

A series of metal pipes are fastened to the ceiling leading into glass tubes that spiral widely into a network of glass lab equipment, clear water is coming from the ceiling and it’s turning dark blue before it all drains into a massive glass vat where once filled it turns into a fine foam and vanishes. What is this for? Who put it here? Where is the water coming from? Why is it vanishing. I rush into the kitchen, fumble around for my ashtray and get out my smokes. I need a time out, I really do. I open it up and take one out without looking, but it’s flattened beyond use, and wet, and a leathery brown, it’s burst and wet, but it’s smoking already, how? I take a good look into my pack but they’re all in various stages of whatever happened to the first one. ‘No… please no…’ I’m naked, wet and cold… My place is completely trashed and I may or may not be in trouble with the police… I’m seeing things and my fucking beans are dead! I start to slide my back down the side of the counter and I feel like I’m about to completely break down into little pieces of what used to be me.

Skype calls and I wake up. The sun’s still up. I hadn’t noticed my bike was missing in the dream. Well… It’s definitely there now. Right, where was I? ah yes… I gotta clean up this mess