Comments Posted By rhyme79

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People are strange. It’s been said before, many times. It’ll be said a million more too, because it’s true. Is it better to know a little about a lot, or a lot about a little? Folk generally live in an ignorance of their own choosing. It may be one of materialistic comfort, one of work, manual or cerebral, or one of friendship and community. But a person will always be ignorant of everything beyond their own experience. We can endeavour to reduce our level of unknowing by seeking experience and knowledge, but we will never fully lose our ignorance. We will never fully understand the world because there is too much to understand. But we are all connected. The universe around us and absolutely everything in it formed from the same singularity; an amount of matter compressed into the size of a garden pea. Imagine how much energy was contained in that singularity, and that’s why we are connected. We are all made of the same stuff. Stuff that was once so squashed together that ALL of it was closer to every other part of it than your thumb is to the tip of your pointing finger right now.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.22.2012 @ 11:33 am


Knowing where to begin is hard for some. Sometimes it is for me too. They say that starting at the beginning is the best way, but knowing what is the beginning isn’t always so easy. When everything is twisted together or has been going on for years. When you’ve lost contact with the string that guides you back to the surface, you can’t look down. Or over. When together anxieties and wishes have all blended into a deeper shade. When everything happened all at once, where is the beginning? But that’s not only it. Knowing where to begin is only half of knowing. When to begin is the corresponding mirror image. Tell them. Let it out. But when? Now?

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.20.2012 @ 1:11 pm


You can’t make wild claims anymore, at least not without backing them up with some credible evidence. Credible evidence isn’t a dodgy article reposted on some Japanese teenager’s blog, even if it only has one typo. We live in the communications age. The whole world is information, it always was. Only now people have access to it. At the flick of a switch and a press of a button you can have boundless quantities of lists and stats, news events, what’s hot, or not and reams and reams of drivel and self-righteous comment, whether you want it or not. The skill is in gauging how much of it is bullshit, (most of it), and finding a way to remember that outside the sun is shining and there are actual, 3D people out there,and they have ice-cream. And staring at a screen, as every grown-up kid knows, will make your eyes go square.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.19.2012 @ 12:36 pm

And it wasn’t really me. I mean it WAS me, but I wasn’t myself that day. Or the days before and after. Especially after. I didn’t claim to know what I was doing, or to have any kind of strategy or master plan. There definitely was no pattern of organised thought going on. I wasn’t planning anything, I just got up and did it. And I’ll always regret it. Always, always regret it.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.19.2012 @ 12:05 pm


A severed optic nerve causes total blindness. There will be no black and no dark as if our eyes were shut. If born this way, a person will never see their world, but they will hear it, taste and smell it and touch it. This means they will never know colour. Imagining nothingness replacing the images in my mind is difficult. My pictures exist because I have visual knowledge. But the universe being an expanding infiniteness and blindness causing a nothingness are two concepts for which I have no images, just as blindness has none of yellow or blue.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.16.2012 @ 11:07 am

Being born without the ability to see offers an opportunity unavailable to most. A chance to experience the environment and the people within differently, uniquely. Ignorance of colour, age or style of dress gives blindness a step up in reaching towards what is fair and equal. But ignorance can find new ways to judge. The tone of your voice, the feel of your hand and how you choose to treat the blindness of others. Blindness is not always ignorance, sometimes it’s chosen by those who can see but don’t know how. It is ignorance of blindness that is the place where knowledge must gather.
We are all suffering from blindness, but those born blind have no need to suffer. They can see what most can’t.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.16.2012 @ 10:36 am


I didn’t want to make any decisions that would have binding consequences. I was trying to avoid saying anything at all but she looked at me expecting something so, without thinking, I blurted a load of buzz words about blue sky thinking and pushing envelopes out of boxes, or something like that anyway. She raised her left eyebrow. It was expertly plucked, the arch perfectly formed. I wish I had eyebrows like that. I could see she was considering her response, probably trying to find a way to tactfully fire me without making me cry, but what she actually said surprised me. Actually, it was so bewilderingly marvellous that I thought she’d made a mistake and was probably having a minor stroke or something and it was causing her to say stuff. But it turned out she meant every word. I hadn’t put in even an amoeba’s worth of effort at all and yet she was rewarding me for a job well done! Hell, I was even trying to avoid the next meeting by not saying anything. Well I guess it worked. Sort of. She told me that I was an asset to the company and to tell HR that I needed to have my own office now. She said that she understood the relevance of a good bullshitter in the modern marketplace and that I was one of the best she’d ever seen. So now I’ve got my own office, it’s far too big of course. Just me and my desk and lamp, lost in a giant windowed room but it’s great, I don’t have to hide my coffee mug anymore to stop people stealing it and I haven’t got to scream at the printer and photocopier when it fucks up everything I ever tell it to do because I’ve got people to do that for me now. I don’t know if she thought I was making a point or something by talking absolute rubbish that day, or whether she realises I was spewing forth from my backside, but whatever the case, it doesn’t matter because now I’ve got an office so big I regularly lose my desk and my own private coffee mug.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.10.2012 @ 12:52 pm


Her music was too loud in her ears. Maybe she just had rubbish headphones. I could hear her tinny beats over the tones of conversation on the bus. Several old women with small dogs on their laps talked in pairs about the weather and how expensive everything is now. They didn’t seem to hear it, but then old ladies aren’t known for their brilliant hearing. Maybe they didn’t care, their years of experience told them not to let themselves worry about such things. But I did. I cared and I worried and it was driving me crazy.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.09.2012 @ 1:26 pm


This wasn’t really what I’d meant to do, but I said something stupid whilst I wasn’t thinking and now I’m committed to something I swore was a load of rubbish. Morality comes in here, but which is amoral? Lying or doing something I disagree with? If I’m guided only by my likes and dislikes then that self-centred view will do nothing for me and only serve to piss everyone else off. So, using that logic it’s best to just bite the proverbial bullet and get on with it. I shall have to flex my bullshitting muscles.Teeth gritting and vile bile swallowing isn’t such a terrible ordeal anyway, plus it’ll teach me the skill I need to cope with it next time without freaking out like it’s nuclear war or something. Yep, there’s gonna be a next time, it’s bound to happen again. Me and my big mouth. Jeez.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.07.2012 @ 1:06 pm


We didn’t really know what we were doing but the summer of hill sitting, pavement chatting and metaphorical map drawing had become the influence behind such dangerous momentum. I was shooting for a chaotic happiness that I thought could be mine, but you rebelled with frightened stillness. I didn’t know that at the time. If I’d have realised, I don’t think I would’ve understood anyway. Not you, or I. I would’ve deceived myself and carried it onward, because back then I didn’t have many words. I still don’t have them for outside of me. It was a stupid pressure but it was a crazy time. I’d stopped fighting. Eleven years and not written, though the cypher will never leave.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.06.2012 @ 1:33 pm


I didn’t know whether I was going to make it. The hill seemed to be only getting steeper as I lumped my broken body towards the summit. My goal was shrinking from sight, getting farther away despite the progress I was making, however slow. The dark was looming and the temperature was beginning to fall, numbing my toes and creating frosty clouds from my dried mouth. I heaved to breathe, looking like an aged dragon fighting to keep his fire alight. The cold crashed inside my chest with each inhalation, causing an ironic burning that would subside as I released the breath, only to return again and again with every open lipped suck of frigid air. I began to feel a dizziness I’d not felt before. A sudden retreating inside myself and my awareness focussing behind my eyes. The dark appeared as if behind glass and removed its contact with my body. My hand movements dragged and slurred, leaving smudged reflections of where they’d been half a second earlier like distorted, over exposed fireworks against the night. A visible tracing of where my skin touched space. The mouth clouds I was making seemed to billow briefly as they formed then dropped to the hard ground, the moisture frozen instantly upon meeting the air. The hand tracings and smoky breath joined, one a canvas for the other creating beautiful, muted designs of colours mingled. My fingers and toes were frozen numb but every muscle began to pour as they suddenly relaxed and began to function without strain. My shoulders dropped and my aching legs lost their weight, each previously staggering step became effortless, the ground giving like a sponge. They seemed long and floating as if gravity suddenly reduced. The dark ahead of me swiftly swallowing me with its silence, as if entering a tunnel. Slow and blurry, the night drew in.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.05.2012 @ 12:37 pm


How will we know? Will there be sudden cracks of thunder and locusts descending upon us? Or a storm of unhindered rage and power to flatten? Will there be trumpets heralding due miracles of biblical inspiration and scale? One day the moon will fall into the fields and we’ll stab at it with trowels and spades like unsure cavemen excavators.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.04.2012 @ 12:40 pm

Stopping at the door, she took a look at the corridor reaching away from her. It was beige. Wide, alternating stripes of dark and light brown floor stretched back the way she came, furthering the middle-aged, ennui’d atmosphere. Both walls formed of horlicks toned, naked bricks hung no break in design. No pictures or signs or sight of even the most cryptic of clues to the nature of the space she was in. Her heart briefly trembled as she prayed for a miracle to sweep her up right there and land her in bed, away from the anxiety and discomfort the corridor enveloped. The door transmitted palpitations through her fingertips and it’s dirty-brown hue further swallowed any nuance of confidence or esteem. Its aura the catalyst of prolonged, stomached dread.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.03.2012 @ 12:16 pm


‘No worries! I’ve got it covered.’ Now, why should such a positive thought come to mind? How entirely and drastically incongruous of my character! However, perhaps I should embrace such flashes rather than scrutinize them. Intellectualising every unexpected nugget of notion that briefly passes through my brain is not a recipe for positive thought, now is it?

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.03.2012 @ 11:32 am


I picked it up off the pavement. It was heavier than I expected and its rough texture meant that dirt had collected all along its surface. I rubbed it against my jeans to try to clean it up a bit, then holding it up to the light I could see some writing along the side. ‘Made in China’. Wow, not a relic of massive archaeological importance then, but something that probably fell out of a Christmas cracker and is so shit that whoever won it didn’t even want it. Man, what a crap day. Seems I’m not going to have an adventure after all. Or, am I? No, probably not.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 09.01.2012 @ 12:25 pm


The sun beat down on Bernard, turning his sweaty flesh quickly into a dry and crispy desert within a desert. His body dehydrated, petrified in place and remaining as a monument to adventure… and misadventure.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.31.2012 @ 11:51 am


There were no comforting faces. No expression of offered salvation from the onlookers, just wide eyed frowns and mouthed words of shock and disagreement. My agitation obvious as I fidgeted fingers and thumbs, crossed and uncrossed my arms. A puerile self hug, attempting to wall myself up and defend the space between the crowd and my uneasiness. A pathetic protection from the dense atmosphere. A failed disassociation of done and doer among tuts and hipped hands. Of hands on mouths and meeting eyes.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.30.2012 @ 1:06 pm


I leant over and grabbed last week’s copy of the TV guide. “That’s out of date.” Stan told me.
“I know, but some programmes are always on at the same time every week, so it doesn’t matter.”
“The soaps and stuff. They’re always on the same side at the same time, aren’t they? So I was looking to see what time Eastenders comes on.”
“What do you want to know about Eastenders for? We never watch it.”
“I know, how do you think I’ve managed to avoid it for so long? I need to know so I can make sure I don’t watch it.”
“See? I’m not as green as I am cabbage looking, am I? Hey?”
“Whatever you say. Quick turn it over, Eastenders is starting.”

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.24.2012 @ 1:18 pm

I’m trying to look at this from the other side. If I were suddenly thrown into a situation which forces me to make a decision one way or the other, on pain of serious consequences if I refuse, well I’d be a bit stressed too! So maybe I am being slightly unreasonable, and his accusations weren’t that far off the mark. I’m going to try to make things a little smoother for us, a bit gentler perhaps without the pressure to succeed. Hopefully then we won’t all feel like jumping out the window and leaving it to the cleaners! And I’m going to start moving in this new direction with cream cakes and coffee. Cream cakes and coffee for all, even for the cleaners. But they’ll have to tidy the mess up afterwards.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.24.2012 @ 1:05 pm

I wasn’t about to take sides, but I really was fed up with the way some of the office treated Susie. Well, maybe I am taking sides, but she deserves some support. We’ve been on our knees lately with the amount of work thrusted upon us by the unnameable powers that be, so a little stress and steam blowing is expected. But to deliberately make more work for someone as a channel for minor revenge isn’t stress relief. Raising your voice to someone, making mistakes because you’re tired, losing your rag with your computer keyboard, they ARE expected. But deliberately cocking up your work in the knowledge that the Susie will have to correct it, is just vindictive and unkind. Anyway, I heard on the grapevine, ( the coffee room just as I’d got in yesterday morning,) that Carter’s for the push. I can’t say I’m glad, but he is a bit of a prick, and productivity definitely slumped when he took up his desk in here. Well then, maybe I AM actually glad to see the back of pale pink shirts. The only issue is who the hell else are they going to slam us together with as his replacement?!

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.23.2012 @ 2:13 pm


I didn’t have much sugar left, so I didn’t bother putting any in. Half the time he didn’t notice anyway. The other half he’d forget I’d even bought him a cup of tea. He’d be in that shed for 48 hour stints if I’d let him. I had no idea what the latest ‘project’ was but going by the debris lying around the lawn and what I’d seen him drag in this morning before he slammed the wonky shed door shut, apparently it had something to do with welding a step ladder to a buckled bicycle wheel. I’m sure it was dreadfully important, maybe even on an international scale because I couldn’t find any other reason as to why he’d be so dedicated to it in lieu of being a father to his children and a husband to his wife, me.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.22.2012 @ 9:51 am


From the moment I woke up this morning, I knew the day was going to be one long struggle. Probably something to do with that feeling of dread that descended as soon as I opened my eyes. I don’t know why today in particular. Maybe someone sitting on a cloud had pointed at me casually, knowing I’d just have to cope. Perhaps this was karma for making Lucy Cameron cry in year four, or for telling on David Knowles when he gave the finger to Mrs Southway, the dinner lady. In any event, there wasn’t anything I could do except just get through it. But right now I feel like this day will have no end. That’s right, knowing my luck I’ll be stuck in some kind of eternal nightmare of red lights, roadworks, office arguments and screaming kids, and that’s just the good parts. Yeesh, here I go. Smile, smile, SMILE.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.19.2012 @ 12:26 pm


The kitchen was a no-go zone on a Sunday until at least the lunch dishes were done and everyone was on the sofa in front of ‘The Antiques Roadshow’. God I hate that show, always have done. It’s not really the show’s fault though, I think it’s just because I associate it with the Sunday evening feeling of dread I was contained by, knowing there’s school in the morning.
Sundays were the only day in the week when the whole family was thrown together and forced to spend time with each other and there was nowhere to go. God, I hated Sundays. I still do a bit. There was always, and I mean always, a row between mum and dad. Despite there being no spat-free weekend, I can’t for the life of me remember what any single one of them was about. They all just mix up together in a blur of shouts and slams like blue paint poured on top of wet red paint. Just a big smudge of an angry, purple mess.

A lot of my memories are like that; a contorted, fractured image of missing words and explanations. I try not to fill in the gaps now because it wouldn’t be true. It would just be my imagination conjuring it up. It’s probably better I don’t remember a lot of it anyway. My childhood is the main reason I’ve been stuck here for so long.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.16.2012 @ 11:36 am

Zoning out is my speciality. I could guarantee you that if someone was telling me something, especially if it’s important, I would be elsewhere. I’d be sat in the tree outside the window, reading the notices on the wall, or at the pub chatting over the bar. Just in my mind, mind you, but that’s enough to detach me from whatever the present situation happens to be, whatever it is I’ve found myself in.
So, I was a day dreamer, I suppose. That’s not so terrible really, I can live with that. I’d choose daydreamhood over most other afflictions. Cancer, Parkinsons, Alzheimer’s, cramp, PMT,? Yep, drifting off would definitely be the preferable choice in those circumstances. ‘Course it drives the people around me round the bend and they tend to inflict upon me the sharp end of their frustrations. Which is only fair I suppose, seeing as I’m the cause of a fair portion of them. Getting shouted at daily or having people stamp out the room with steam streaming out their nostrils isn’t much fun though. But I must admit I often have no idea what’s happened because I was writing haiku in my head or planning my tea.
It drives people up the wall because I answer questions in a haze, filling the silent gaps with “uhhuhh”, “hmhmm” or the worst one, “mmmmm”. I suppose I must be semi-conscious of someone talking to me. At some level anyway, but my main brain is doing something else. I don’t know why I can’t seem to focus on anything for longer than five minutes at a time. Perhaps I’m attention deficetted, that’s it isn’t it? I need some kind of potent pharmaceutical to keep me in the room and no higher than the ceiling.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.15.2012 @ 12:38 pm


Throwing the bags into the van, he looked around, slammed the doors shut and jumped in the cab. Of the few people around, no one seemed interested. He started the engine and zoomed off, grinning. He didn’t think robbing banks would ever be his living, he only ever planned to do it once in desperation, but this was his third and it looked like he was going to get away with this one too.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.13.2012 @ 1:16 pm


The air was freezing but sweat swam down my face, pounding chest and back. My thudding strides maintained pace with the guy in front,104, but he was slowing. I considered deviating from my plan and making an early break, but it was too big a risk. If I went now I didn’t know if I could run at the quickened pace long enough for a decent place. Ha, listen to me! 10 weeks ago I never would’ve even dreamed of being so competitive. The entire concept was just not one that mattered to me. But today, running across this frozen field, it mattered. It mattered because I had put so much into this one thing. More than I’d ever put into anything. The first thing that actually mattered because I’d tried hard to succeed.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.12.2012 @ 1:52 pm


It’s so tiring, hunting for your approval among the grunts and eyes ceiling-ward and talking over me. You know, every time you don’t listen to me, it’s like another rejection. Every time you decide you’re not interested, or you know more than I do, or you’ve already heard all about it, it’s like a letter telling me I wasn’t good enough and didn’t get in. I try to just carry on, listen to you instead or change the subject. It doesn’t really work, not even for moment or two. Because every time you do it, it reminds me of all the other times and it takes me half a second to push that hurt down on top of the others. You know, one day the pile’s going to get too tall.

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.11.2012 @ 12:35 pm

“Its not like I need your approval or anything, but I just thought I’d run it by you. You know, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“You know, terrible things, and stuff… In case it’s illegal or stupid. Or pointless”
“Show me then.”
” Ermm, you know.. it doesn’t matter. I’ll ask someone else.”

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.11.2012 @ 12:19 pm


I would imagine that many people will be inspired to write about SMS texts and txtspk. So as this is my second entry for this word today, the first one using the word as a term for a manuscript, I thought I’d go for the modern age angle this time! Listen to that, anyone would think I was 80. I’m only 33! Geez, getting old before my time.
Now I’ve garbled and rambled on without even typing what I was planning to. That’s something old people do too, isn’t it? Ramble on.
I’m doomed aren’t I?

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.10.2012 @ 12:56 pm

First day huh? I didn’t think I’d ever make it this far. I always completely lacked ambition so actually knowing that tomorrow I will be standing in front of a class of kids, and getting paid for it! Well, I never thought it would ever happen.
Looking at the curriculum and this term’s syllabus, there’s actually some really good texts to teach and inspire these young people with.
Things have certainly changed since I was school age. Kids have the benefit of our knowing much more about the way we learn now, so copying off the board is dead. Unless they piss me off, that is! Ha! No, I expect they’e all little angels. I hope. Eeek!

» Posted By rhyme79 On 08.10.2012 @ 12:41 pm

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