[This was destined to be the opening post for Roadkill v365.2, but since circumstances cast my site into limbo, here goes…]

What's wrong with the world, mama
People livin' like they ain't got no mamas
I think the whole world addicted to the drama
Only attracted to things that'll bring you trauma
Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA
The Bloods and The Crips and the KKK
But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate, yeah
Badness is what you demonstrate
And that's exactly how anger works and operates
Nigga, you gotta have love just to set it straight
Take control of your mind and meditate
Let your soul gravitate to the love, y'all, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)

Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love
The love, the love

It just ain't the same, always unchanged
New days are strange, is the world insane
If love and peace is so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don't belong
Nations droppin' bombs
Chemical gasses fillin' lungs of little ones
With the ongoin' sufferin' as the youth die young
So ask yourself is the lovin' really gone
So I could ask myself really what is goin' wrong
In this world that we livin' in people keep on givin'
in
Makin' wrong decisions, only visions of them dividends
Not respectin' each other, deny thy brother
A war is goin' on but the reason's undercover
The truth is kept secret, it's swept under the rug
If you never know truth then you never know love
Where's the love, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the truth, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the love, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)

Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love
The love, the love

I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder
Most of us only care about money makin'
Selfishness got us followin' in the wrong direction
Wrong information always shown by the media
Negative images is the main criteria
Infecting the young minds faster than bacteria
Kids act like what they see in the cinema
Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness in equality
Instead in spreading love we spreading animosity
Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down
There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under
Gotta keep my faith alive till love is found

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)…

[Justin Timberlake & Black Eyed Peas - Where is the Love?]


So why the hell would I submit an article that involves someone like Justin Timberlake. Don’t get me wrong, I have no personal gripe with Mr Timberlake or his partners in rhyme, Black Eyed Peas, but when it comes to the more popular hum-didi-daa crap that passes for music these days, I tend to cross my fingers followed by a robust, “Get beeehind me Satan!”.
I don’t blame the artists either, because they are merely products of a society who’s values have fallen to the wayside. The music of our time reflects the mindset of the population at large, so there is nothing surprising in the sad reality that the International Top 40 contains countless one liners. Back to “Where is the Love?”. When I first heard the song I didn’t know who the hell these guys were (because like I said, I’m not a fan), but the words struck home like a bad-ass-mother-fucker with a Louisville Slugger in his hands and a serious inclination to do some bodily harm in mind. After that every time I heard the song I tried to listen more carefully to the DJ afterwards, but every time I missed it. Then last weekend it came over the radio while I was at home and the wife promptly informed me that it was by Justin Timberlake and I said, “Fuck no?” and she said “Seriously” and I said “You’re shitting me?” and she said “Nope” and then the song was over and the DJ announced (clearly for a change) “Where is the Love by Black Eyed Peas and Justin Timberlake” and I sat there with my jaw near the floor for at least a minute.
That prompted a quick search at Google and there she was, two pages (two whole fucking pages) of lyrics (meaningful lyrics) in a world ruled by hundreds of nothing-more-than-one-liner-advertising-jingles-with-hyped-up-beats.
Still, the chances that I would ever buy anything involving Justin Timberlake is slimmer than an anorexic Ethiopian, but teaming up with Black Eyed Peas and using his fame to ask the world a meaningful question for a change, pushed him up a few notches in my little notebook of “How to fix a broken world?” Now if only people would start listening to the words instead of swaying mindlessly to the rhythm of the latest advertisement for spending-your-money-on-meaningless-shit-under-the-pretense-that-you-actually-need-it, maybe (just maybe) there is still some hope for the future of mankind.

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I am young, I am healthy. My body performs more or less to request virtually uninterrupted by illness or injury. It does everything asked of it, and when I am careless enough to damage it, it quickly repairs itself and I am none the worse for it. Quite efficient, really. By human standards, though I'm hardly endowed with Olympic attributes and abilities, this machine of mine is entirely adequate and probably in better overall health than most (obesity being endemic in one half of the world, starvation in the other). I take reasonable steps to keep it that way, with diet and exercise.

My mind is active, inquisitive, reasonably intelligent. I can explore such issues as I please as I have the physical and psychological liberty to do so. My mind is as free and as healthy as it ever has been. The biggest obstacle being my own desires, my capacity to learn and grow intellectually seems far from being fulfilled, and I doubt it will be anytime soon. In the meantime though, I am lucky enough to exist without notable psychological impairment, and have the kind of intellectual freedoms that humankind has dreamed of for millennia (and in some parts, continue to have resort only to such dreams).

I recognise these things, and yet I do not appreciate them. I understand that shortly my body will become frail, vulnerable, and my mind slowed and prone to mistake. Yet the only effect this seems to have is to embitter me against the inevitability of getting old. I have all the usual tools available to mankind, but nothing to do with them.

Daily routine aside, my body is only challenged at leisure; sport, running. Its true abilities are not needed for my survival, and so they are not used. Is this to create the most efficient, comfortable environment in which my mind can flourish? It would be a nice relationship, but my mind refuses to appreciate the favour. This mind of mine, you see, can comprehend greater things than it is needed for: I feel as if I am existing in a very small sphere of my mind's capacity, and I am frustrated by the glimpses of freedom and virility in which I know my mind would so love to exist, but may not.

My freedom, the freedom that so many have fought so hard to achieve, is wasted.

And so mind and body prove to be largely antagonistic, each vying for attention and fulfilment, neither achieving adequate progress. I have well experienced much of the pleasures that the body can give: it is but a small taste, but I believe greater application would come at too high a cost, vitiating the reward. And so the mind is embraced as the one part of this troublesome form which offers hope. We search, fumble, burrow and plough, we ask, beg and ache for knowledge. Here, the body is of no use, only hindrance. The mind either will not rest until it finds the explanation for its quest, the closure for its agonies, or it will self destruct.

Given time, one of them must be inevitable.

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This is absolutely priceless. Look what happens when someone decides to reply to a Nigerian "419" scam email. Some of the things he gets these guys doing is fantastic. I'll give them this though - they're persistent. Not persistent enough to get a fucking job mind you.

Click here

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Upon reflection, the world around me is an ever-changing and yet static equilibrium. Truth and untruths exist along very little understanding, though we all do our song and dance to attempt any sort of interpretation. Apparently, our birthright leads us toward the inside of that dark cave, where, deep in its underbelly, hides the secret to happiness and completion.

I have said before, the soul is a great precipice.

At any rate, the one thing I find on a regular basis is an observation many will find rather shocking from me: we have lost the inner child. When I say "inner child" I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean embracing childishness. The inner child is something innocent and devoid of all that makes this world hell. The inner child watches cartoons and smiles at random people on the street. The inner child is, in other words, all those positive attributes you have had as a child.

Growing up, many things are shoved underneath the psyche. Hopes and dreams are smashed under the pragmatic foot of realism.

I have seen many pitiful attempts to achieve this child. Some people attempt to embrace it within unattached sexuality, without realizing the inherent mistakes that are attached. Many people I know have attempted, against my advice, such a sexuality. "It is possible for me to be unattached," they tell me. "Sexual attachment does not happen consciously," I warn them. "One can get attached to a lover even against the will, and you are only harming either yourself or your fling by even attempting such a thing." But, since they obviously are right and I wrong, I watch as they attempt, and, ultimately, fail, become hurt, and come to me for comfort.

I have heard of one such creature who has not hurt herself. She embraces sexuality, and it has come at the cost of those around her, and I honestly believe that in embracing sexuality she has embraced evil. She leaves broken hearts in her wake, and indeed, remains attached with them only to shove it in their face that she is sleeping with someone else.

This leads me to believe that she has cut the throat of her inner child and left it rotting in a shed somewhere.

The inner child cannot be found by abandoning connection to humanity. Such a creature exists not as an excuse to do evil, not as a way out of trouble, but as a path to happiness. The inner child is the simplistic representation of happiness, and the perfect inner child is one that comes not at the cost of others, but at a more spiritual safety and naivité.

The inner child is something that can only be defined as a function of the individual.

Now, I say "we have lost our inner child" but I do not mean to imply that all have given up hope. There are a select few who embrace a much more simplistic lifestyle. There are a few who still watch cartoons no matter what their age, who cry in public out of frustration, who play in the mud.

Yet, there are also the many who are too ashamed to admit that they want to roll down a muddy hill. There are many such reasons why people avoid their inner child. Sexuality can be the destruction of this inner creature. Many people overemphasize the importance of sexuality, and thus avoid embarassing situations in order to remain "sexy" (a definition which I hope to destroy in myself, and I daresay I'd rather think of myself as ugly then sexy at most times). Another is the myth of the "grown-up" that is thrown at kids. "Grown ups don't do this, don't do that, you do, you don't do, you do, you don't do..." Professionalism, empiricism.... many opportunities to cast away this inner creature.

I have built many self-defense mechanisms around myself. But I refuse to starve my inner child. He is my heart, he is my soul, and he is my mind. He is me, simplified, and is my ultimate happiness. Impossible to describe, I am constantly in conversation with him, hoping to have him uncover his secrets.

However, I have left out one more reason why the inner child is sometimes unseen: the world has monsters who would cut its throat. I have seen it in hurtful sexuality, I have seen it in violence, in an overindulgence of control.

My inner child hides behind thick walls, trapped in my mind, a cell of its own, reading from the sometimes-vast library that resides inside of my being.

Perhaps someday, when all the monsters have been conquered, he will come out in public.

Until then, he is reserved for the few who I can be certain would never harm him.

All you monsters, you sick f-----s, should be ashamed of yourselves for frightening him in this way.

And for those who think this article to be an expression of my vulnerability, it is at once a vulnerable thing and an expression of how strong my walls have become. My inner child cannot be killed, but those who attack it shall be sorry, indeed, for I am want to believe strongly in justice.

Sometimes, I fear I have become naught more than an open wound, and that there are monsters who will try to poke these open sores, to cause me pain. This may sound like paranoia, but it is not that these people are out to get me specifically. Rather, there are those who can stand and create walls, there are those who can express their inner child, and, sometimes, there are those who I consider worthless, those who have nothing in their possession except a stick, with which they wonder the streets in search of a weakness in the walls, so they can poke at the bloody cuts.

That said, I will go in secret, now, to my hidden shelter, and play in the mud.

Tonkas and bicycles abound, as well as teddy bears and vast card houses, where resides the great sorcerer.

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My mother always tells me, 'as long as you enjoy yourself, that's all that matters'. I used to think she was being naïve.

Once it becomes apparent (and for some it's much earlier than others) that the material joys of adulthood will never be quite as satisfying as those of childhood, we all must face up to a choice. It is a choice that somewhat surprises. Either we resign ourselves to an existence, ultimately, of mediocrity and henceforth try to get as much satisfaction and stimulation out of these fragile bodies before they collapse and die, or we turn aside from sensual satisfaction (of the more obvious kind at least) and devote our hopes and efforts to the cultivation of the mind and (though it seems to have become something of a dirty word these days) the soul. A crude distinction you might say, and you'd be right. But I think it a fundamentally accurate one. Of course there are an infinite number of shades of each attitude and there's inevitably room for something of both to exist in one person.

The choice becomes necessary because the human mind requires to feel that it is existing at full capacity: if it is felt that there is unused capacity then this undermines the validity of existence at anything below the perceived capacity. I know it's not a very appealing term, but I can't think of a 'nicer' one with comparable meaning so it will have to suffice. What we are doing comes to feel insufficient once we feel we could be doing more.

For those dedicated to their minds, life becomes a path. Some know where they want it to go, others just hope it’s somewhere nice. The mind is agitated to dismiss material wealth because it only scratches the surface of what the human mind can appreciate. The mind, then, is something that offers hope of greater satisfaction, a satisfaction that leaves no room for further desire to undermine it. Capacity. Worldly comforts become subordinate to a perceived higher goal: intellectual harmony. The applications of this are broad, and necessarily so; what is important is that the body becomes a mere stick helping to scratch the itching of the mind.

As for those who prefer tangible, immediate pleasures, the pursuit is not necessarily any less vigorous; indeed some of the most motivated and determined people I know have dedicated their lives to sensual satisfaction. Some are fully committed to the way of life, others choose it as an easier and more easily accessible way of gaining meaning and reward from existence. The mind is reduced to a medium through which stimulation is received.

It should be stated here that it is not important which approach to life I believe to be superior. Indeed, it is vital to the purpose of this article that I accept the individual basis upon which such choices be made.

What must be realised is that despite their often dramatic differences, the two approaches, though dedicated to different ends, are driven by the same thing: the desire for capacity. Complete satisfaction. Contentedness. Call it what you please. And wherever the desire to do more and better exists, so too does the inherent regret that not enough is presently being achieved. If the individual feels progress is being made (or even if capacity is felt to have been reached, if such people exist), the means is justified. If not, the way in which we pursue what has been inappropriately labelled happiness, has to change.

I have not illustrated the choices people make merely to give examples of the variety of human endeavour in life. Their presence here is to show that although we are each inclined to pursue capacity differently, it is not the manner in which we go about it that really matters. Perhaps mother was right, after all.

This has consequences. If as a society we could recognise that despite our vast differences, we are all in pursuit of the same goal, could we not then better work together to create an environment where that is facilitated rather than hindered? Could we not use such new-found kinship to eliminate the frictions which arise from the differences in our attitudes, and realise that mutual cooperation is infinitely more effective than distrust and competition? I don't believe that the differences between those Of the Mind and those Of the Body are so great as to be irreconcilable. I believe that given effort, faith and determination, humankind as a whole can realise something much nearer to its capacity just as we are trying to do individually.


Come, will you join me?

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How Id go about stopping George Bush
From coming to Britain.

Disclaimer: (if I have a lot of bodies all at once)

London is not the key city. London is the latch city.

It is more necessary to b e seen at the swimming pool than to go there.

A revolution is a full turn. A cracked Les Paul record from Age Conc/urn can do 78 revolutions in a minute.

A wheel can do as many as a piece of string.

We are on one now.

That now is forever and this moment is seeing as many of them as there are weather forecasts in the sky.

George Bush W I’ll not be in London in a week and the demonstrations will look pointless and pathetic.

The tip of an iceberg is insignificant compared to your mother’s teat.

Neither can you judge a breast by its teat.

A world full of wind is a good way to produce stealth aircraft.

A power cut will sepARATe the computer hackers from the truly resourceful.

Pierce the exclusion zone with masks, go in stark naked except for your bikini.

If they are focusing on nanotechnology, we must go nano in a big way.

Masks are always reversible. Somehow.

If you fear regretting a tattoo, get a tattoo done to resemble a birthmark.

Birthmarks don’t offer you any option, they have been on you since before you were born.

Designed by AbbA – Arabic 4Father

5011921935185citadelempiredetachment

Switch off your screen and allow ourselves to spread the purity.

(sent to me by Suzi Y Riot)

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I was always of the notion that if you truly love something, the easiest image to you is to have it destroyed. Picture in your head the greatest love: is it not defined by what it stands up against? As a society, as a psychological mass, we tend to throw destruction against ourselves to define our survival. The strongest man is the man who can fight without being torn down, but in order to prove this he must, inevitably, fight the most difficult of opponents.

However, this state of psyche is not always the most comforting. For, it inevitably brings to mind all the things that can crush us, that can attack us from all angles. For, if we define our strength by how long our inner walls hold, we can never know our capabilities unless we try to destroy them.

They call it "challenge". Unhappy is the mind that challenges everything, that has nothing as a stable centre, and yet, how strong such a mind!

Love is the most fragile of emotions. Love is that absolute that has notoriously weak walls. This simple fact tempts mankind over and over again to throw away love, to be heartless and callous, to say "fuck you" to all others in order to protect the self.

Take, for instance, when I was cheated on: When my exgirlfriend cheated, I turned completely and utterly cold. Why? Well, if anyone cannot see why, then a shudder must inevitably drench me. I was protecting myself.

I have been quoted as saying "What would a man want a heart for? I am the great Heartless." Okay, maybe not that explicitly, but something along the same vein. And, at times, it is true. To let oneself open to being cheated on is to welcome the enemy into the bloodstream.

However, the logic of this article dictates that I would prove stronger for surviving. And I would have to agree. I learned how to stand up to my weaknesses. I learned how to kill those that would enter my bloodstream for harm. However, sometimes that comes at the cost of not allowing connection with those who would actually wish nothing but love.

So you find the one who is not the enemy. Either that, or you shake them all from your skin, never to let anything or anyone enter. There is only room in my pathway for one such being. My present significant other has infected me at times, but still has remained friend as opposed to enemy. However, I do not think I would have been strong enough to endure the illnesses she has given me, had I not battled a much stronger enemy with my exgirlfriend (cheating).

I say, do not welcome the enemy, curse the enemy, but do not regret the fight. For in destroying one thing, you find something else coming from the fire.

Look at things from a different perspective... imagine loosing the war... what war would it be? That would be different for each person. However, you cannot win a war without anticipating loss, and guarding against your weark walls.

Fight on, and slaughter the opposition.

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I believe that real beauty and power can only be found in humans. In anything else, there is none. For example, trees. Trees make oxygen. They make grass green. They give animals a place to live. They're pretty enough, but that's what they're supposed to be. Pretty, green, good for our continued breathing.

Humans, on the other hand, are born or created as nothing and are given the chance to become something. Trees are there to fulfill an intended function. We can choose to be whatever we want. Sure, we might be born with good looks or a capacity for learning that few others have, but we choose to follow that path and that is where real beauty is. That we choose what is right over what is wrong as often as we do.

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