Hey guys!
sorry it's been so long... you know how it is! well, todays been a bit shit to be honest. It started at 9am with a car crash... I was driving into town to do some decorating at my dad's house. I was driving down a main road, which was perfectly straight, and up ahead I saw a car waiting to pull out into the road from a junction on the left. Then, as I drove past him going about 45mph, he pulled out!! Straight into my passenger door, sending me skidding almost onto the wrong side of the road, where trucks were flying past at high speed! I managed to get the car under control and pulled over. When i got out, I had a quick look at the damage: door caved in, wing scraped and dented, wheel smashed up, and then walked over towards the other guy's car. For some reason he hadn't got out of his car, probably because he knew he'd just nearly caused a major accident and was worried i might hit him! As I got closer I realised that he was about 90 years old! He had glasses as thick as plates and a hearing aid, and his hands were shaking (mind you so were mine!). We exchanged details, but I didn't really manage to get much sense out of him... I kind of felt like telling him off like a kid, but was held back by my embaressment at berating someone 4 times my age!! But the fact is, he shouldn't be on the roads. Even a drunk person wouldn't be useless enough to pull out into the side of a fully visible car! His excuse that I had had my indicator on (I hadn't) and he thought i was going to turn into the turning he was on. What, at 45mph??!! Anyway, the simple fact is that at a certain age ppl are likely to become a danger on the roads, and this guy certainly was.
So anyway, after my crash I managed to drive to my dads and spent the day repainting his living room despite having a stinking cold... but now I've started I have to finish!! Arrghgh! On a brighter note, I just sold my first CD!! Someone who heard me play in a cafe at glastonbury festival e-mailed me and asked to buy a cd!! Woo hoo!! I'm 10 pounds closer to my first million!
btw, the results of the writing competition don't come out till october i think...
right, gotta go to bed, more painting in the morning! :(
laters.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Friday, August 27, 2004
Hey guys,
I'm planning on entering a competition in the Guardian (english newspaper) to win 2500 pounds towards my travels and the chance to write weekly updates for them to print in the paper and put on the website. To enter you have to write 500 words explaining what you want to do with the money, i.e. where u want to go and what challenge you intend to set yourself. The best 4 letters will be featured in the paper and the readers will vote for the best 2. My first attempt ended up being over 1000 words long, but after much brutal editing I have come up with this. let me know what you think:
------
"So what's your plan now?," my friend asked me as we sat drinking our beers.
"Go to India," I replied immediately.
"What??!... But you just got back!! You can't travel forever Billy!"
"Why not?," I asked.
"Because! You need to get a regular job so you can get a good credit rating so you can get a good mortgage and buy a house!."
Right. And then I suppose I've got to change the rooms using MDF and a handmade stencil, go bargain hunting and fill the attic with worthless junk to sell at auction, build a Roman column feature in the garden using cement and an old drainpipe, and then finally sell-up and start again. Ok, yes, I could do that. Or I could wander around India armed with nothing more than a very large smile and a very small guitar, trying to find the most interesting characters in the world and hearing their stories. The most fascinating encounters always come in the most unexpected places. For example:
Whilst filling my water-bottle at the local well in Pushkar, I encountered a man squatting by the pump wearing nothing but a tea-towel wrapped around his waist. He was washing a dirty rag, which on closer inspection revealed itself as his one and only shirt. I gave him a smile and we started chatting. The conversation seemed fairly typical at first. Name? Married? But once he found out I came from England it all went rather surreal.
"England!!" he exclaimed. "Ahhh, I like very much English movies! Hitchcock he is my favourite!!"
I was speechless.
"What movies he make!" he sighed, gazing off through the cows and pigs eating a pile of nearby rubbish. He then listed about fifteen of Hitchcock's movies, commenting on particularly good performances by actors I'd never heard of. We continued discussing Hitchcock's directorial technique for some time while he squatted in his tea-towel and pounded his soapy shirt on a slab of rock. Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I asked him how he knew so much about movies.
He told me he'd studied film at university in Gujarat, where he'd lived with his wife and children and held a respectable job. Then in 0000, the earthquake struck, killing his entire family, destroying his house, and almost claiming his legs. He only escaped the amputations by dragging himself out of the hospital window and using his life-savings to pay a private doctor to operate. Left with nothing, he hitched to Pushkar, and has been there ever since, living in a makeshift tent on the edge of town. He considers himself a lucky man. He survived.
India is a country overflowing with stories, some already happened, some waiting to happen. Rather than searching for these stories, I plan to draw them to me like The Pied Piper, wandering the country playing my small guitar out in the open and allowing them to find me, like they always do; the discovery of each story a story in itself.
I'm planning on entering a competition in the Guardian (english newspaper) to win 2500 pounds towards my travels and the chance to write weekly updates for them to print in the paper and put on the website. To enter you have to write 500 words explaining what you want to do with the money, i.e. where u want to go and what challenge you intend to set yourself. The best 4 letters will be featured in the paper and the readers will vote for the best 2. My first attempt ended up being over 1000 words long, but after much brutal editing I have come up with this. let me know what you think:
------
"So what's your plan now?," my friend asked me as we sat drinking our beers.
"Go to India," I replied immediately.
"What??!... But you just got back!! You can't travel forever Billy!"
"Why not?," I asked.
"Because! You need to get a regular job so you can get a good credit rating so you can get a good mortgage and buy a house!."
Right. And then I suppose I've got to change the rooms using MDF and a handmade stencil, go bargain hunting and fill the attic with worthless junk to sell at auction, build a Roman column feature in the garden using cement and an old drainpipe, and then finally sell-up and start again. Ok, yes, I could do that. Or I could wander around India armed with nothing more than a very large smile and a very small guitar, trying to find the most interesting characters in the world and hearing their stories. The most fascinating encounters always come in the most unexpected places. For example:
Whilst filling my water-bottle at the local well in Pushkar, I encountered a man squatting by the pump wearing nothing but a tea-towel wrapped around his waist. He was washing a dirty rag, which on closer inspection revealed itself as his one and only shirt. I gave him a smile and we started chatting. The conversation seemed fairly typical at first. Name? Married? But once he found out I came from England it all went rather surreal.
"England!!" he exclaimed. "Ahhh, I like very much English movies! Hitchcock he is my favourite!!"
I was speechless.
"What movies he make!" he sighed, gazing off through the cows and pigs eating a pile of nearby rubbish. He then listed about fifteen of Hitchcock's movies, commenting on particularly good performances by actors I'd never heard of. We continued discussing Hitchcock's directorial technique for some time while he squatted in his tea-towel and pounded his soapy shirt on a slab of rock. Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I asked him how he knew so much about movies.
He told me he'd studied film at university in Gujarat, where he'd lived with his wife and children and held a respectable job. Then in 0000, the earthquake struck, killing his entire family, destroying his house, and almost claiming his legs. He only escaped the amputations by dragging himself out of the hospital window and using his life-savings to pay a private doctor to operate. Left with nothing, he hitched to Pushkar, and has been there ever since, living in a makeshift tent on the edge of town. He considers himself a lucky man. He survived.
India is a country overflowing with stories, some already happened, some waiting to happen. Rather than searching for these stories, I plan to draw them to me like The Pied Piper, wandering the country playing my small guitar out in the open and allowing them to find me, like they always do; the discovery of each story a story in itself.
---
So, there it is. Man, if only I could win that'd be so damn cool. 2500!! oh, and a digital camera as well!! Actually, more than the money I just want the chance to have my travel writing featured in the paper!!! ok, tara for now...
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Hahahaha!!! I'm in the hereford library using the internet, and i just tried to go to my www.undercoverhippy.com site, but got this response (with a huge red "Stop" logo at the top):
You cannot access the following Web address:
http://www.undercoverhippy.com/
The site you requested is blocked under your organization's filtering policy. It fits into the following filtering category(ies) that your organization has chosen to block: Tasteless/Gross
You can:
Submit a site review request to your network administrator.
Temporarily bypass filtering on this computer if you have an authorized override name and password. (Note that your administrator may be notified that you've bypassed filtering.)
Use your browser's Back button or enter a different Web address to continue.
Lol!! What is tasteless/gross about my site?? And anyway, how do they know?? There must be 1000's of kids all over the world being denied access to my site by the parental controls set up by their folks, just cos someone, or maybe even some piece of software, has decided my site is gross and tasteless!! oh well, i guess they didn't like the design.... Ahmad, it must be your artwork, cos it sure as hell aint my music! :)
right, times up! laters!
You cannot access the following Web address:
http://www.undercoverhippy.com/
The site you requested is blocked under your organization's filtering policy. It fits into the following filtering category(ies) that your organization has chosen to block: Tasteless/Gross
You can:
Submit a site review request to your network administrator.
Temporarily bypass filtering on this computer if you have an authorized override name and password. (Note that your administrator may be notified that you've bypassed filtering.)
Use your browser's Back button or enter a different Web address to continue.
Lol!! What is tasteless/gross about my site?? And anyway, how do they know?? There must be 1000's of kids all over the world being denied access to my site by the parental controls set up by their folks, just cos someone, or maybe even some piece of software, has decided my site is gross and tasteless!! oh well, i guess they didn't like the design.... Ahmad, it must be your artwork, cos it sure as hell aint my music! :)
right, times up! laters!
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Wow, what a beutiful day!
It's been so sunny today! It's like summer is finally here! (except that it's forcast to be horrible tomorrow...). I went into town today and did some busking (playing music in public for money). It's the first time I've ever done any busking in England, and I have to say, I was a little nervous. So I set myself up at the opening of a nice little cobbled street called "Church street" which opens out onto the Cathedral Close, a small park outside the Cathedral. After I'd sung about 3 songs, a guy came over with a guitar case and said
"You jammin?".
"Ummmm", I said.
"Great", he said as he pulled his guitar out.
"Tanglewood huh?", he commented pointing to my guitar.
"Uh huh", I replied, wanting to carry on singing my next song.
"Are those heavy gauge or light gauge strings?".
"Ummm, heavy i think".
"Ahhhhhh" he said, nodding sagely. "What's the action like?".
"Ummmmm".
"So what do you play?".
"Ummm, all sorts really".
"Yeah? Well I'll just play to you then, I can play pretty much anything. Been playing for 15 years".
He looked at me waiting for my acknowledgement of this achievement.
"Uh huh".
"Ok", I said, "this is one of mine. It's pretty simple, just four chords: Am, Em, Dm, F". I played it through to show him the rhythm. He started joining in, but every time he would start one bar too late, so i would play Am, then as I moved on to Em he would come in with Am as if we were playing a round. After about 10 mins of this I finally managed to convince him to start and let me join in....
I managed to play the song through despite his noisy uptempo twanging beside me, and when i finally finished he turned to me and said, "I was pretty good considering I never played that before huh?". "Uh huhhhh". I started trying to play another song, but now he began to play something completely different right next to me, banging out seemingly random chords and riffs. All through this encounter, a girl who I assumed to be his girlfriend was standing in front of us with a walkman on and only one headphone stuffed in one ear, dancing to a combination of her own music and my guitar, and grinning inanely. In the end I decided enough was enough. "Actually to be honest mate, It's a little bit distracting having you playing stuff next to me like that...". I was expecting him to be a bit offended and tell me to piss of or something, but he did the complete opposite. "Shit, sorry mate!! I'll come back later and see if your still here then. You gonna be here long?". I wasn't quite sure where this was leading. "Ummm, I'm not sure, probably... it's a beatiful day for it". Alright then mate, well I'll pop back in a couple of hours and see if the spots free.. I'm homeless you see.", and with that he was gone. Yes, I am officially a bastard. It's just as well I didn't play him my song about the homeless guy... But how was I to know?! He was wearing all clean clothes and looked pretty ok to me... Oh well, maybe next time he'll get the spot first and I'll be able to give him a couple of quid...
right, somehow it has manged to become 10pm, but it has only just got dark so I still feel like it's early evening! better go and watch tv!! Who knows what treats I could be missing!!!! (for interesting cross examination of Billy's reassimilation, go read february's posts...).
It's been so sunny today! It's like summer is finally here! (except that it's forcast to be horrible tomorrow...). I went into town today and did some busking (playing music in public for money). It's the first time I've ever done any busking in England, and I have to say, I was a little nervous. So I set myself up at the opening of a nice little cobbled street called "Church street" which opens out onto the Cathedral Close, a small park outside the Cathedral. After I'd sung about 3 songs, a guy came over with a guitar case and said
"You jammin?".
"Ummmm", I said.
"Great", he said as he pulled his guitar out.
"Tanglewood huh?", he commented pointing to my guitar.
"Uh huh", I replied, wanting to carry on singing my next song.
"Are those heavy gauge or light gauge strings?".
"Ummm, heavy i think".
"Ahhhhhh" he said, nodding sagely. "What's the action like?".
"Ummmmm".
"So what do you play?".
"Ummm, all sorts really".
"Yeah? Well I'll just play to you then, I can play pretty much anything. Been playing for 15 years".
He looked at me waiting for my acknowledgement of this achievement.
"Uh huh".
"Ok", I said, "this is one of mine. It's pretty simple, just four chords: Am, Em, Dm, F". I played it through to show him the rhythm. He started joining in, but every time he would start one bar too late, so i would play Am, then as I moved on to Em he would come in with Am as if we were playing a round. After about 10 mins of this I finally managed to convince him to start and let me join in....
I managed to play the song through despite his noisy uptempo twanging beside me, and when i finally finished he turned to me and said, "I was pretty good considering I never played that before huh?". "Uh huhhhh". I started trying to play another song, but now he began to play something completely different right next to me, banging out seemingly random chords and riffs. All through this encounter, a girl who I assumed to be his girlfriend was standing in front of us with a walkman on and only one headphone stuffed in one ear, dancing to a combination of her own music and my guitar, and grinning inanely. In the end I decided enough was enough. "Actually to be honest mate, It's a little bit distracting having you playing stuff next to me like that...". I was expecting him to be a bit offended and tell me to piss of or something, but he did the complete opposite. "Shit, sorry mate!! I'll come back later and see if your still here then. You gonna be here long?". I wasn't quite sure where this was leading. "Ummm, I'm not sure, probably... it's a beatiful day for it". Alright then mate, well I'll pop back in a couple of hours and see if the spots free.. I'm homeless you see.", and with that he was gone. Yes, I am officially a bastard. It's just as well I didn't play him my song about the homeless guy... But how was I to know?! He was wearing all clean clothes and looked pretty ok to me... Oh well, maybe next time he'll get the spot first and I'll be able to give him a couple of quid...
right, somehow it has manged to become 10pm, but it has only just got dark so I still feel like it's early evening! better go and watch tv!! Who knows what treats I could be missing!!!! (for interesting cross examination of Billy's reassimilation, go read february's posts...).
Friday, May 14, 2004
Hey guys!
Remember I was working with street kids in a small school in India? WEll they've just finished a new website, and it has lots of great photos (some taken by me, some of me) on there, so go check it out. Also, if you've got a bit of spare cash and you feel like helping a worthy cause... Anyway, check it out: www.joshuakids.org
Remember I was working with street kids in a small school in India? WEll they've just finished a new website, and it has lots of great photos (some taken by me, some of me) on there, so go check it out. Also, if you've got a bit of spare cash and you feel like helping a worthy cause... Anyway, check it out: www.joshuakids.org
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Owwww, my eyes hurt!! I came on to write a post, and ended up reading other ppl's blogs for over an hour... I discovered that there is some really fascinating perspectives on the Iraq situation coming from Iraq itself as people begin to to gain access to the internet there.... check it out for yourself:
http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/iraq/2004-04-20-bloggers_x.htm
http://www.dear_raed.blogspot.com
http://www.blogjam.com/wires/
Also, I've added some updated songs I've written to download in MP3 format at http://www.billysalisbury.com/songs
right, bedtime.
http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/iraq/2004-04-20-bloggers_x.htm
http://www.dear_raed.blogspot.com
http://www.blogjam.com/wires/
Also, I've added some updated songs I've written to download in MP3 format at http://www.billysalisbury.com/songs
right, bedtime.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Orrite.
Names Steve. Steve Pratt. I'm jus riting to say that billy won be writn vis fing anymore cos he dusnt exhist anymore. I av taken control of iz body, due to ve fact that mine died free weeks ago. So ver I was, floatin around the buildin site, lookin down at my crushed body liyin lifeless under the collapsd pile of brix, and i finks to myself, ang on, vis aint right, so i decides jus to ignor it n wanders off. aneway, efenchally i finds this place wiv all these people sitting cross legged in a big room, and i sees that all their heads is wide open like, wiv lights comin out and stuff, so i goes over for a beter look, n before yoo know it, I've jumped inside this blokes head, and I'm like, in his body and stuff. Obviously he's not too happy, an he starts shouting and screaming an evryfing, telling me to pis of out of his head, but he's a bit of a pussy, so i just give im a few slaps an e shuts up in the end...[im still here....!]...so anyway, I dusn wanna raise any suspishon, so i goes on doing what evrywun else is doin...[helllllp meeeeee]...n evenchally after some more days of bein bored out my face, i get's picked up by this nice old gal who takes me home and makes me tea.... I bin ere evr since [got...to...regain...control......]...just angin out n shit... this bodys a bit shit mind...[Oi!]...it's all puny n skinny...not like me old one...but then again me old ones all crushed so i spose i cant complane...[If..I...can...just...reach..the...frontal...lobe...]...apparntlee i gota start a new job tomora tho which is a bit of bummer... [Yes!...I've done it!...Now if I can just seal off the main ventricle.... done it!! ................................. Yes! He's gone!! I'mmmm Baaaaaaaack!!!!! Woo Hoo! Hi Guys! Well, after 5 days of being posessed by Steve, my body is in a right state. He's been using it to binge on alcohol and eat large amounts of red meat ever since we left the meditation centre, completely ruining my karmic credit rating! So I suppose you'll want to know what happened in there huh? Ok...where to begin...?
Arrived. Met 2 guys I was sharing room with. Both nice guys. Good start. had food, went to bed. Next morning, noble silence began. This means you cannot speak to anyone, or even make eye contact. All forms of communication are a no no. Get up at 4 am, meditate all day, go to bed at 9:30pm. 12 hours of meditation a day. That's 12 hours of sitting (in my case kneeling) on a cushion. After a few days you have to start kneeling without moving at all for at least one hour at a stretch, no matter how much pain you are going through. Sounds like torture doesn't it? Well it kind of is, and for the first few attempts I got really pissed off and angry at the whole situation, but then things started changing.... here's a quick explanation of why:
Accoring to the teachings of Buddah (Not buddism, just his pure teachings), all misery and suffereing are the result of craving and aversion, i.e. wanting things you don't have or not wanting things you do have. This doesn't just mean material posessions. Take the pain in my knees for example. I didn't want it to be there. I disliked it. I had an aversion towards it. This made me miserable, angry, frustrated. I wanted it to go away, I wanted to move, I wanted to go back to bed, lie down and go to sleep. This also made me miserable, angry, and frustrated. So did the pain make me miserable? How could it? It's just a physical sensation. A biochemical reaction. A bunch of sub-atomic particles behaving in a perfectly natural way as nature intended them to behave. So what made me miserable? My reaction. By reacting to my pain with craving and aversion, I made it double. And did it help in the long run? Not at all, becasue after the hour was up, i stood up and walked around, and the pain went away, so all the misery was for nothing. The next time I went to meditate, i tried to do what the teacher said.... observe my sensations... be completely equanimous towards all my sensations, i.e. be objective and simply observe, whether they are pleasant or unpleasant. The pain returned to my knees and I went down to take a look. In my minds eye I watched as my knees began to throb with searing red pain. I measured how far the pain spread from it's epicentre, observed how it caused shooting pains up the muscles of the shin, stood by and watched, fascinated, as my pumping heart caused tremendous pulsing waves of pain the flow around my whole lower leg. Every now and then a voice in my head would cry "What are you doing?!! You're going to permanently damage yourself!! This is too much!! This pain is UNBEARABLE!!!". Unbearable. What does that mean? It just means that you can't resist the urge to react. After all, if your leg was trapped under a bus and the pain was unbearable, what would you do? Bear it, obviously. By the end of the week I had named my various pains and grown quite fond of them! My ankle pains were tracy and jenny. When I became bored of just observing, i would sometimes invent little games for them, getting them to compete against one another to produce the most intense sensation. "Come on Tracy!!!! Jenny's making a laughing stock of you girl!! You can do better than that!! Put you shin into it girl!!" and so on. My knees were called Tom and George. They weren't quite so manic as tracy and jenny, and I would usually just sit and have polite conversations with them: "Mornin Tom, how's things? You seem a bit angry to be honest tom. You can calm down if you like you know? No? Ok, never mind, I'll pop back later....".
It's not all about enduring pain of course, this is just one of the most striking examples I can give. It's about training your body not to react to sensation with the blind reactions of craving and aversion. What buddah discovered was that our reactions are not a direct result of stimuli from the external world. What actualy happens is that something happens outside, we see/hear/taste/feel/smell it, and that triggers and sensation within our body, which we then react to. We get the impression that we are reacting directly to the external world, but that is not the case. Because of this, it is possible to train your body to become more aware of the sensations within, to recognise them when they occur, and to refrain from blind reaction, giving you the opportunity to evaluate the situation logically with your wisdom and intellect, and react accordingly.
For example. Somebody sitting near you on the train decides to test out all the ringtones on their mobile phone. You hear the sound, and understand what it means. This triggers a number of physical reactions in your body. Your muscles tighten, your breath quickens, you pulse begins to race, your temperature rises... all in the space of a second. Then you feel anger rising in your throat. What a fucking imbecile!!! doesn't he know there are other people on the train??!! God it makes your blood boil!!! This anger triggers more physical reactions in the body, more intense than the last, and so the cycle continues. You become more and more angry. You lose interest in your book, you can't read anymore. Even with your headphones in, you can still just hear his phone in the background, and it's enough to keep you angry. You think about going over and grabbing the phone off him, shoving it down his throat.............. but ultimately you do nothing. Later on, once you have calmed down, you may think to yourself, "I wish i hadn't got so angry, cos it didn't change anything", but by now it's too late, and you still haven't taken responsibility for your misery.
Now imagine it again. The phone starts going. Your body starts producing sensations. You notice the sensations, and before the emotion of anger has even begun, you start to observe the physical changes taking place within your body. "Oh! Look at that! It looks like i'm about to get angry!! Mmmm, do I want to get angry? I mean his phone is pretty annoying, but me getting angry will just make me miserable, so there's not much point really... and after all, it is just some noise hitting my eardrum, and it won't last forever......".
By now you may be thinking, "Hey, this actually makes a lot of sense! I might start doing this! I'm sick of being miserable because of my own reactions". But it's not that simple. There are three levels of understanding. The first is to believe it because I said it. The second is to analyze what I say, maybe go and get out a few books about it, use your intellect to assess all the information, and then agree with what you have discovered and understand it. The third is to know and understand it through personal experience. Only with the third level of understanding is it possible to actually change the habit pattern of your mind.
All of this is the teaching of Buddah, but is is not the most important aspect of his teaching. Buddism tend to focus on the knowledge aspect, i.e. the second level of understanding, but Buddah himself emphasised time and time again that all this knowledge was practically useless without the knowlege of personal experience, which is why his main goal was to teach people a practical technique that would enable them to experience these thruths for themselves, and ultimately come out of misery and become truly happy. The technique is vipassana meditation. It's not complicated. In fact it's so simple that if I explained it to you here you'd probably try it once and then write it off as a load of bollox. You need to do 10 days to really experience what it is for. And it's not all pain. There are times when you feel amazingly pleasant sensations where you lose yourself in a sea of tingling. But this is almost more of a challenge then the pain, because as soon as the sensation leaves, as ultimately it must (nothing is permanent!) you find yourself craving for more!!! And if you can't get more.... Arrrghgh! Misery! Another lesson learnt..... but not just at the intellectual level of the mind. This lesson is being learnt at the deepest level of the mind, which is in the sensations of the body, and therefore is actually changing the habit pattern of your mind.....
Anyway, if you want to know more, you can go to www.dhamma.org
There is a centre in herefordshire (www.dipa.dhamma.org). To attend a 10 day course is free. All your food and lodging is free. This is because previous students have made donations so that others can recieve the benefits they recieved. At the end you have the option to give a donation of any amount, but it's not compulsory. The people taking the course come in all shapes and sizes (not just a bunch of new age hippies). The food is bloody great (total steiner food).
I'll write some more about my own personal experiences later... like how 10 days of not talking made me talk to pheasants.... :)
Names Steve. Steve Pratt. I'm jus riting to say that billy won be writn vis fing anymore cos he dusnt exhist anymore. I av taken control of iz body, due to ve fact that mine died free weeks ago. So ver I was, floatin around the buildin site, lookin down at my crushed body liyin lifeless under the collapsd pile of brix, and i finks to myself, ang on, vis aint right, so i decides jus to ignor it n wanders off. aneway, efenchally i finds this place wiv all these people sitting cross legged in a big room, and i sees that all their heads is wide open like, wiv lights comin out and stuff, so i goes over for a beter look, n before yoo know it, I've jumped inside this blokes head, and I'm like, in his body and stuff. Obviously he's not too happy, an he starts shouting and screaming an evryfing, telling me to pis of out of his head, but he's a bit of a pussy, so i just give im a few slaps an e shuts up in the end...[im still here....!]...so anyway, I dusn wanna raise any suspishon, so i goes on doing what evrywun else is doin...[helllllp meeeeee]...n evenchally after some more days of bein bored out my face, i get's picked up by this nice old gal who takes me home and makes me tea.... I bin ere evr since [got...to...regain...control......]...just angin out n shit... this bodys a bit shit mind...[Oi!]...it's all puny n skinny...not like me old one...but then again me old ones all crushed so i spose i cant complane...[If..I...can...just...reach..the...frontal...lobe...]...apparntlee i gota start a new job tomora tho which is a bit of bummer... [Yes!...I've done it!...Now if I can just seal off the main ventricle.... done it!! ................................. Yes! He's gone!! I'mmmm Baaaaaaaack!!!!! Woo Hoo! Hi Guys! Well, after 5 days of being posessed by Steve, my body is in a right state. He's been using it to binge on alcohol and eat large amounts of red meat ever since we left the meditation centre, completely ruining my karmic credit rating! So I suppose you'll want to know what happened in there huh? Ok...where to begin...?
Arrived. Met 2 guys I was sharing room with. Both nice guys. Good start. had food, went to bed. Next morning, noble silence began. This means you cannot speak to anyone, or even make eye contact. All forms of communication are a no no. Get up at 4 am, meditate all day, go to bed at 9:30pm. 12 hours of meditation a day. That's 12 hours of sitting (in my case kneeling) on a cushion. After a few days you have to start kneeling without moving at all for at least one hour at a stretch, no matter how much pain you are going through. Sounds like torture doesn't it? Well it kind of is, and for the first few attempts I got really pissed off and angry at the whole situation, but then things started changing.... here's a quick explanation of why:
Accoring to the teachings of Buddah (Not buddism, just his pure teachings), all misery and suffereing are the result of craving and aversion, i.e. wanting things you don't have or not wanting things you do have. This doesn't just mean material posessions. Take the pain in my knees for example. I didn't want it to be there. I disliked it. I had an aversion towards it. This made me miserable, angry, frustrated. I wanted it to go away, I wanted to move, I wanted to go back to bed, lie down and go to sleep. This also made me miserable, angry, and frustrated. So did the pain make me miserable? How could it? It's just a physical sensation. A biochemical reaction. A bunch of sub-atomic particles behaving in a perfectly natural way as nature intended them to behave. So what made me miserable? My reaction. By reacting to my pain with craving and aversion, I made it double. And did it help in the long run? Not at all, becasue after the hour was up, i stood up and walked around, and the pain went away, so all the misery was for nothing. The next time I went to meditate, i tried to do what the teacher said.... observe my sensations... be completely equanimous towards all my sensations, i.e. be objective and simply observe, whether they are pleasant or unpleasant. The pain returned to my knees and I went down to take a look. In my minds eye I watched as my knees began to throb with searing red pain. I measured how far the pain spread from it's epicentre, observed how it caused shooting pains up the muscles of the shin, stood by and watched, fascinated, as my pumping heart caused tremendous pulsing waves of pain the flow around my whole lower leg. Every now and then a voice in my head would cry "What are you doing?!! You're going to permanently damage yourself!! This is too much!! This pain is UNBEARABLE!!!". Unbearable. What does that mean? It just means that you can't resist the urge to react. After all, if your leg was trapped under a bus and the pain was unbearable, what would you do? Bear it, obviously. By the end of the week I had named my various pains and grown quite fond of them! My ankle pains were tracy and jenny. When I became bored of just observing, i would sometimes invent little games for them, getting them to compete against one another to produce the most intense sensation. "Come on Tracy!!!! Jenny's making a laughing stock of you girl!! You can do better than that!! Put you shin into it girl!!" and so on. My knees were called Tom and George. They weren't quite so manic as tracy and jenny, and I would usually just sit and have polite conversations with them: "Mornin Tom, how's things? You seem a bit angry to be honest tom. You can calm down if you like you know? No? Ok, never mind, I'll pop back later....".
It's not all about enduring pain of course, this is just one of the most striking examples I can give. It's about training your body not to react to sensation with the blind reactions of craving and aversion. What buddah discovered was that our reactions are not a direct result of stimuli from the external world. What actualy happens is that something happens outside, we see/hear/taste/feel/smell it, and that triggers and sensation within our body, which we then react to. We get the impression that we are reacting directly to the external world, but that is not the case. Because of this, it is possible to train your body to become more aware of the sensations within, to recognise them when they occur, and to refrain from blind reaction, giving you the opportunity to evaluate the situation logically with your wisdom and intellect, and react accordingly.
For example. Somebody sitting near you on the train decides to test out all the ringtones on their mobile phone. You hear the sound, and understand what it means. This triggers a number of physical reactions in your body. Your muscles tighten, your breath quickens, you pulse begins to race, your temperature rises... all in the space of a second. Then you feel anger rising in your throat. What a fucking imbecile!!! doesn't he know there are other people on the train??!! God it makes your blood boil!!! This anger triggers more physical reactions in the body, more intense than the last, and so the cycle continues. You become more and more angry. You lose interest in your book, you can't read anymore. Even with your headphones in, you can still just hear his phone in the background, and it's enough to keep you angry. You think about going over and grabbing the phone off him, shoving it down his throat.............. but ultimately you do nothing. Later on, once you have calmed down, you may think to yourself, "I wish i hadn't got so angry, cos it didn't change anything", but by now it's too late, and you still haven't taken responsibility for your misery.
Now imagine it again. The phone starts going. Your body starts producing sensations. You notice the sensations, and before the emotion of anger has even begun, you start to observe the physical changes taking place within your body. "Oh! Look at that! It looks like i'm about to get angry!! Mmmm, do I want to get angry? I mean his phone is pretty annoying, but me getting angry will just make me miserable, so there's not much point really... and after all, it is just some noise hitting my eardrum, and it won't last forever......".
By now you may be thinking, "Hey, this actually makes a lot of sense! I might start doing this! I'm sick of being miserable because of my own reactions". But it's not that simple. There are three levels of understanding. The first is to believe it because I said it. The second is to analyze what I say, maybe go and get out a few books about it, use your intellect to assess all the information, and then agree with what you have discovered and understand it. The third is to know and understand it through personal experience. Only with the third level of understanding is it possible to actually change the habit pattern of your mind.
All of this is the teaching of Buddah, but is is not the most important aspect of his teaching. Buddism tend to focus on the knowledge aspect, i.e. the second level of understanding, but Buddah himself emphasised time and time again that all this knowledge was practically useless without the knowlege of personal experience, which is why his main goal was to teach people a practical technique that would enable them to experience these thruths for themselves, and ultimately come out of misery and become truly happy. The technique is vipassana meditation. It's not complicated. In fact it's so simple that if I explained it to you here you'd probably try it once and then write it off as a load of bollox. You need to do 10 days to really experience what it is for. And it's not all pain. There are times when you feel amazingly pleasant sensations where you lose yourself in a sea of tingling. But this is almost more of a challenge then the pain, because as soon as the sensation leaves, as ultimately it must (nothing is permanent!) you find yourself craving for more!!! And if you can't get more.... Arrrghgh! Misery! Another lesson learnt..... but not just at the intellectual level of the mind. This lesson is being learnt at the deepest level of the mind, which is in the sensations of the body, and therefore is actually changing the habit pattern of your mind.....
Anyway, if you want to know more, you can go to www.dhamma.org
There is a centre in herefordshire (www.dipa.dhamma.org). To attend a 10 day course is free. All your food and lodging is free. This is because previous students have made donations so that others can recieve the benefits they recieved. At the end you have the option to give a donation of any amount, but it's not compulsory. The people taking the course come in all shapes and sizes (not just a bunch of new age hippies). The food is bloody great (total steiner food).
I'll write some more about my own personal experiences later... like how 10 days of not talking made me talk to pheasants.... :)
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Toothache Medication to Deep State Meditation
Well, this is it. The day has arrived, and I must go. It's been a pleasure knowing you all, and i'm sure you all understand that once I return from these 10 days of soul searching i will most likely be on a different spiritual plane from the rest of you, and therefore unable to associate with you any longer. Well, maybe not. But hey, who knows? Will it change me? Will my blogs become all puritanical and preachy? Will I start behaving like a born again christian? Maybe an evil spirit will use use my spiritually vulnerable state during deep meditation to take control of my body and use it for unspeakable evil acts..... maybe I will have an epiphany and realise that I am in fact the son of god and you will all have to worship me and call me "my lord".... or maybe, just maybe, I'll spend the whole 10 days silently cursing the nazi hippies who have imprisoned me and dreaming of Mars Ice Creams and re-runs of "Black Books" on Channel 4. It's anybody's guess. All I know is that it's too late to back out now. For better or for worse I am going to sit in silence for 10 days and see what happens. Hopefully it'll make for some good writing material!
By the way, I now have a car!!! My first ever car! And I've bought insurance as well! Now all I need is for the car to work and I'm away!!! Don't worry, it will, I'm going to meditate on it.
I went to the dentist yesterday. Fucking bastard. If you weren't aware, the situation with NHS Dentists in england is a complete nightmare. Basically there aren't any. So the only option for people who can't afford to go private like myself is to wait until they are in sever pain, and then go down to the emergency drop-in centre for some emergency treatment. So, yesterday, having put up with my toothache for long enough for it to reach an acceptable level of pain, I set of for the clinic. As luck would have it they had an appointment only an hour after I arrived, so i sat down to wait. Just over an hour later, a little rat-like man in a white overcoat came and poked his head around the door. "Bily Salisbury", he announced. I got up and folowed him into the surgery and sat myself down. Now I had been practising my explanation of my problems all morning, so it was pretty damn clear, but as I tried to give it, he kept interrupting me, not really listening at all. When I had finished, he had a look in my mouth and exclaimed,
"Well, I don't know what your talking about, you've got a perfect set of teeth!!".
I tried once again to explain to him that I believed there was decay under one of my fillings, as it was a very deep filling and had had decay deep in the tooth when it was put in. He ignored me completely and started talking about the other side of my jaw as I had mentioned that it also hurt me occasionally. He pointed to it and said
"How much and how often and what kind of pain?" in a brisk irritable manner.
I pointed to the right side of my jaw and began to say, "well on this side..." planning to explain that the left side was basically just a lesser version of what I felt on the right.
"That's not what i asked you is it?!!!", he interrupted aggressively.
"Yeah, but I need to...",
"JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!" he barked at me like a psychotic school master from hell.
I was stunned. Medical proffesionals don't talk to there patients do they??? I suddenly had a strong urge to say something offensive and caught myself back just in time, after all, this man was in a position to inflict a lot of pain with little or no consequences to himself... best to play it safe.
"If you'll just let me finish I think you'll understand what I'm trying to say...", I managed, and finally got him to listen to my explanation.
But still he wasn't really listening. Each time i described the part that was hurting, he simply heard what he wanted to hear, and kept attributing it to a wisdom tooth. In the end he got irritable again.
"Well what do you want me to do?! Do you want me to drill out that perfectly good filling just to look underneath?? Is that what you want me to do??".
"Well I don't know, you're the dentist!! I'm just telling you what i think the problem is!"
"Well you have to tell me, what do you want me to do!"
Surely this wasn't normal? Usually the dentist suggests the best course of action and asks you if you want to go along with it, doesn't he?
I was starting to get the impression that this dentist had actually realised I was probably right but just didn't wan't admit that maybe he was wrong, so instead of suggesting the action, was trying to bully me into requesting it. What a cocksucker!
"Ok, please take that filling out and look underneath"...
As soon as i had taken resposibility for the procedure, his mood changed completely!! He started using phrases like "Oookayy, well done, that's the worst of it over.." and even smiling occasionally! Then, after drilling for about 5 minutes, he stoped smiling and his face went blank. Rather than the usual running commentary that dentists give, he was completely silent. Eventually, after scraping around inside my tooth, he finally came clean.
"Ahem. Ahhh, right. Now, there was some decay in there, and I've done my best to get it out. I think I've got it all out. Now it's a much more complicated filling than I thought, so I'm just gonna put a sedative dressing in there and a temporary filling, and then you'll have to make an appointment with a entist as soon as possible to have the filling done."
Whaaaaaat!!!!!!! Why do you think I'm here you fucking A-Hole?? because I don't HAVE a dentist!!!! There ARE no dentists!! And now I have only a month (10 days of which are going to be spent meditating and trying to purge you from my brain) in which to get it sorted before this poxy mix of tipp-ex and cotton wool falls out and leaves me in agony!!
Back at home later that day I tried to call around the NHS Dental Surgerys to see if I could get an appointment to have the filling done.
"Ok sir, I can put you on the witing list if you like?".
"Umm, how long is the waiting list roughly?"
"Roughly? Ohhh, about err 12 months".
"12 months??!!! You're kidding me right??"
"No sir, that's the waiting list I'm afraid".
"But your emergency dentist has just put in a temporary filling that only lasts a month!! So what do I do when it falls out?!"
"Well, if you're in pain you can always make an appointment at our emergency drop-in centre for some emergency treatment..........
I give up.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed that tale from the darkside... see you all in 10 days!
Well, this is it. The day has arrived, and I must go. It's been a pleasure knowing you all, and i'm sure you all understand that once I return from these 10 days of soul searching i will most likely be on a different spiritual plane from the rest of you, and therefore unable to associate with you any longer. Well, maybe not. But hey, who knows? Will it change me? Will my blogs become all puritanical and preachy? Will I start behaving like a born again christian? Maybe an evil spirit will use use my spiritually vulnerable state during deep meditation to take control of my body and use it for unspeakable evil acts..... maybe I will have an epiphany and realise that I am in fact the son of god and you will all have to worship me and call me "my lord".... or maybe, just maybe, I'll spend the whole 10 days silently cursing the nazi hippies who have imprisoned me and dreaming of Mars Ice Creams and re-runs of "Black Books" on Channel 4. It's anybody's guess. All I know is that it's too late to back out now. For better or for worse I am going to sit in silence for 10 days and see what happens. Hopefully it'll make for some good writing material!
By the way, I now have a car!!! My first ever car! And I've bought insurance as well! Now all I need is for the car to work and I'm away!!! Don't worry, it will, I'm going to meditate on it.
I went to the dentist yesterday. Fucking bastard. If you weren't aware, the situation with NHS Dentists in england is a complete nightmare. Basically there aren't any. So the only option for people who can't afford to go private like myself is to wait until they are in sever pain, and then go down to the emergency drop-in centre for some emergency treatment. So, yesterday, having put up with my toothache for long enough for it to reach an acceptable level of pain, I set of for the clinic. As luck would have it they had an appointment only an hour after I arrived, so i sat down to wait. Just over an hour later, a little rat-like man in a white overcoat came and poked his head around the door. "Bily Salisbury", he announced. I got up and folowed him into the surgery and sat myself down. Now I had been practising my explanation of my problems all morning, so it was pretty damn clear, but as I tried to give it, he kept interrupting me, not really listening at all. When I had finished, he had a look in my mouth and exclaimed,
"Well, I don't know what your talking about, you've got a perfect set of teeth!!".
I tried once again to explain to him that I believed there was decay under one of my fillings, as it was a very deep filling and had had decay deep in the tooth when it was put in. He ignored me completely and started talking about the other side of my jaw as I had mentioned that it also hurt me occasionally. He pointed to it and said
"How much and how often and what kind of pain?" in a brisk irritable manner.
I pointed to the right side of my jaw and began to say, "well on this side..." planning to explain that the left side was basically just a lesser version of what I felt on the right.
"That's not what i asked you is it?!!!", he interrupted aggressively.
"Yeah, but I need to...",
"JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!" he barked at me like a psychotic school master from hell.
I was stunned. Medical proffesionals don't talk to there patients do they??? I suddenly had a strong urge to say something offensive and caught myself back just in time, after all, this man was in a position to inflict a lot of pain with little or no consequences to himself... best to play it safe.
"If you'll just let me finish I think you'll understand what I'm trying to say...", I managed, and finally got him to listen to my explanation.
But still he wasn't really listening. Each time i described the part that was hurting, he simply heard what he wanted to hear, and kept attributing it to a wisdom tooth. In the end he got irritable again.
"Well what do you want me to do?! Do you want me to drill out that perfectly good filling just to look underneath?? Is that what you want me to do??".
"Well I don't know, you're the dentist!! I'm just telling you what i think the problem is!"
"Well you have to tell me, what do you want me to do!"
Surely this wasn't normal? Usually the dentist suggests the best course of action and asks you if you want to go along with it, doesn't he?
I was starting to get the impression that this dentist had actually realised I was probably right but just didn't wan't admit that maybe he was wrong, so instead of suggesting the action, was trying to bully me into requesting it. What a cocksucker!
"Ok, please take that filling out and look underneath"...
As soon as i had taken resposibility for the procedure, his mood changed completely!! He started using phrases like "Oookayy, well done, that's the worst of it over.." and even smiling occasionally! Then, after drilling for about 5 minutes, he stoped smiling and his face went blank. Rather than the usual running commentary that dentists give, he was completely silent. Eventually, after scraping around inside my tooth, he finally came clean.
"Ahem. Ahhh, right. Now, there was some decay in there, and I've done my best to get it out. I think I've got it all out. Now it's a much more complicated filling than I thought, so I'm just gonna put a sedative dressing in there and a temporary filling, and then you'll have to make an appointment with a entist as soon as possible to have the filling done."
Whaaaaaat!!!!!!! Why do you think I'm here you fucking A-Hole?? because I don't HAVE a dentist!!!! There ARE no dentists!! And now I have only a month (10 days of which are going to be spent meditating and trying to purge you from my brain) in which to get it sorted before this poxy mix of tipp-ex and cotton wool falls out and leaves me in agony!!
Back at home later that day I tried to call around the NHS Dental Surgerys to see if I could get an appointment to have the filling done.
"Ok sir, I can put you on the witing list if you like?".
"Umm, how long is the waiting list roughly?"
"Roughly? Ohhh, about err 12 months".
"12 months??!!! You're kidding me right??"
"No sir, that's the waiting list I'm afraid".
"But your emergency dentist has just put in a temporary filling that only lasts a month!! So what do I do when it falls out?!"
"Well, if you're in pain you can always make an appointment at our emergency drop-in centre for some emergency treatment..........
I give up.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed that tale from the darkside... see you all in 10 days!
Friday, April 09, 2004
Good evening.
Today was a fairly interesting day by my newly revised and alarmingly low standards. First I attemted to remove some of the stuff cluttering up my room and put it in the attic, but got distracted by the things that were already in the attic and ended up bringing them down instead of putting more up.... Then i went to town to meet the finance lady at the Art College and discuss pay etc. Turns out they want to pay me a bit more than I was expecting so that's a bargain. :)
Then i went into town and met Mike and Chris, two old friends, and their mate Darren. We headed to the pub and I ordered a pint (of Coke) and proceeded to rule the pool table. Then a man came over and asked if he could play. "Sure" I say, and being as i have just won the last game I jump up to play him. At first he seems fairly normal, if a little drmatic with his gestures of approval or condolance over the outcome of each of my shots... Then I start to notice that actually he's not very "normal" at all. In fact he's decidedly odd. Every now and then he'd suddenly emit very loud and innapropriate squealing noises, and then say "I'm good in' I?" (This is hereford speak for "I'm good aren't I?") with a big grin on his face. This wouldn't be so odd if it wasnt for the fact that I had just whupped his arse. "But you lost..." I say. "Yeah, but you was lucky wun you?" he suggests enthusiastically. "Ummm, yeah, I guess so", I say, starting to feel a little awkward as a realise that my three pals are all desperately trying not laugh out loud behind him. It has become clear that he's not just a wierdo, he's actually... ummm, what's the PC word these days?..... mentally challenged?.... Oh I don't know, it used to be called "backward" when I was a kid.... you know what I mean. Anyway, lovely bloke, just a bit of handful once he got excited.
After that first game he just wouldn't give up and kept coming and insisting on another game. In the end it all became bit too much so we headed to the Barrels, another pub on the other side of town. I had to move my car, and when i arrived my friends were already deep in conversation with another nutcase! This one was of the manic variety, and he kept doing word assosiation rapid-fire monolouges that would put Robin Williams to shame. But he seemed friendly enough, and when he offered to buy us all a drink his status as a "good bloke" was confirmed. He's a scruffy bastard. Green bomber jacket, mohawk hairdo. Then I notice his trousers and shoes. Straight black trousers and simple but shiny black leather shoes. "These are from the nick!", he says, pointing at the shoes. "I just got out, done a couple a munfs in Glouscester, they make em there ya know they make all sorts in all the diffren prisons an at..". He is wildly animated and keeps jumping from foot to foot and grinning as he bombards us with seemingly unrelated information at 100 miles and hour. Every time he leaves the room he seems to return with 2 pints of guinness. One he puts down somewhere in the room and the other he drinks. Then he returns with another 2 pints and does the same thing. Soon there are 3 untouched pints of Guinness sitting at different tables around the room! At some point he starts talking about how he needs to go across town to buy some weed and how he's going to be leaving any minute, but never quite does.
Half an hour later I decide it's time for me to head off, but as I start to say my goodbyes he jumps in. "What?! You can't go! We're gonna have a party here in a bit when i get back!!". "Sorry", I say, trying to think of a good excuse. "I've got to get the car back to my mum cos she needs it"..... 'What?! You've got a car?! Fuck! And there's me about to get a taxi! Can I have a lift then? Sorted! your goin that way int ya? Where you goin?"... "I'm going to Madley", i say, trying to remember where he wanted to go and if it's on my way and how I can avoid taking him there. "Perfect!!", he says. "I'm tryin ta get to the Oval, it's on the way innit?!". He's right, it is on my way. Suddenly i remember how 3 days ago I was trying to hitch to town for my job interview after trying to catch the bus with zero money in my pocket, and how all those bastard drivers with empty cars kept zooming straight past me without so much as a wave.... and here I was being a complete hippocrite and trying wriggle out of doing the same myself. "Ok, no worries mate, let's go", I say, getting up and saying my goodbyes. Out in the street we start heading towards the car. "Hang on a minute mate, I've just gotta rush in 'ere for a sec", he says, darting into the chemist (drug store). He comes out moments later and runs to catch up with me. "Sorry mate, just had to get a few needles. Not for me mind, for me mate. I don't do it no more. Used to mind you, made a right mess of me arms I did". He pulls up his sleeve to show me his many syringe marks, and instead reveals a thousand self-inflicted lacerations on his forearm. The wounds look fairly fresh. "Did that to get out of prison!! Not bad eh?!", he tells me proudly. He then goes on to explain to me that he is actually a complete mental case who has been treated and given up on by some of the most hardcore psychiatric hospitals in Britain. "But these days I go mad in a good way like being all happy and stuff see?" he explains to me cheerily. We've arrived at the car. Who is this psycho that I've just offered a lift to?!! Oh well, best not to piss him off now i guess. Anyway, despite being a complete headcase who cuts up his arms, I'm still getting the feeling that he is indeed a very genuine and friendly headcase. We start to drive. A police car goes past and he ducks down in the seat covering his face. He said he just got out of prison. He didn't specifically say he was "let" out..... oh dear. I make it across town, listening to him jump between the state of the peruvian rainfoests, the SAS, how he crashed a Van on E's, and why murderers in the Nick are top blokes because they'll always give you a rizla if you need one. We arrive in Newton Farm council estate, and he asks me to drop him off. "Wait there a sec will ya", he asks. "I just need a lift back to the road cos there's loads of blokes round ere who hate me and if I saw one I would have to 'urt im". He goes inside, and I try to decide whether to make a break for it. Before I have time to think about it he's back out. "No weed in 'ereford" he says, jumping into the front seat with a pungent smelling spliff hanging out his mouth. "You can't smoke that in here, it's my mum's car", I say. "It's alright, it's not a ciggarette, it's herbal!", he says. Oh, right, well that's fine then.... 5 mins later we are apparantly past all of the other psychos that want to kill him who he would be forced to hurt should he spot them and at last he gets out again. "Cheers for the lift Billy!!! See you in the pub later yeah?". Mmmm, maybe.
Today was a fairly interesting day by my newly revised and alarmingly low standards. First I attemted to remove some of the stuff cluttering up my room and put it in the attic, but got distracted by the things that were already in the attic and ended up bringing them down instead of putting more up.... Then i went to town to meet the finance lady at the Art College and discuss pay etc. Turns out they want to pay me a bit more than I was expecting so that's a bargain. :)
Then i went into town and met Mike and Chris, two old friends, and their mate Darren. We headed to the pub and I ordered a pint (of Coke) and proceeded to rule the pool table. Then a man came over and asked if he could play. "Sure" I say, and being as i have just won the last game I jump up to play him. At first he seems fairly normal, if a little drmatic with his gestures of approval or condolance over the outcome of each of my shots... Then I start to notice that actually he's not very "normal" at all. In fact he's decidedly odd. Every now and then he'd suddenly emit very loud and innapropriate squealing noises, and then say "I'm good in' I?" (This is hereford speak for "I'm good aren't I?") with a big grin on his face. This wouldn't be so odd if it wasnt for the fact that I had just whupped his arse. "But you lost..." I say. "Yeah, but you was lucky wun you?" he suggests enthusiastically. "Ummm, yeah, I guess so", I say, starting to feel a little awkward as a realise that my three pals are all desperately trying not laugh out loud behind him. It has become clear that he's not just a wierdo, he's actually... ummm, what's the PC word these days?..... mentally challenged?.... Oh I don't know, it used to be called "backward" when I was a kid.... you know what I mean. Anyway, lovely bloke, just a bit of handful once he got excited.
After that first game he just wouldn't give up and kept coming and insisting on another game. In the end it all became bit too much so we headed to the Barrels, another pub on the other side of town. I had to move my car, and when i arrived my friends were already deep in conversation with another nutcase! This one was of the manic variety, and he kept doing word assosiation rapid-fire monolouges that would put Robin Williams to shame. But he seemed friendly enough, and when he offered to buy us all a drink his status as a "good bloke" was confirmed. He's a scruffy bastard. Green bomber jacket, mohawk hairdo. Then I notice his trousers and shoes. Straight black trousers and simple but shiny black leather shoes. "These are from the nick!", he says, pointing at the shoes. "I just got out, done a couple a munfs in Glouscester, they make em there ya know they make all sorts in all the diffren prisons an at..". He is wildly animated and keeps jumping from foot to foot and grinning as he bombards us with seemingly unrelated information at 100 miles and hour. Every time he leaves the room he seems to return with 2 pints of guinness. One he puts down somewhere in the room and the other he drinks. Then he returns with another 2 pints and does the same thing. Soon there are 3 untouched pints of Guinness sitting at different tables around the room! At some point he starts talking about how he needs to go across town to buy some weed and how he's going to be leaving any minute, but never quite does.
Half an hour later I decide it's time for me to head off, but as I start to say my goodbyes he jumps in. "What?! You can't go! We're gonna have a party here in a bit when i get back!!". "Sorry", I say, trying to think of a good excuse. "I've got to get the car back to my mum cos she needs it"..... 'What?! You've got a car?! Fuck! And there's me about to get a taxi! Can I have a lift then? Sorted! your goin that way int ya? Where you goin?"... "I'm going to Madley", i say, trying to remember where he wanted to go and if it's on my way and how I can avoid taking him there. "Perfect!!", he says. "I'm tryin ta get to the Oval, it's on the way innit?!". He's right, it is on my way. Suddenly i remember how 3 days ago I was trying to hitch to town for my job interview after trying to catch the bus with zero money in my pocket, and how all those bastard drivers with empty cars kept zooming straight past me without so much as a wave.... and here I was being a complete hippocrite and trying wriggle out of doing the same myself. "Ok, no worries mate, let's go", I say, getting up and saying my goodbyes. Out in the street we start heading towards the car. "Hang on a minute mate, I've just gotta rush in 'ere for a sec", he says, darting into the chemist (drug store). He comes out moments later and runs to catch up with me. "Sorry mate, just had to get a few needles. Not for me mind, for me mate. I don't do it no more. Used to mind you, made a right mess of me arms I did". He pulls up his sleeve to show me his many syringe marks, and instead reveals a thousand self-inflicted lacerations on his forearm. The wounds look fairly fresh. "Did that to get out of prison!! Not bad eh?!", he tells me proudly. He then goes on to explain to me that he is actually a complete mental case who has been treated and given up on by some of the most hardcore psychiatric hospitals in Britain. "But these days I go mad in a good way like being all happy and stuff see?" he explains to me cheerily. We've arrived at the car. Who is this psycho that I've just offered a lift to?!! Oh well, best not to piss him off now i guess. Anyway, despite being a complete headcase who cuts up his arms, I'm still getting the feeling that he is indeed a very genuine and friendly headcase. We start to drive. A police car goes past and he ducks down in the seat covering his face. He said he just got out of prison. He didn't specifically say he was "let" out..... oh dear. I make it across town, listening to him jump between the state of the peruvian rainfoests, the SAS, how he crashed a Van on E's, and why murderers in the Nick are top blokes because they'll always give you a rizla if you need one. We arrive in Newton Farm council estate, and he asks me to drop him off. "Wait there a sec will ya", he asks. "I just need a lift back to the road cos there's loads of blokes round ere who hate me and if I saw one I would have to 'urt im". He goes inside, and I try to decide whether to make a break for it. Before I have time to think about it he's back out. "No weed in 'ereford" he says, jumping into the front seat with a pungent smelling spliff hanging out his mouth. "You can't smoke that in here, it's my mum's car", I say. "It's alright, it's not a ciggarette, it's herbal!", he says. Oh, right, well that's fine then.... 5 mins later we are apparantly past all of the other psychos that want to kill him who he would be forced to hurt should he spot them and at last he gets out again. "Cheers for the lift Billy!!! See you in the pub later yeah?". Mmmm, maybe.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
Wassup G's?
I just got offered a possible job! It's pretty perfect as well. It's just 2 days a week working at the Hereford Art College, helping students with their projects using computers and things like that. Bargain! Looks like it's time to dredge all my creative computer genius back up to the surface of my brain... *ahem*. Mmmmm, looks like I'm gonna be in hereford for a while really.... my plan of moving to Bristol or London is seeming too difficult these days.... If I leave hereford i rekon it'll be to go abroad...
I had a cool suprise last night. I went out for a drink with Laura and Heather, 2 of my sisters, and bumped into 3 of my old school mates who I haven't seen for years! Joseph Tame (you may have heard of him from www.tamegoeswild.com), Marc Cove, and Benedict Allen. Was really nice to catch up! Then went back to Marc's as it was his younger brother's birthday, and finally managed to have a good old guitar jam!! Hooray! :)
I just got offered a possible job! It's pretty perfect as well. It's just 2 days a week working at the Hereford Art College, helping students with their projects using computers and things like that. Bargain! Looks like it's time to dredge all my creative computer genius back up to the surface of my brain... *ahem*. Mmmmm, looks like I'm gonna be in hereford for a while really.... my plan of moving to Bristol or London is seeming too difficult these days.... If I leave hereford i rekon it'll be to go abroad...
I had a cool suprise last night. I went out for a drink with Laura and Heather, 2 of my sisters, and bumped into 3 of my old school mates who I haven't seen for years! Joseph Tame (you may have heard of him from www.tamegoeswild.com), Marc Cove, and Benedict Allen. Was really nice to catch up! Then went back to Marc's as it was his younger brother's birthday, and finally managed to have a good old guitar jam!! Hooray! :)
Friday, April 02, 2004
Right. I've just spent bloody ages trying to create a photo album using dreamweaver. It's still a bit shit, but at least you can see some photos, and right now I dont have time to tidy it up... maybe later... go to www.billysalisbury.com/photos/bolivia-peru/index.htm
I've just signed myself up for a 10 day meditation retreat. It's something i've wanted to do for a while, but man it's quite daunting. 10 days of no speaking, communicating, reading writing etc, just sitting and meditating from 4:30am till 9pm (with a few breaks for food etc...). Am I crazy? Well, we'll soon find out! Anyway, I'll write more on the subject later, this monitor's giving me square eyes...
I've just signed myself up for a 10 day meditation retreat. It's something i've wanted to do for a while, but man it's quite daunting. 10 days of no speaking, communicating, reading writing etc, just sitting and meditating from 4:30am till 9pm (with a few breaks for food etc...). Am I crazy? Well, we'll soon find out! Anyway, I'll write more on the subject later, this monitor's giving me square eyes...
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Ola,
well, it's reached that time I'm afraid. The Undercover Hippy is going to do some work. I know I know, it's wrong, but sometimes we have to break the rules a little! Starting monday I will be working for my dad a few days a week in his carpentry/window making business, and earning my keep like all the other normal people out there. I'm still not really sure why I'm still here at all.... I keep telling myself I'm waiting for the summer.... well it better hurry the fuck up!!! Ok, enough moaning, I will attempt to be my normal witty self....
Did you know that lemon juice, when mixed with equal parts of sugar and water, makes a very powerful explosive? Or maybe it was lemonade. It defintely makes something cool anyway. Try it....
I'm feeling fairly explosive myself these days. It's probably just as well I'm gonna start doing a bit of work on monday, otherwise I may well have gone mad. It's all very well having all this time on my hands to make music, but to make music I have to be in the right mood, and quite frankly this place puts me in exactly the wrong mood. I need my hammock in Indonesia.... ahhhh, memories! I've got shit loads of amazing photos to show you by the way. I'm just too lazy to put them up. Maybe later....
Sorry guys, but the verbal diorreah (which I still cant be bothered to learn how to spell) is a bit constipated at the moment. I'll go and eat some fibre and get back to you later....
well, it's reached that time I'm afraid. The Undercover Hippy is going to do some work. I know I know, it's wrong, but sometimes we have to break the rules a little! Starting monday I will be working for my dad a few days a week in his carpentry/window making business, and earning my keep like all the other normal people out there. I'm still not really sure why I'm still here at all.... I keep telling myself I'm waiting for the summer.... well it better hurry the fuck up!!! Ok, enough moaning, I will attempt to be my normal witty self....
Did you know that lemon juice, when mixed with equal parts of sugar and water, makes a very powerful explosive? Or maybe it was lemonade. It defintely makes something cool anyway. Try it....
I'm feeling fairly explosive myself these days. It's probably just as well I'm gonna start doing a bit of work on monday, otherwise I may well have gone mad. It's all very well having all this time on my hands to make music, but to make music I have to be in the right mood, and quite frankly this place puts me in exactly the wrong mood. I need my hammock in Indonesia.... ahhhh, memories! I've got shit loads of amazing photos to show you by the way. I'm just too lazy to put them up. Maybe later....
Sorry guys, but the verbal diorreah (which I still cant be bothered to learn how to spell) is a bit constipated at the moment. I'll go and eat some fibre and get back to you later....
Monday, March 22, 2004
Ok, here's the other one:
A Slight Delay: Crossing Cambodia in a Day.
"You wait 5 minutes", said the driver of our van, motioning for us to get out and stretch our legs. "But we've only just started driving?!", we muttered to one another as we carefully extracted ourselves from our sardine can on wheels. We were twenty minutes into our journey, not even at the edge of town yet, and our two teenage drivers had pulled us into a small Auto-Repair shop at the side of the road. As we stretched our legs, a man in overalls proceeded to remove various parts of the engine and hit them with a hammer and a scewdriver while all of the other local men squatted around and watched, smoking cigarettes and offering the occasional piece of technical wisdom. We asked what was going on and how long this was going to take, but the driver just shrugged us off before going back to watching the "mechanic" attacking the engine parts with a drill. I started to get the feeling this was going to be a rather long journey...
We had set off early that morning from the town of Sihanoukville on the south coast of Cambodia, deciding, after much deliberation, to take the overland bus option instead of the boat. We chose this option mainly because it set off two hours earlier and claimed to arrive at the thai border one hour before the boat. I was travelling in Cambodia with my (now ex) girlfriend, Selene, and two of her friends, Teresa and Ben. After nearly two weeks of exploring Ankor Wat and Pnom Phen, we had finally ended up at the beaches on the south coast, and left it rather late to get back to catch our flight home from Bangkok. We had to get to the thai border before 5pm, when it closed for the day, in order to get the night bus to Bangkok, and catch our flight the following day. We had studied the map, and it really didn't seem that far, so we were feeling fairly confident. Well, for the first 20 mins of the journey anyway...
After an hour of "stretching our legs" we went back to our drivers in the auto-repair shop, who were still busy dismantling our vehicle, and asked them once again when we would be leaving. One of them managed to tear himself away from the hammering and drilling long enough to say, "Maybe one hour more". Another hour?? This was ridiculous! We weren't even outside of the town limits yet and we had already wasted potentially 2 hours "fixing" a vehicle which they obviously already knew was broken when they'd picked us up! But what could we do? Well, nothing, obviously, so we went and had some suspicious looking fried rice from a dusty little food stall and waited...
After three hours, the drivers had decided that the van couldn't be fixed by hitting the various engine parts, and replaced them all back under the bonnet. So, the van was still broken (it kept jumping from 4th to 3rd gear whenever we picked up any speed), but at least we were moving again! For a while. We countinued driving into the middle of nowhere and gradually the "dust road" became a "mud track", which eventually became just "mud with tracks in it". Then we came to our first river crossing. Four fishing boats had been tied together and covered in planks to create a makeshift car-ferry, and after another long wait we boarded along with a few other vehicles. The other vehicles were all pick up trucks and apperared to belong to a wealthy family (in Cambodian terms this means someone who can afford new trainers for their children), who had filled the backs of the trucks with security guards wielding AK 47's. We all felt rather uncomfortable with all those guns around, and were glad when the ferry finally started to move.
Upon reaching the other side, we jumped ashore and waited for our van. All the other cars drove off up the dusty road, but our van remained unmoved. We had a flat battery! A few men started to gather round the van and attempted to "squat start" it. This involves getting a group of men to squat around the van and argue about the problem until it solves itself, and is not dissimilar to the method used in the auto-repair shop, although it involves less hammering and drilling. After thirty minutes of failed squat start attempts, a rather sizable queue of cars had built up trying to get back across the river in the opposite direction. Horns were being liberally applied to the situation in an attempt to get it moving, and eventually our group of squatting men decided to push the van out of the way. After another half an hour, to everyones surprise, the squat starting was actually sucessful and we were moving once more.
We managed two more boat ferry crossings without too much fuss, and apart from the usual 'sliding through mud next to thousand foot drops', the journey seemed to have taken a turn for the better. We were 30 mins from the border town of Ko Kong, and we had 1 hour until the border closed. It was starting to seem like we might make it after all! As we reached the bottom of yet another winding mountain mud-slide, we were amazed to see stretching out before us the biggest, widest, flattest stretch of "road" we had seen in Cambodia so far! We were saved! Finally the gods had smiled on us, and we all sat back to relax as the van enthusiastically took advantage of the level terrain in front of it and picked up speed. Then, without any warning, the van turned off the main road at high speed, careering onto a tiny mud track, and drove, or more to the point "dove", straight into a muddy puddle about 2 feet deep. The wheels spun, water sprayed, but the van wasn't going anywhere. The rear wheels weren't even touching the ground. We were screwed. The driver, who was about 19 and not exactly the brightest of men, continued to rev the engine and spin the wheels in the hope that this approach might suddenly work. I dont know, perhaps he thought if he spun the wheels for long enough he'd actually empty the puddle and we could drive away. Anyhow, we all got out and the squatting technique was employed once more. The local village, obviously very amused by the whole affair, came and joined the squatting. You'd think with this much squatting power it would be easy to move the van, but for some reason it just wasn't working. I tried suggesting we convert all the "squatting power" into "pushing power", but my suggestion was greeted with laughs and cries of "It cant be done!", so I shut my mouth.
Then our drivers came up with the wonderfully bad idea of trying to jack the van up by placing a small, hydraulic jack, underwater, in the soft mud. I tried to explain why this wouldn't work, but they continued anyway, convinced that by holding the jack under the opaque brown water and pumping vigourously, eventually something would happen. In fact, nothing happened. The jack didn't even extend, let alone lift the van! After about half an hour of watching the drivers try the jack in every angle concievable, it became apparant that the reason the villagers weren't helping us push the van was that we weren't paying them, and that the reason we weren't paying them was because the drivers were trying to save money. A little gentle persuasion was used and they finally relented, and after a bit of baragaining between our drivers and the villagers, finally the squatting men stood.
With everyone lifting and pushing, it didn't take long to get the van back on the road once more. This time we managed to move for about 2 minutes before coming to the next ferry crossing.
The ferry was undergoing repairs, and a guy wearing a welder's mask seemed to be trying to cut it in two. We asked him when the ferry would leave. "When I’ve finished this", he replied. "When will that be?", we asked. He answered with a shrug, flicked down his mask, and dissapeared behind a fountain of blue sparks. Accepting that we had missed the border, I bought a beer and a banana from a sweet old lady with a toothy grin, and sat down at the side of the road with all the other waiting people. After all, this was Cambodia, not Camden. Who was I to say things should run faster or smoother? Was I about to make a difference? No. So, having resigned ourselves to missing the border, and subsequently our flight home, we were finally able to relax and just enjoy the situation for what it was: a fantastic chance to experience a pace of life that was still dictated, not by timetables and deadlines, but by the number of delays you encountered.
A Slight Delay: Crossing Cambodia in a Day.
"You wait 5 minutes", said the driver of our van, motioning for us to get out and stretch our legs. "But we've only just started driving?!", we muttered to one another as we carefully extracted ourselves from our sardine can on wheels. We were twenty minutes into our journey, not even at the edge of town yet, and our two teenage drivers had pulled us into a small Auto-Repair shop at the side of the road. As we stretched our legs, a man in overalls proceeded to remove various parts of the engine and hit them with a hammer and a scewdriver while all of the other local men squatted around and watched, smoking cigarettes and offering the occasional piece of technical wisdom. We asked what was going on and how long this was going to take, but the driver just shrugged us off before going back to watching the "mechanic" attacking the engine parts with a drill. I started to get the feeling this was going to be a rather long journey...
We had set off early that morning from the town of Sihanoukville on the south coast of Cambodia, deciding, after much deliberation, to take the overland bus option instead of the boat. We chose this option mainly because it set off two hours earlier and claimed to arrive at the thai border one hour before the boat. I was travelling in Cambodia with my (now ex) girlfriend, Selene, and two of her friends, Teresa and Ben. After nearly two weeks of exploring Ankor Wat and Pnom Phen, we had finally ended up at the beaches on the south coast, and left it rather late to get back to catch our flight home from Bangkok. We had to get to the thai border before 5pm, when it closed for the day, in order to get the night bus to Bangkok, and catch our flight the following day. We had studied the map, and it really didn't seem that far, so we were feeling fairly confident. Well, for the first 20 mins of the journey anyway...
After an hour of "stretching our legs" we went back to our drivers in the auto-repair shop, who were still busy dismantling our vehicle, and asked them once again when we would be leaving. One of them managed to tear himself away from the hammering and drilling long enough to say, "Maybe one hour more". Another hour?? This was ridiculous! We weren't even outside of the town limits yet and we had already wasted potentially 2 hours "fixing" a vehicle which they obviously already knew was broken when they'd picked us up! But what could we do? Well, nothing, obviously, so we went and had some suspicious looking fried rice from a dusty little food stall and waited...
After three hours, the drivers had decided that the van couldn't be fixed by hitting the various engine parts, and replaced them all back under the bonnet. So, the van was still broken (it kept jumping from 4th to 3rd gear whenever we picked up any speed), but at least we were moving again! For a while. We countinued driving into the middle of nowhere and gradually the "dust road" became a "mud track", which eventually became just "mud with tracks in it". Then we came to our first river crossing. Four fishing boats had been tied together and covered in planks to create a makeshift car-ferry, and after another long wait we boarded along with a few other vehicles. The other vehicles were all pick up trucks and apperared to belong to a wealthy family (in Cambodian terms this means someone who can afford new trainers for their children), who had filled the backs of the trucks with security guards wielding AK 47's. We all felt rather uncomfortable with all those guns around, and were glad when the ferry finally started to move.
Upon reaching the other side, we jumped ashore and waited for our van. All the other cars drove off up the dusty road, but our van remained unmoved. We had a flat battery! A few men started to gather round the van and attempted to "squat start" it. This involves getting a group of men to squat around the van and argue about the problem until it solves itself, and is not dissimilar to the method used in the auto-repair shop, although it involves less hammering and drilling. After thirty minutes of failed squat start attempts, a rather sizable queue of cars had built up trying to get back across the river in the opposite direction. Horns were being liberally applied to the situation in an attempt to get it moving, and eventually our group of squatting men decided to push the van out of the way. After another half an hour, to everyones surprise, the squat starting was actually sucessful and we were moving once more.
We managed two more boat ferry crossings without too much fuss, and apart from the usual 'sliding through mud next to thousand foot drops', the journey seemed to have taken a turn for the better. We were 30 mins from the border town of Ko Kong, and we had 1 hour until the border closed. It was starting to seem like we might make it after all! As we reached the bottom of yet another winding mountain mud-slide, we were amazed to see stretching out before us the biggest, widest, flattest stretch of "road" we had seen in Cambodia so far! We were saved! Finally the gods had smiled on us, and we all sat back to relax as the van enthusiastically took advantage of the level terrain in front of it and picked up speed. Then, without any warning, the van turned off the main road at high speed, careering onto a tiny mud track, and drove, or more to the point "dove", straight into a muddy puddle about 2 feet deep. The wheels spun, water sprayed, but the van wasn't going anywhere. The rear wheels weren't even touching the ground. We were screwed. The driver, who was about 19 and not exactly the brightest of men, continued to rev the engine and spin the wheels in the hope that this approach might suddenly work. I dont know, perhaps he thought if he spun the wheels for long enough he'd actually empty the puddle and we could drive away. Anyhow, we all got out and the squatting technique was employed once more. The local village, obviously very amused by the whole affair, came and joined the squatting. You'd think with this much squatting power it would be easy to move the van, but for some reason it just wasn't working. I tried suggesting we convert all the "squatting power" into "pushing power", but my suggestion was greeted with laughs and cries of "It cant be done!", so I shut my mouth.
Then our drivers came up with the wonderfully bad idea of trying to jack the van up by placing a small, hydraulic jack, underwater, in the soft mud. I tried to explain why this wouldn't work, but they continued anyway, convinced that by holding the jack under the opaque brown water and pumping vigourously, eventually something would happen. In fact, nothing happened. The jack didn't even extend, let alone lift the van! After about half an hour of watching the drivers try the jack in every angle concievable, it became apparant that the reason the villagers weren't helping us push the van was that we weren't paying them, and that the reason we weren't paying them was because the drivers were trying to save money. A little gentle persuasion was used and they finally relented, and after a bit of baragaining between our drivers and the villagers, finally the squatting men stood.
With everyone lifting and pushing, it didn't take long to get the van back on the road once more. This time we managed to move for about 2 minutes before coming to the next ferry crossing.
The ferry was undergoing repairs, and a guy wearing a welder's mask seemed to be trying to cut it in two. We asked him when the ferry would leave. "When I’ve finished this", he replied. "When will that be?", we asked. He answered with a shrug, flicked down his mask, and dissapeared behind a fountain of blue sparks. Accepting that we had missed the border, I bought a beer and a banana from a sweet old lady with a toothy grin, and sat down at the side of the road with all the other waiting people. After all, this was Cambodia, not Camden. Who was I to say things should run faster or smoother? Was I about to make a difference? No. So, having resigned ourselves to missing the border, and subsequently our flight home, we were finally able to relax and just enjoy the situation for what it was: a fantastic chance to experience a pace of life that was still dictated, not by timetables and deadlines, but by the number of delays you encountered.
Friday, March 19, 2004
I have just spent bloody ages manually changing every hyphen and quotation mark in this piece so I can post it up. If anyone can explain to me why "slanted" quotation marks as produced my MS word are not acceptable for putting on the web, please tell me how I can avoid them in future!!! Anyway, here's one of my attempts to re-write my travel tales to send off to magazines for publishing... pleae let me know what you think and offer critisism...
Mountain Man Billy:
The skies were truly awe-inspiring. I felt like a Greek god, standing up in the clouds and unleashing rain and lightning on the tiny villages in the valleys below. Then a fresh flurry of rain hit me in the face and I was reminded of my real place in the scheme of things: I was a tiny, soft, defenceless mammal, stranded on the top of an unforgiving mountain with only a sleeping bag, a Swiss Army Knife, a box of matches and an overhanging rock for protection.
We had set off early that morning from the village of Daramkot, in the foothills of the Indian Himalayas. My travelling companions were Shevach, an Israeli guy who stayed in the room next to me, and Sunil, the owner of the guesthouse we were staying in. Shevach had never been trekking before, and was a little nervous about whether he was fit enough to make it to the top. Sunil, on the other hand, was the fittest man I had ever met. He was incredibly skinny, but every ounce of him was constructed from hard, wiry muscle. His dream was to join the army, and he would run miles every day and practice "nun-chucks" in the front yard for hours. He told us that he used to be a mountain guide, so when he offered to take us on a trek for free we were happy to accept his offer. The plan was to head to Triund, at the top of the first pass, camp the night in a cave there, then head to the snowline and the main cave the following day, before returning on the third day. We headed off after a quick breakfast, despite Shevach and I having serious reservations about the state of the weather. It was completely overcast, and in my rather experienced english opinion, looked like rain. Sunil, however, assured us that it definitely, 100 percent, would not rain, and seeing as he was local and had grown up in this area, we took his word for it. After about 4 hours we reached Triund. The view is incredible. Behind you is the valley stretching down towards Dharamkot, McLeod Ganj, and Dharamasala, and in front of you tower the Himalayas, snow capped peaks reaching up into the clouds.
Almost as soon as we reached Triund, the sun came out. Feeling foolish for not having trusted Sunil's mountain wisdom, we lay in the sun eating instant noodles and marvelled at the panorama before us. Then, in the space of about five minutes, the sky turned black and the first drops of rain began to fall. Shevach and I forced our strained legs to propel us full speed up a very steep and rocky slope to the cave in which we were to spend the night. By the time we got up there the rain was coming in strong and we only just got our bags into the shelter of the cave in time. I say 'cave', but really it was just a rocky overhang, at the side of which some shepherds had built a simple dry-stone wall to keep some of the wind out. It was starting to get really quite cold and I was very glad to have my thermal long johns with me! The storm continued to get worse and the wind was becoming gale force, but the view from the cave was so epic that we didn't really mind. You could see the mountains behind, the valley in front, and directly below us, a small group of ancient looking trees, their branches festooned with buddhist prayer flags. Buddhist prayer flags are strings of flags in all different colours, like you might see at a village fete but square instead of triangular. Each flag has a prayer or mantra printed on it, and Buddhists believe that when the wind blows, it carries the positive prayers with it. As I watched from my cave, the flags looked as though they were going to tear free as they fought with the wind to cling onto their string, and I thought to myself that there must be a sizable ocean of good vibes streaming off of those flags at that moment. As we sat in the relative shelter of our cave, I thanked the many gods for making the wind blow across our cave rather than into it. We may have been missing out on a shower of positive prayers, but we were also being spared from a pelting of freezing water! Shevach had decided to bring everything he didn't need and nothing he did need. He had, for example, a CD Player and portable speakers, but no coat. I have to admit though, having "ambient ethnic chill out" music playing in the background as we watched the storm through the wide rectangular entrance of our "cave" did give the whole experience a very movie-like feel!
Then the rain turned to hail. The sky was so dark by now that we had to use a torch in order to see enough to light a fire. The temperature was dropping faster than the price of a sarong on an empty beach. We really were incredibly exposed up there, but thankfully the wind kept it's course, and the 45 degree rain continued to hurl itself past our cave rather than into it. At one point the storm eased up slightly and we were able to venture out of the cave in search of nourishment. Finding food wasn't hard, as the only structure on the mountaintop was a small wooden shack run by a young Indian guy that sold chai (indian tea), chocolate, biscuits etc. When we arrived, he was busy preparing rice and dahl for a small group of bedraggled looking foreigners who were huddled around a small fire in front of the stall. Once I got closer I realised I knew them from Dharamkot, the village where I was staying. After hearing their story I started to see my sleeping arrangement in a totally different light: there were seven of them squeezed into a tiny cave with no bedding at all!
I slept fairly well despite the intense cold, but was awoken just before dawn by Shevach snoring. After a few failed attempts to silence him with my elbow, I gave in and decided to get up. Sunil had been telling us the day before that it definitely wouldn't rain, then that it would stop after 20 minutes, then that it would stop after a few hours, then that it would be clear tomorrow... Well, it was tomorrow now, and although the rain had stopped, the sky was still looking ominous. We lit the fire and thawed ourselves for a while before heading to the small chai shop further down the mountain. The wind was still very strong, and it was miserably cold. We looked over towards the snow-covered mountains that were supposed to be our destination. Sunil assured us that it was no problem, we could continue to the snowline, and that the rain would not return. I was starting to have doubts about Sunil's ability to accurately predict the weather, and after about fifteen minutes of trekking thru the gales and biting cold, Shevach was the first to stop and say he was going back. Sunil asked me if I wanted to continue. I looked up at the snow-covered peak and saw the thick white clouds of snow and hail moving purposefully across it.... "Not into that!" I said, and we decided to head back before the worst weather returned.
As we walked away from probable death and towards hot cups of chai and cold bars of Cadbury's chocolate, Sunil began to make a rather sudden about turn in his attitude to the weather as well. "Billy, you're a very clever man!" he said, "You're a real mountain man! To continue into that would have been very stupid I think, no?". "To be honest", I said, "I don't know anything about mountains really, because where I come from there are no real mountains. But one thing we do have is rain. Lots of it. I am something of a rain expert, and that...", I pointed back at the monstrous grey cloud that had been blocking our path, "looks like rain to me". Sunil looked back at the cloud and then stared at me with something approaching awe. "Mountain man Billy...", he muttered. Feeling a little uncomfortable with all this undeserved praise, I hurried ahead to check on Shevach.
As soon as we started to descend into the valley, the weather made a complete U-turn. The clouds disappeared and the sun blazed down from a clear blue sky. Fleeces and windbreakers were lashed onto packs and sunglasses dug out from beneath dirty bedding. But instead of being uplifted by the sun, we were actually feeling a bit depressed. Maybe we should have continued... Maybe my english rain predicting powers weren't so powerful after all... We trekked most of the remainder of the way in silence, trying to pretend we weren't disappointed to be going home. When we finally reached our guesthouse in Dharamkot and pulled off our dirty boots and socks however, we were so excited to be back in civilisation (a hot bucket of water to shower with and no toilet!) that we forgot all about wanting to sleep in caves and climb mountains and settled back to eat unhealthy amounts of chocolate. Then, only five minutes after arriving back, the sky suddenly went black and unleashed the most torrential rain I had seen since arriving in India! Two days of it! Feeling thoroughly pleased with ourselves, we sat back and watched the paths become rivers from the dryness of our front porch. Perhaps "Mountain Man Billy" wasn't such a bad name after all...
Mountain Man Billy:
The skies were truly awe-inspiring. I felt like a Greek god, standing up in the clouds and unleashing rain and lightning on the tiny villages in the valleys below. Then a fresh flurry of rain hit me in the face and I was reminded of my real place in the scheme of things: I was a tiny, soft, defenceless mammal, stranded on the top of an unforgiving mountain with only a sleeping bag, a Swiss Army Knife, a box of matches and an overhanging rock for protection.
We had set off early that morning from the village of Daramkot, in the foothills of the Indian Himalayas. My travelling companions were Shevach, an Israeli guy who stayed in the room next to me, and Sunil, the owner of the guesthouse we were staying in. Shevach had never been trekking before, and was a little nervous about whether he was fit enough to make it to the top. Sunil, on the other hand, was the fittest man I had ever met. He was incredibly skinny, but every ounce of him was constructed from hard, wiry muscle. His dream was to join the army, and he would run miles every day and practice "nun-chucks" in the front yard for hours. He told us that he used to be a mountain guide, so when he offered to take us on a trek for free we were happy to accept his offer. The plan was to head to Triund, at the top of the first pass, camp the night in a cave there, then head to the snowline and the main cave the following day, before returning on the third day. We headed off after a quick breakfast, despite Shevach and I having serious reservations about the state of the weather. It was completely overcast, and in my rather experienced english opinion, looked like rain. Sunil, however, assured us that it definitely, 100 percent, would not rain, and seeing as he was local and had grown up in this area, we took his word for it. After about 4 hours we reached Triund. The view is incredible. Behind you is the valley stretching down towards Dharamkot, McLeod Ganj, and Dharamasala, and in front of you tower the Himalayas, snow capped peaks reaching up into the clouds.
Almost as soon as we reached Triund, the sun came out. Feeling foolish for not having trusted Sunil's mountain wisdom, we lay in the sun eating instant noodles and marvelled at the panorama before us. Then, in the space of about five minutes, the sky turned black and the first drops of rain began to fall. Shevach and I forced our strained legs to propel us full speed up a very steep and rocky slope to the cave in which we were to spend the night. By the time we got up there the rain was coming in strong and we only just got our bags into the shelter of the cave in time. I say 'cave', but really it was just a rocky overhang, at the side of which some shepherds had built a simple dry-stone wall to keep some of the wind out. It was starting to get really quite cold and I was very glad to have my thermal long johns with me! The storm continued to get worse and the wind was becoming gale force, but the view from the cave was so epic that we didn't really mind. You could see the mountains behind, the valley in front, and directly below us, a small group of ancient looking trees, their branches festooned with buddhist prayer flags. Buddhist prayer flags are strings of flags in all different colours, like you might see at a village fete but square instead of triangular. Each flag has a prayer or mantra printed on it, and Buddhists believe that when the wind blows, it carries the positive prayers with it. As I watched from my cave, the flags looked as though they were going to tear free as they fought with the wind to cling onto their string, and I thought to myself that there must be a sizable ocean of good vibes streaming off of those flags at that moment. As we sat in the relative shelter of our cave, I thanked the many gods for making the wind blow across our cave rather than into it. We may have been missing out on a shower of positive prayers, but we were also being spared from a pelting of freezing water! Shevach had decided to bring everything he didn't need and nothing he did need. He had, for example, a CD Player and portable speakers, but no coat. I have to admit though, having "ambient ethnic chill out" music playing in the background as we watched the storm through the wide rectangular entrance of our "cave" did give the whole experience a very movie-like feel!
Then the rain turned to hail. The sky was so dark by now that we had to use a torch in order to see enough to light a fire. The temperature was dropping faster than the price of a sarong on an empty beach. We really were incredibly exposed up there, but thankfully the wind kept it's course, and the 45 degree rain continued to hurl itself past our cave rather than into it. At one point the storm eased up slightly and we were able to venture out of the cave in search of nourishment. Finding food wasn't hard, as the only structure on the mountaintop was a small wooden shack run by a young Indian guy that sold chai (indian tea), chocolate, biscuits etc. When we arrived, he was busy preparing rice and dahl for a small group of bedraggled looking foreigners who were huddled around a small fire in front of the stall. Once I got closer I realised I knew them from Dharamkot, the village where I was staying. After hearing their story I started to see my sleeping arrangement in a totally different light: there were seven of them squeezed into a tiny cave with no bedding at all!
I slept fairly well despite the intense cold, but was awoken just before dawn by Shevach snoring. After a few failed attempts to silence him with my elbow, I gave in and decided to get up. Sunil had been telling us the day before that it definitely wouldn't rain, then that it would stop after 20 minutes, then that it would stop after a few hours, then that it would be clear tomorrow... Well, it was tomorrow now, and although the rain had stopped, the sky was still looking ominous. We lit the fire and thawed ourselves for a while before heading to the small chai shop further down the mountain. The wind was still very strong, and it was miserably cold. We looked over towards the snow-covered mountains that were supposed to be our destination. Sunil assured us that it was no problem, we could continue to the snowline, and that the rain would not return. I was starting to have doubts about Sunil's ability to accurately predict the weather, and after about fifteen minutes of trekking thru the gales and biting cold, Shevach was the first to stop and say he was going back. Sunil asked me if I wanted to continue. I looked up at the snow-covered peak and saw the thick white clouds of snow and hail moving purposefully across it.... "Not into that!" I said, and we decided to head back before the worst weather returned.
As we walked away from probable death and towards hot cups of chai and cold bars of Cadbury's chocolate, Sunil began to make a rather sudden about turn in his attitude to the weather as well. "Billy, you're a very clever man!" he said, "You're a real mountain man! To continue into that would have been very stupid I think, no?". "To be honest", I said, "I don't know anything about mountains really, because where I come from there are no real mountains. But one thing we do have is rain. Lots of it. I am something of a rain expert, and that...", I pointed back at the monstrous grey cloud that had been blocking our path, "looks like rain to me". Sunil looked back at the cloud and then stared at me with something approaching awe. "Mountain man Billy...", he muttered. Feeling a little uncomfortable with all this undeserved praise, I hurried ahead to check on Shevach.
As soon as we started to descend into the valley, the weather made a complete U-turn. The clouds disappeared and the sun blazed down from a clear blue sky. Fleeces and windbreakers were lashed onto packs and sunglasses dug out from beneath dirty bedding. But instead of being uplifted by the sun, we were actually feeling a bit depressed. Maybe we should have continued... Maybe my english rain predicting powers weren't so powerful after all... We trekked most of the remainder of the way in silence, trying to pretend we weren't disappointed to be going home. When we finally reached our guesthouse in Dharamkot and pulled off our dirty boots and socks however, we were so excited to be back in civilisation (a hot bucket of water to shower with and no toilet!) that we forgot all about wanting to sleep in caves and climb mountains and settled back to eat unhealthy amounts of chocolate. Then, only five minutes after arriving back, the sky suddenly went black and unleashed the most torrential rain I had seen since arriving in India! Two days of it! Feeling thoroughly pleased with ourselves, we sat back and watched the paths become rivers from the dryness of our front porch. Perhaps "Mountain Man Billy" wasn't such a bad name after all...
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Wow, this is so bizarre! I've just been checking out the stats for my site, and there's something on there called "search strings", which I can only guess means people who've done a search for something and been given my site in their results. (If you know exactly what it means please tell me). Anyway, check out the results:
2 5.06% wanking old men
3 3.80% money
2 2.53% 12 principles of animation
2 2.53% bugs life skeletal animation
2 2.53% camelpac
2 2.53% florianopolis travel hostel journal photos
2 2.53% objects that move
2 2.53% phote fuck ladies
2 2.53% skin modifier tutorial
2 2.53% wanking record
1 1.27% a photo of a gorrilas hand
1 1.27% action poses tutorials
1 1.27% animation principle staging demo
1 1.27% autoque examples
1 1.27% bolivian costume
1 1.27% bolivian mochila
1 1.27% british wanking customs
1 1.27% chalten travel
1 1.27% classic tabloid newspaper covers london bus found on moon
1 1.27% disney 2d animation walk cycle
1 1.27% double take
1 1.27% drawing action pose tutorials
1 1.27% ebb and flow hostel
1 1.27% everything is grey
1 1.27% fast-in fast-out computer animation
1 1.27% ffd skin
1 1.27% florianopolis topless
1 1.27% funny thengs
1 1.27% guesthouse terminolgy
1 1.27% hemaphrodite photos
1 1.27% i am rich potosi the mountain that ate men
1 1.27% kampung lifestyle singapore
1 1.27% littlest hobo in
1 1.27% massage girl in calcutta
1 1.27% mendoza aregentina
1 1.27% moving hold animation
1 1.27% ms mpg4
1 1.27% nepals famous rivers
1 1.27% north face goretex jacket korea
1 1.27% overlapping action animation tutorial
1 1.27% perito moreno; patagonia; march 2004; tourists
1 1.27% peruvian torch trip
1 1.27% photos of llama butts
1 1.27% pictures of mission trips in foriegn countries
1 1.27% ppl looking for trip to peru
1 1.27% principles of animation frame
1 1.27% read stories about people getting naked then getting in a pool
1 1.27% salomon walking boots
1 1.27% sarah and louise travel australia
1 1.27% saunas in telaviv
1 1.27% scratch and stretch animation
1 1.27% skin modifier
1 1.27% skin modifier max
1 1.27% squash tutorial
1 1.27% story staring with as soon as he had the knock on the door he k
1 1.27% toy story and the 12 basic principles of animation
1 1.27% toy story scenario1
1 1.27% tutorials skin modifier
1 1.27% vomiting because off upset tummys
1 1.27% walk
1 1.27% walk cycle quicktime
1 1.27% what kind of acceleration happens when and object is moving and
1 1.27% where to buy gringo billy's
1 1.27% where to find magic muchrooms
1 1.27% which european explorer dicovered new zealand
LOL!! I love it! "a photo of a gorillas hand"!!! How the hell did that get in there?? and "british wanking customs"!! I mean who was searching for that??! Oh well, I hope they found my site useful!.... How funny is it that the best match was "wanking old men"!! LOL!
I actually had to delete one of the entries because it involved dodgy paedophilia references! I mean WTF?! Why has someone's search for child porn routed them to my site!!!!???? Please, any techies out there explain for me!! You can see all my site stats at www.billysalisbury.com/stats
2 5.06% wanking old men
3 3.80% money
2 2.53% 12 principles of animation
2 2.53% bugs life skeletal animation
2 2.53% camelpac
2 2.53% florianopolis travel hostel journal photos
2 2.53% objects that move
2 2.53% phote fuck ladies
2 2.53% skin modifier tutorial
2 2.53% wanking record
1 1.27% a photo of a gorrilas hand
1 1.27% action poses tutorials
1 1.27% animation principle staging demo
1 1.27% autoque examples
1 1.27% bolivian costume
1 1.27% bolivian mochila
1 1.27% british wanking customs
1 1.27% chalten travel
1 1.27% classic tabloid newspaper covers london bus found on moon
1 1.27% disney 2d animation walk cycle
1 1.27% double take
1 1.27% drawing action pose tutorials
1 1.27% ebb and flow hostel
1 1.27% everything is grey
1 1.27% fast-in fast-out computer animation
1 1.27% ffd skin
1 1.27% florianopolis topless
1 1.27% funny thengs
1 1.27% guesthouse terminolgy
1 1.27% hemaphrodite photos
1 1.27% i am rich potosi the mountain that ate men
1 1.27% kampung lifestyle singapore
1 1.27% littlest hobo in
1 1.27% massage girl in calcutta
1 1.27% mendoza aregentina
1 1.27% moving hold animation
1 1.27% ms mpg4
1 1.27% nepals famous rivers
1 1.27% north face goretex jacket korea
1 1.27% overlapping action animation tutorial
1 1.27% perito moreno; patagonia; march 2004; tourists
1 1.27% peruvian torch trip
1 1.27% photos of llama butts
1 1.27% pictures of mission trips in foriegn countries
1 1.27% ppl looking for trip to peru
1 1.27% principles of animation frame
1 1.27% read stories about people getting naked then getting in a pool
1 1.27% salomon walking boots
1 1.27% sarah and louise travel australia
1 1.27% saunas in telaviv
1 1.27% scratch and stretch animation
1 1.27% skin modifier
1 1.27% skin modifier max
1 1.27% squash tutorial
1 1.27% story staring with as soon as he had the knock on the door he k
1 1.27% toy story and the 12 basic principles of animation
1 1.27% toy story scenario1
1 1.27% tutorials skin modifier
1 1.27% vomiting because off upset tummys
1 1.27% walk
1 1.27% walk cycle quicktime
1 1.27% what kind of acceleration happens when and object is moving and
1 1.27% where to buy gringo billy's
1 1.27% where to find magic muchrooms
1 1.27% which european explorer dicovered new zealand
LOL!! I love it! "a photo of a gorillas hand"!!! How the hell did that get in there?? and "british wanking customs"!! I mean who was searching for that??! Oh well, I hope they found my site useful!.... How funny is it that the best match was "wanking old men"!! LOL!
I actually had to delete one of the entries because it involved dodgy paedophilia references! I mean WTF?! Why has someone's search for child porn routed them to my site!!!!???? Please, any techies out there explain for me!! You can see all my site stats at www.billysalisbury.com/stats
Hi all,
I've recently started trying to learn some meditation/relaxation techniques to help me with a problem I have with chronic muscle tension (and maybe help me discover the meaning of life in the process). The problem is, I'm crap at it. The general idea behind most forms of meditation is to focus the mind, quieting all those random thoughts that keep flying aimlessly around inside your bonce. By doing this, you can find inner peace apparantly. Sounds great huh? But damn it's difficult! Some people chant a mantra to themselves to focus their mind, for example Ommmmm. I find this too confusing. How long is an Om supposed to be? So I've opted for "1,2" instead. Simple but effective. Well maybe not effective, but definitely simple. So, here's how a typical attempt to meditate goes:
I am lying on the floor (sitting cross legged is too damn uncomfortable, and as for the lotus position... HA!) with my eyes closed, taking long deep belly breaths and focusing on my mantra... 1....2....1....2.... then it all starts to go wrong:
"1...2...1....2....ok, just gotta stop thinking... damn! that was a thought! ok...1...2...argh! my nose itches! oh well, I've only just started, maybe I should just scratch it and start afresh... *scratches*...ahh, that's better....actually, no it's not! Now my whole face itches! Ok, come on Billy, just ignore it! Just focus your mind, it's just a sensation...ok...1....2....1.....2....Why can't that bird shut up??!! bloody bastard bird!! No, stop! This is negative thinking... I've got to stop thinking and just 'be'. Ok...just 'be'......1....2.... I wonder how long I've been doing this now?.... maybe I've already done my half hour..... No! Got to carry on until I manage to stop thinking!....1...2.... hang on.... how will I know I've stopped thinking if i'm not thinking? mmmmm...ok, ok, just go with it billy!....ok....1....2....1....2.....1.....2....1. .2....1....2.....1.....2......1......2......Ok...... if team blue manage to secure the spagetti post then it'll be all clear for us to capture the runner beans. If I could just get ....a ....little...closer.............Hang on, this is a bit bizzare..... which means I must be falling asleep.... shit! I've stopped counting!!!! Ok... come on billy! 1....2...1....2....1......2... Mmmmm, maybe I should count to 4 instead of 2 like it says in the book.... maybe that's why it's not working? Or maybe it's cause I'm still thinking about it. Right, that's it, I give up! I'll do it tomorrow!"
You get the idea. It's not easy being an enlightened being! How these monks spend their whole lives in meditation I shall never know! Ok, time to try again.....
I've recently started trying to learn some meditation/relaxation techniques to help me with a problem I have with chronic muscle tension (and maybe help me discover the meaning of life in the process). The problem is, I'm crap at it. The general idea behind most forms of meditation is to focus the mind, quieting all those random thoughts that keep flying aimlessly around inside your bonce. By doing this, you can find inner peace apparantly. Sounds great huh? But damn it's difficult! Some people chant a mantra to themselves to focus their mind, for example Ommmmm. I find this too confusing. How long is an Om supposed to be? So I've opted for "1,2" instead. Simple but effective. Well maybe not effective, but definitely simple. So, here's how a typical attempt to meditate goes:
I am lying on the floor (sitting cross legged is too damn uncomfortable, and as for the lotus position... HA!) with my eyes closed, taking long deep belly breaths and focusing on my mantra... 1....2....1....2.... then it all starts to go wrong:
"1...2...1....2....ok, just gotta stop thinking... damn! that was a thought! ok...1...2...argh! my nose itches! oh well, I've only just started, maybe I should just scratch it and start afresh... *scratches*...ahh, that's better....actually, no it's not! Now my whole face itches! Ok, come on Billy, just ignore it! Just focus your mind, it's just a sensation...ok...1....2....1.....2....Why can't that bird shut up??!! bloody bastard bird!! No, stop! This is negative thinking... I've got to stop thinking and just 'be'. Ok...just 'be'......1....2.... I wonder how long I've been doing this now?.... maybe I've already done my half hour..... No! Got to carry on until I manage to stop thinking!....1...2.... hang on.... how will I know I've stopped thinking if i'm not thinking? mmmmm...ok, ok, just go with it billy!....ok....1....2....1....2.....1.....2....1. .2....1....2.....1.....2......1......2......Ok...... if team blue manage to secure the spagetti post then it'll be all clear for us to capture the runner beans. If I could just get ....a ....little...closer.............Hang on, this is a bit bizzare..... which means I must be falling asleep.... shit! I've stopped counting!!!! Ok... come on billy! 1....2...1....2....1......2... Mmmmm, maybe I should count to 4 instead of 2 like it says in the book.... maybe that's why it's not working? Or maybe it's cause I'm still thinking about it. Right, that's it, I give up! I'll do it tomorrow!"
You get the idea. It's not easy being an enlightened being! How these monks spend their whole lives in meditation I shall never know! Ok, time to try again.....
Friday, March 12, 2004
"Yo. Hey what's happenin' dude? I'm a guy with a rep for bein crude. Sodomising people, wherever I go, it's not intentional, just pimpin the ho. Fixin wet sores to get the best whores, dripping bacteria, all over the floor, I'm the kid who made it cool to pee and fart, last name simpson, first name bart."
For those who never heard the original "Do the Bart Man", I apologise for that strange and offensive little ditty. It didn't come out of my mind. Unless you liked it, in which case it's entirely my own work.
Anyway, moving swiftly on. Today is a very special day, for today is the festival of "fri", when people of all races colours and creeds, join together for the traditional english celebration of drug abuse, casual sex, mindless violence and kebabs. Yes people, it is "Fri" day. And today is rather a special "fri" day, because today is my sister's birthday, and we are going into the "Big City" to celebrate. I have donned my least countrified clothes to try and blend in with the sophisticated town folk. Gone is my berghaus fleece and walking boots. Gone are my big wooly socks. Gone are my Panda slippers (only cos they wouldn't fit in the bag mind you). On comes the calvin klein jumper (8 quid in the sale in singaore). On comes the 3 sizes to big "av a crumpet and bitch" combat trousers (6 quid in the rejects shop in Kuala Lumpur). Yes ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the Undercover Hippy to do as his namesake suggests and go undercover. Rooting out conformism and narrow mindedness wherever his annoyingly common long haired indie cut takes him.
It's a funny old world isn't it? Actualy, no it's not. I sat and looked out of the window for six hours and the funniest thing to happen was that the bus had to reverse out twice because he misjudged the width of the road. As I'm sure you can imagine, I didn't laugh. Well not for long anyway. It snowed last night. Quite a lot actually. Enough that my mum is panicking about my brother getting to his flight tommorow morning to fly away to sunny India. Lucky bastard. This is the first time ever that I've been the one staying home while he goes off to do something fun. It's just SO UNFAIIIIR! :)
You will be pleased to know that my songwriting is moving slowly along. You can have a little listen to one of my "works in progress" if you like. Right click on the following link and choose "save taget as" from the drop down menu.
http://billysalisbury.com/other_files/a_solution.mp3
this is quite an old version, but i'm on a dialup here so it's takes an hour just to upload one song. Anyway, it'll give you a rough idea of what i'm up to....
right, nearly time to go!
byeeee!
For those who never heard the original "Do the Bart Man", I apologise for that strange and offensive little ditty. It didn't come out of my mind. Unless you liked it, in which case it's entirely my own work.
Anyway, moving swiftly on. Today is a very special day, for today is the festival of "fri", when people of all races colours and creeds, join together for the traditional english celebration of drug abuse, casual sex, mindless violence and kebabs. Yes people, it is "Fri" day. And today is rather a special "fri" day, because today is my sister's birthday, and we are going into the "Big City" to celebrate. I have donned my least countrified clothes to try and blend in with the sophisticated town folk. Gone is my berghaus fleece and walking boots. Gone are my big wooly socks. Gone are my Panda slippers (only cos they wouldn't fit in the bag mind you). On comes the calvin klein jumper (8 quid in the sale in singaore). On comes the 3 sizes to big "av a crumpet and bitch" combat trousers (6 quid in the rejects shop in Kuala Lumpur). Yes ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the Undercover Hippy to do as his namesake suggests and go undercover. Rooting out conformism and narrow mindedness wherever his annoyingly common long haired indie cut takes him.
It's a funny old world isn't it? Actualy, no it's not. I sat and looked out of the window for six hours and the funniest thing to happen was that the bus had to reverse out twice because he misjudged the width of the road. As I'm sure you can imagine, I didn't laugh. Well not for long anyway. It snowed last night. Quite a lot actually. Enough that my mum is panicking about my brother getting to his flight tommorow morning to fly away to sunny India. Lucky bastard. This is the first time ever that I've been the one staying home while he goes off to do something fun. It's just SO UNFAIIIIR! :)
You will be pleased to know that my songwriting is moving slowly along. You can have a little listen to one of my "works in progress" if you like. Right click on the following link and choose "save taget as" from the drop down menu.
http://billysalisbury.com/other_files/a_solution.mp3
this is quite an old version, but i'm on a dialup here so it's takes an hour just to upload one song. Anyway, it'll give you a rough idea of what i'm up to....
right, nearly time to go!
byeeee!
Thursday, March 04, 2004
Evenin' all.
well, it's been a riproaringly eventful day in the bustling metropolis of hereford. I got up, read a chapter of "Harry potter: the order of the phoenix" (Harry just got detention for mentioning that Lord Voldemort has returned), tried unsucessfully to record a couple of songs, went to the cinema with my sister Laura and saw "Along came Polly" (predictable but amusing cringe movie with ben stiller and jen aniston), then went to see a singer at the Barrels pub (didn't actually "see" him mind you). I'm exhausted!
So what can I say today. It's hard to think of interesting things to witter on about these days. I tend to want to just moan a bit, which is all very well if your writing a blog for yourself, and probably quite theraputic really, but as i have an audience out there i feel i have something of a responsibility to write something entertaining.... so...
did you know that men who ejaculate 5 times or more a week are a third less likely to develop prostate cancer than men who don't? It's true. Some medical researchers in australia did a survey of a few thousand men over a certain age, half with prostate cancer and half without, and discovered that the men who had been wanking or having sex more than 5 times a week were over 30% less likely to develop the disease. They think that this is because semen, when it is left to sit around in the reproductive tubes, can turn carconagenic due to it's highly concentrated state. With this in mind, i think it's about time that wanking shed it's status as a taboo subject, and was embraced by society as a sign of a healthy lifestyle. Five times a week, well, that's pretty much every day, so I think it's important that we can feel unembaressed if for example, we are staying at a friend's parents' house, to get up from the dinner table and say "Excuse me, can I use your bathroom, I'm just gonna have a quick wank..". Or maybe to make it more socially acceptable, we could create some healthy sounding euphemisms, like "excuse me for a few minutes, I'm just gonna go and clean out the old tubes", or "back in 5, just gonna do a quick pipe cleaner".... Or maybe we could jst stick with the many that we have already, like "spank the monkey", or "choke the chicken".
I think there may even be a case for wanking to be made available on the NHS to those who are unable to perform the life saving procedure themselves; like people with no arms for example.....
Of course there is the other option, of having sex five times a week. The problem with that is that you need either a girlfriend, or a huge amount of sexual magnetism and enthusiasm. I however, have niether. Now where's that bog roll?........
well, it's been a riproaringly eventful day in the bustling metropolis of hereford. I got up, read a chapter of "Harry potter: the order of the phoenix" (Harry just got detention for mentioning that Lord Voldemort has returned), tried unsucessfully to record a couple of songs, went to the cinema with my sister Laura and saw "Along came Polly" (predictable but amusing cringe movie with ben stiller and jen aniston), then went to see a singer at the Barrels pub (didn't actually "see" him mind you). I'm exhausted!
So what can I say today. It's hard to think of interesting things to witter on about these days. I tend to want to just moan a bit, which is all very well if your writing a blog for yourself, and probably quite theraputic really, but as i have an audience out there i feel i have something of a responsibility to write something entertaining.... so...
did you know that men who ejaculate 5 times or more a week are a third less likely to develop prostate cancer than men who don't? It's true. Some medical researchers in australia did a survey of a few thousand men over a certain age, half with prostate cancer and half without, and discovered that the men who had been wanking or having sex more than 5 times a week were over 30% less likely to develop the disease. They think that this is because semen, when it is left to sit around in the reproductive tubes, can turn carconagenic due to it's highly concentrated state. With this in mind, i think it's about time that wanking shed it's status as a taboo subject, and was embraced by society as a sign of a healthy lifestyle. Five times a week, well, that's pretty much every day, so I think it's important that we can feel unembaressed if for example, we are staying at a friend's parents' house, to get up from the dinner table and say "Excuse me, can I use your bathroom, I'm just gonna have a quick wank..". Or maybe to make it more socially acceptable, we could create some healthy sounding euphemisms, like "excuse me for a few minutes, I'm just gonna go and clean out the old tubes", or "back in 5, just gonna do a quick pipe cleaner".... Or maybe we could jst stick with the many that we have already, like "spank the monkey", or "choke the chicken".
I think there may even be a case for wanking to be made available on the NHS to those who are unable to perform the life saving procedure themselves; like people with no arms for example.....
Of course there is the other option, of having sex five times a week. The problem with that is that you need either a girlfriend, or a huge amount of sexual magnetism and enthusiasm. I however, have niether. Now where's that bog roll?........
Saturday, February 28, 2004
Hi Kids,
well, I'm sitting here in my brother's room (soon to be mine! Hahaaa!) trying to write and record some songs. It's starting to get a bit tricky. After the initial elation of managing to finally get some of my songs down on disc, I am now at that tricky stage of actually having to FINISH some of my songs so that I can FINISH recording them. I have tons of half songs! I have actually managed a few... actually, make that two.... finished songs. I would let you have a listen, but I want to get a few on disc and post them to myself for copyright purposes before i go putting them up on the web. Because these songs are HOT baby!!! Oh yeah! I've already made the mistake of giving out the chords and lyrics of my "blood is thicker than oil" song to countless people during my trip.... I'm still half expecting to see that pop up on Top of the Pops any day now.... Actualy, i wouldn't really mind too much, cos i'm sure i could sue them for loads.... :) Anyway, I decided to take a break from writing songs to write a bit of blog. So here goes:
.........ummmmm.
shit. My writer's block is starting to invade all aspects of my life!!! I tried to sign a credit card slip in a shop the other day but couldn't think what to write!!! the shop assistant had to suggest I write my signiture before I actually started writing!! England is slowly but surely draining my creative juices through a small and cleverly concealed valve in the sole of my right foot. Mmmmm. Perhaps if I put lead soles on my trainers..... nah, too heavy. Got to be practical here.... Maybe I need to go and find some inspiration. I've been reading the papers in the hope that that might inspire me, but all it's done so far is depress me. I'm starting to think tony blair might actually be the devil. If you've ever seen that movie with jack nicholson, "The Witches of Eastwick", you'll know what i mean. Mmmm, but if Tony's the devil, what would that make George Dubbya?? Surely not God? Oh my dear George! Say it isn't so!! Apparantly some people really do think he is appointed by the lord. I read it in the paper once. blah blah blah. You can tell I haven't done much lately can't you?
The rest of the world is getting further away with every day that passes. I'm starting to understand why most "normal" people seem to view the idea of living in other countries as an idle dream only possible for the rich and famous. That's how it feels here. You start to think "well, yes it's cold, yes it's boring, yes I'd rather be somewhere else, but that's just not possible is it? Just got to keep a stiff upper lip and try to remain as numb as possible. Don't worry, just keep watching tv and it'll all be over before you know it..." Well, excuuuuse me, but that sucks. I'm going to learn kung fu and then be like that guy from the series "kung fu" I used to watch as a kid. Travelling from town to town, helping the poor and defenceless with my combination of martial arts and ancient chinese wisdom. Right! I'm going to start right away!!! Tomorrow I shall head off into the roughest areas of madley village.... ummm.... maybe I'll hang around by the swings in the park.... and wait for some bullys to pick on a defenseless child before I run in and kung fu them all into a bloody pulp. Then i shall teach them all how to meditate before slinging my belongings over my shoulder and heading onto the next spot where my help is needed... maybe outside the village shop......
ok. it is time.
well, I'm sitting here in my brother's room (soon to be mine! Hahaaa!) trying to write and record some songs. It's starting to get a bit tricky. After the initial elation of managing to finally get some of my songs down on disc, I am now at that tricky stage of actually having to FINISH some of my songs so that I can FINISH recording them. I have tons of half songs! I have actually managed a few... actually, make that two.... finished songs. I would let you have a listen, but I want to get a few on disc and post them to myself for copyright purposes before i go putting them up on the web. Because these songs are HOT baby!!! Oh yeah! I've already made the mistake of giving out the chords and lyrics of my "blood is thicker than oil" song to countless people during my trip.... I'm still half expecting to see that pop up on Top of the Pops any day now.... Actualy, i wouldn't really mind too much, cos i'm sure i could sue them for loads.... :) Anyway, I decided to take a break from writing songs to write a bit of blog. So here goes:
.........ummmmm.
shit. My writer's block is starting to invade all aspects of my life!!! I tried to sign a credit card slip in a shop the other day but couldn't think what to write!!! the shop assistant had to suggest I write my signiture before I actually started writing!! England is slowly but surely draining my creative juices through a small and cleverly concealed valve in the sole of my right foot. Mmmmm. Perhaps if I put lead soles on my trainers..... nah, too heavy. Got to be practical here.... Maybe I need to go and find some inspiration. I've been reading the papers in the hope that that might inspire me, but all it's done so far is depress me. I'm starting to think tony blair might actually be the devil. If you've ever seen that movie with jack nicholson, "The Witches of Eastwick", you'll know what i mean. Mmmm, but if Tony's the devil, what would that make George Dubbya?? Surely not God? Oh my dear George! Say it isn't so!! Apparantly some people really do think he is appointed by the lord. I read it in the paper once. blah blah blah. You can tell I haven't done much lately can't you?
The rest of the world is getting further away with every day that passes. I'm starting to understand why most "normal" people seem to view the idea of living in other countries as an idle dream only possible for the rich and famous. That's how it feels here. You start to think "well, yes it's cold, yes it's boring, yes I'd rather be somewhere else, but that's just not possible is it? Just got to keep a stiff upper lip and try to remain as numb as possible. Don't worry, just keep watching tv and it'll all be over before you know it..." Well, excuuuuse me, but that sucks. I'm going to learn kung fu and then be like that guy from the series "kung fu" I used to watch as a kid. Travelling from town to town, helping the poor and defenceless with my combination of martial arts and ancient chinese wisdom. Right! I'm going to start right away!!! Tomorrow I shall head off into the roughest areas of madley village.... ummm.... maybe I'll hang around by the swings in the park.... and wait for some bullys to pick on a defenseless child before I run in and kung fu them all into a bloody pulp. Then i shall teach them all how to meditate before slinging my belongings over my shoulder and heading onto the next spot where my help is needed... maybe outside the village shop......
ok. it is time.
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