Transient without being a transient



I'm supposed to be moving to London tomorrow and there's a possibility that I might go and work in Brussels in a month or so too. Either way, things are going to change for me which is good, but kind of unsettling too. For the past year and a half my life has been on hold after losing my job in NYC, struggling to find a new one to stay there and to preserve the life I worked hard to build. This whole summer at home in England has been kind of strange and testing, I really feel that all this time has been stripped away from me, and that's not something you get back. But I guess I'm feeling pensive right now as today I've been once again packing my few possessions up and getting ready to move on again. I think my confidence is still a little shaky after NY. I keep thinking history's going to repeat itself.

If I end up going to Brussels I'd only stay there for a year or so and return to London . But I think the thought of not being grounded in one place with friends and roots is starting to chip away at me. The adventurous side of me wants to go to Brussels to test my resolve again, maybe to exorcise the ghosts of humiliation and failure from leaving NY and to prove to myself that I can do it. And the other side is questioning why bother and to just keep looking for a job in London (which is itself the harder of the two options) and get settled there for good; the old 'don't take any risks and you won't get hurt' crap. I know I'm whining blah blah blah. Every time I try to progress it fucks up and I've just had enough you know? I kinda feel like I have no purpose and am going nowhere, so what difference does it make what city I live in? Ugh fuck it, nevermind.

Marge the Argonaut



It wasn't quite a Tarantula, but it wasn't far off. I'm sitting there in the rocking chair watching some late night Discovery Channel as usual, it was about 11.30pm and I was just about to go to bed. I saw this flicker of movement out the corner of my eye; Jesus H it was the size of a small European car! And it moved faster than priest at summer camp. Now of course I had to prove my alpha male status to the Cat which had run off in fear, I swear she said 'what the fuck..!?' Anyway, I tried to step on the damned thing, it was like trying to crush a giant Galapagos tortoise. After falling off I ran to the dinning room and proceeded to beat the bastard over the head with a chair until it finally gave in and went to the big cobweb in the sky. It was a supreme moment of triumph for my fragile male ego.

So there I am again the next evening, same time etc. And another one of these beasts appears from exactly the same place as the one before. Maybe this was its' Mother like in Jaws 4 come to seek revenge? Again I tried to stamp on it but it evaded my slipper with ease and disappeared behind the sofa. Naturally, feeling pissed that this one had made a mockery of me I waited until it crawled up the wall later on. Man this one was arrogant, struttin' up that wall like Norm in a locker room (Kindergarden). And bam! I got the fucker with a rolled up newspaper. But questions remained, where were they all coming from? Was this some new Arachnid right of passage to reach the kitchen without meeting an ill fate at the hands of the evil brown giant in the rocking chair? And would there be a repeat battle the following night?

Yes, yes there was.

You'll be glad to know that I survived. Again, TV, same time. Except this time the bugger came crawling along the wall above the fire place in full view. And this one was the biggest so far; I'd need a bigger chair. But no more chairs, I went an got some bug spray! Half a can later when I was kinda seeing the world in shades of green I decided that maybe this one had won the day until it succumbed and fell to the floor stoned with a mighty thud behind the sofa. Man what a relief I thought. So as I sat there wondering where the hell all these monster spiders had come from and whether to check in the garden for strange glowing meteors, when the bastard suddenly came charging out from under the sofa like Silver running from a girl. Of course my reactions were a little delayed from the bug spray but I dived out of the way 'A' Team style to safety by the piano. As I backed away it actually followed me! Man, this one was really pissed. Then, the stand off... we stood there sizing each other up, figuring each other out like Gary Cooper and the other dude from that scene in High Noon. Then it flinched and with rapier like grace I grabbed a large file from on top of the piano stool, which contained all my Mums sheet music and slammed it down on like the monkey with the bone from 2001 A Space Odyssey, finally crushing this Moby Dick of spiders.

The file is still on the ground as I'm too frightened to lift it up in case the thing isn't dead and tries to make a final grab for me like the Alien. I can't wait to see what happens when my Mum goes down early in the morning and picks up the file...

Dad v Pizza



I always said that my Dad's kinda like Grandpa Simpson, but brown instead of yellow; the other night I was in the kitchen thinking what to cook my folks for dinner etc. Dad had a choir practice that evening and was getting impatient to eat soon and to get going. He said that there was a frozen pizza in the freezer which would be quicker etc. We ended up arguing over it as I refused to eat shite like that and preferred to cook something fresh and healthier which would take the same amount of time to prepare. But no, he walks into the garage where we have another freezer and comes back saying that he's going to cook the pizza. And the sorry little fella is standing there with a packet of frozen sausages in his hand. Fuck it made me laugh. He just stood there all confused. I know, I'm cruel but it was funny.

Everywhere he goes he leaves a mess behind, it's almost a law of the universe like gravity. I was in a rush once to mail some application forms out one day before last post was collected. But I had included some portfolio samples so I wasn't sure what value stamps to put on them etc. So I asked him to weigh them and see, as he knows the weight limits and charges and all that stuff. So I hand him the first one and I watch him weigh it and when he gives it back to me it has jam on it! But from where? There wasn't any jam around and he seemed stumped as to where it had come from as well!

I swear one of these days he's going to come running home claiming Wolves are chasing him...

Ann Coulter v The rest of us



There were certain things that along with many of my New York friends, I found distasteful about America and that's American politics. Now leaving the War on Terror aside, there's a lot more about US politicking in the mainstream British media due to the upcoming elections. And I think us Brits should pay attention to this as I think there a few lessons/warnings to take note of. One being Ann Coulter, now this woman's so ultra right-wing she could have been Hitler's' press secretary. Heck, she could have taught Joseph Goebbels a thing or two about propaganda.

But I want you to read this article in todays Independent newspaper about her. In the UK we take it for granted that people like her could never get taken seriously because we seem to view ourselves with a little more rational and logical than middle America, who is increasingly paying more attention to Ann Coulter. Middle England and middle America are scarily similar places. We might not have guns but that doesn't make us any smarter. I mean how much of the population voted for the UK Independence Party and the BNP in the European elections this year?

Woohoo, I'm moving back to London! And about bloody time too I say. No sign of a job just yet but I needed to do something to break the circle of only going down there for interviews. I mean if you're trying to move back somewhere it helps to actually be there. It's a bit of a calculated risk but the design market picks up at the end of the summer etc., so lets see if I can get my timing right.

But I've seriously had enough of being at home, I mean I love my folks but I think we all preferred it when there were a few time zones between us. You see my folks (more specifically my Dad) like to argue about anything and everything. Even when they're in agreement they still have a shouting match over it. I mean like tonight; the Olympic opening ceremony. My Dad ended up having an argument with my Mum over the content of the show..? I mean it's funny but I have no idea why she married this man, and yeah-thanks for the second rate genetic material Dad!

Anyway, in a previous blog I mentioned that in a moment of frustration, I applied for a job in Brussels. Well, they've called my bluff and requested an interview in London in a couple of week time. I mean, I don't think I really want to move country's again for a while. I'm sure it would be a great opportunity but then I have just come back from five years abroad. I don't know if I have the energy to do it all over again. But I said I go for the interview anyway just for amusement. I mean it's gonna be funny watching me giving a bad interview so I don't get the job. Mind you I think I've become pretty good at that already.

It's come to my attention that there's an awful lot of sexual stereotyping in Mr Men books. I'm sure their creator Roger Hargreaves was a nice bloke but I think he had some serious problems with women. Maybe his Mother didn't love him enough, or too much... in the not so 'PC' way?

But if you look through the collection of books you get the impression that something's amiss. Mr. Hargreaves has put women into two groups: scary/angry girls and greedy whores. For example, there's Little Miss Scary and Little Miss Angry who clearly fall into the scary/angry category.

What's most disturbing is the greedy whore category where we find Little Miss Greedy and Little Miss Fickle. But alas I'm not even sure what to make of Little Miss Fun who also likes to be Little Miss Quick who later becomes for want of a prophylactic; Little Miss Late.

Cat v Squirrel



So I happened to be walking around the house aimlessly like one of those Bears you see in Romanian Zoo's when I came across a sight. One of my Mum's cats, Tammy or was it Poppy..? Either way they both got the gayest names you could give to a cat. She's the really psychotic one that always brings in dead birds, mice, babies etc. I mean seriously, she's a nut job, even the other cats stay away from her. She's kinda like the Charles Manson of her feline generation. A few weeks back she brought in this little bird which got away from her and sought refuge in a corner. The poor thing clearly had a broken leg and was clearly on it's last legs (sorry, couldn't help it-hehe). So I put the blighter in a tissue box to calm it down and keep it warm etc. But of course the little rascal was faking it-no sooner had I turned my back when it tried to fly out of the clear glass conservatory door. Which was pretty funny because it was closed at the time.

Anyway, I'm walking past when I see Tammy having a rather vigorous staring competition with the squirrel that lives in the attic through the living room window. Alas, Tammy's lust to rip the shit out of Mrs. Periwinkle (the squirrel, who I'm not sure is actually married but I'll investigate that for a future blog), was impeded by the large pain of glass.

Now there's this grape vine that grows by the corner of the house that runs all the way up to the roof and provides an easy means of elevation for the said squirrel to her lush penthouse in the attic. And it was from there that she was looking down through the window at Genghis ' the cat' Kahn who was giving some serious eyeballing in return. Tammy eventually starts clawing at the window and looks to me for intervention. However, being neutral in this evolutionary battle of wills I wasn't going to get involved, besides I didn't want to spoil the entertainment.

But the whole thing made me think of how there have been squirrels living in the attic for years, generation upon generation; like Star Trek but furry. I even used to feed them nuts by hand until that incident with my nuts... er, anyway they've been there so long I think they have a legal right to claim renters' rights, the little buggers. And there have been generations of cats who've tried in vain to catch them. The last two cats (Kiri and Sushi, again with the names... ) were pretty inventive though, but after years of scheming, mysterious injuries and Vets bills they gave up. Seriously, when you see one of your cats walk by whistling with a nail gun it kinda shocks you; I didn't even know cats could whistle.