Pulling Water

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In the spirit of my Dandy partner’s last post and the contrasting light-hearted wisdom and in light of the full moon (super one) and all that it means to our expression and communication, I suppose a thought: another consideration is that the words ‘I’m tired of… and I’m sick of’… create somewhat of a curse of poor health upon the individual. Not all but many are becoming more conscious of the power of these vibrations and how they bring to earth an experience in direct reflection of those damning words (read English for Spelling’, by Angel Lewis). Therefore, I shall replace these words with ‘Im inspired by’ specially since I’ve arrived here with this inspired rant.

I’m inspired by the fact that I’m searching in the Kings College building, the strand, for an event that doesn’t exist, well not in that building–not today anyway. That’s after being sent there from their neighbours at Somerset House who’s helpful receptionists swore I was misinformed, so inspiring. Oh, so it’s the Nesta building according to my email invite, about twenty minutes from the building. How inspiring is the fact that I walked in a full circle due to information overload, the curse of abundance via modern technology and man’s ability to email and email and email until there’s such a plethora of shite in one’s inbox that one cannot tell which are relevant and which are not? 

Thanks to Google (I never say that) I’m now in the Nesta building on the Victoria Embankment awaiting the start of a discussion on pollution and the environment.

I get to the reception area and I’m kindly asked to wait while they set up. I see a young British/windrushian descendent sitting, waiting, peering at me over her permanent looking spectacles. By the way, I just recently slapped myself on the wrist discovering that sometimes my observations of the opposite sex (please don’t confuse yourself by entertaining any more than two) are saturated with a male chauvinist initial image of sexuality first. I rebuke this.

 

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And so, I see a human that so happens to be a gynoid. I say hello.

“Hi, what’s your name”.  She utters (in a Birmingham accent).

“Angel”. I reply.

“Why are you here”? Oh! she must be one of the organisers.

“Well, I’m here on behalf of a group called MADE. We are basically community liaisons, helping the community bridge relationships with local councils”

“In what way?”

“Well, we aim to reflect the opinions of locals and voice them to authorities that engage with those communities”

“But how?” She says in a probing voice.

“Well, we aim to get the opinions of the people in our neighbourhood considered by those in power, like social housing and…”

“I don’t understand how though, in what way? You’re not being clear about what you do exactly. Look, I work with my community and I make sure we educate children as it’s better to educate children rather than fixing broken adults”…

OK, good point when you’re not sitting under the debris of a super, super moon but…

“Look, I said exactly that. I could have said it in that exact way. We have programs, ready to go, that are set to educate kids and empower them to push their skills forward and instill confidence in them too.  But it’s personal, you just come at me asking questions in a manner not conducive with a conversation but an interrogation. I could go into detail but it’s very emotional for me I come from a fractured community devastated by an inferno and…blah and blah and what’s your name anyway?”

She offered her name with her eye’s wide and peeled back. I must have insulted her, the third person today,  I looked crazy. And of course, I look around and realise that during these measly three minutes people have gathered and I’m on stage as their pre-event entertainment.  At that moment the organisers came to announce that they’re ready and it’s time to go in now.

I assure you I did have good intentions but all of a sudden I didn’t feel to socialise anymore. I retreat, head to the cleanest lavatory I’ve ever seen in my life, have a pee, come out, pour myself some green tea and decide that I’m going home. I sit around for a little while to get the benefits of my green tea, get my broomstick ready and I’m out, before I get hurt or hurt somebody; just not in the mood anymore.

3 – 0 to the devil.

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I’m inspired by people who arrive into my space assuming I need to explain myself. I’m also inspired by the speed in which I become a lunatic and habitually respond with unwarranted justification. My ego is certainly a piece of work. There I was missing this important event and writing a piece inspired by that water bubbling moon. The only message I hope to convey is: note the moon’s apogee, don’t let it sneak up on you, hold it just until it wanes and then squeeze it until it’s completely gone, stay within your reasonable mind until the next acme. But don’t let it get you, see it coming and even then it can hold your sense of reason and steel your marbles leaving you sulking like a toddler.

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For Lilith.

Angel Lewis

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Please support the Universal Commons Measurement Challenge https://www.nesta.org.uk/event/clean-air-our-natural-capital/

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