Delusional until death

1 Sep

The delusional thinker can fall into two categories. Those who continue blindly on the path and those who veer off it for common sense.
The thing with common sense, and I’m sure you’ve heard the idiom before, that it’s not too common is it! Usually when you’re doing something a bit fruity-loops, it takes the good sense of someone else to put you on the path of straight thinking. If you can just listen to that good sense then you can achieve all the wonders that people have envisioned for you.
If however you stubbornly decide to stay in your little delusional bubble, the chances are you’ll die with your fantasies being just that. Dreams! 
There is one thing interesting however about sticking to the path of delusion. Those who do leave it for common sense will never realise their dream. Ever! But those who stay on that dusty road with their arms pressed tight before their faces to shield their prophetic eyes from the sandstorm that veils the future ahead, they, they have a chance. In fact, 100% of people who achieve the unachievable were delusional. A reality that was not in existence was literally created by their delusion. By their belief. 
To sacrifice your madness for someone else’s reality is no crime. It can happen for love. It can happen for peace. It can happen for great acts of selflessness. People achieve and contribute wonders on the the path of unfulfilled ambition, profiting humanity everyday and we should applaud such behaviour for without good sense we wouldn’t be where we are now as a species.
But…….
For those who dream 

in colours undiscovered 

who refuse to paint in blue 

and red 

and green

when they refute 

what you have seen

hold on 

because you are few 

and far between.

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Vanhel Singh- The Domestic Saga- Part 2

28 Aug

I stood there on the doorstep of my side-kick’s (AKA Dr. Fallum) Notting Hill residence on that icy Monday morning with my finger pressed down on the door-bell.
I didn’t much enjoy anyone’s company, let alone Fallum’s who was a young woman, but far too hideous to ever be considered attractive. In all honesty, our relationship was based chiefly on the fact that she had somehow got her hands on a spirit computer, capable of identifying daemons from other realms and so her acquaintance was invaluable. From me I suppose she was able to live vicariously through my adventures and by association fantasise herself a real vigilante.
She came to the door in her dressing gown and a stupid look on her face.
“Vanhel? What’re you doing here? It’s 7am in the morning!”
“Would you hurry up Fallum. It’s bad enough that I can’t get ahold of you on weekends, let alone that I have to stand on your doorstep like a commoner,” I chided her as I brushed past her for her office upstairs.
“Goodness! Ok….., Uhm, I’ll be ten minutes Vanel. Let me just put some clothes on.”
……..
“Good god Doc,” I said straining back in my chair to escape her odour. “What are you wearing? ‘Au de desperation’? I’m sure any brothel would be happy to take you without the fuss of that wretched perfume.”
“What can I do for you Vanhel?”
“My house-mate, Ed. I need you to run a check on him. I have a tip that he’s in league with the dark lord.”
“A tip from who Vanhel? We talked about Ed. He’s nice remember. He cares about people. He cares about you. He’s a nurse. You said you approved of nurses.”
“Are you going to check or not?”
“Yes, yes. Ok. Here we go.”
She sat there studiously for nearly five minutes on her Apple spirit computer communing with the dark realms while I waited in suspense.
“Well, that’s confirmed it!” She said suddenly, breaking the silence.
“Ah huh,” I jumped up. “I knew it.” He has that look about him.
“No, no, Vanhel. I checked on the spirit computer and I can confirm that Ed is not a daemon or anything else.”
“Really?”
“It never lies Vanhel.”
“Yes, that’s true I suppose.”
“Now you are still checking every suspect by me aren’t you Vanhel?” 
“Jesus, Fallum who’s the sidekick here and who’s The Batman?”
“Yes, of course, I know my place Vanhel. I just want to be a part of the team for every mission that’s all.”
“Do not fret Fallum. Your contributions have been invaluable and I would never dream of leaving you behind. Only in the case of those I’m certain are vampires will I slay without you.”
“Woah now Vanhel, remember we agreed you’d call me first on our direct line…..”
“Yes, yes, yes, Doc.”
“Because Vanhel, you know…”
“On another note Fallum, about our vehicle. I’ve saved nearly a quarter of the deposit. Once I have the sufficient funds we can buy our avenge-mobil and go full time slaying and you can stop your silly little whatever it is job you do. What do you think of that, hey?”
“Oh! That’s….. That’s great Vanhel. I can’t wait.”
Excellent I thought. That ought to keep her hushed up for a while. I’d rather cruelly promised her partnership in my slaying business and that I’d take her away from this boring life by employing her as my full time side-kick. Of course I had no intention of doing any such thing but I needed to keep her on the team for her spirit computer.
“Vanhel, I think it would be a good idea if we go and stay at Trinity for a few days. Just until you’ve had a few days to forget about this Ed thing.”
“No Fallum, I think not. My powers grow weak in your white mansion and the servants are quite disagreeable. I’ve got what I came for.”
“Oh, ok. Well you’ve got my number, ok? Please call me if you have more suspicions at all. Ok?”
“Yes, yes, that’ll be all Fallum. I’ll see myself out.”
“Ok. Goodbye Vanhel. My line is always open.”
The doc looked tired I’d thought throughout our meeting. She’d evidently been working too hard. I’d dropped a few Valium in her drink before I’d left to help her sleep.
“Goodbye Doc. Rest up,” I said. “For the night is coming and our work has just begun.”

Vanhel Singh- The Domestic Saga- Part 1

27 Aug

“Mmmmm, something smells good’, said Ed, my flat mate walking into the kitchen. Why was he home on a Friday evening? He was usually out sodomising by this time.

“Yes Ed. I’m grilling some chicken.” I replied with my back turned to him.
“Smells incredible. You’re quite the cook Vanhel. That fancy dish you cooked on Monday with the creamy stuff and …”
“…..Moussaka.” 
“And now this. You should be a cook,” he continued rummaging around in the fridge.
“Yes, well, hardly Michelin star.” I’d tried to be as curt as possible. He wasn’t leaving the room and in three and and half minutes my dinner would be ready to serve up. My cutlery and chilled orange juice, with pulp, were ready by the TV where my movie was ready on pause but Ed’s pointless small talk was threatening my schedule.
“Well it’s better than ….”
“Why aren’t you out tonight Ed?” I interrupted.
Oh, ha! It’s the weekend before payday mate and I’m skint! I was saying though it looks better than what I’ve got for tonight. In fact, that reminds me, I’ve not even been to the shops yet. I’d better go and grab something before they close.”
I wasn’t his mate despite his insistence on referring to me as such and these pleasantries were a nuisance. I needed him to leave for the shops as soon as possible and I’d been studying just the book for the solution on human communication. Apparently people use subtext when they talk to one another and so with a my best piss off voice, I turned about and asked, “Would you like some of this chicken Ed?”
“Oh no, I don’t want to steal any of your food although it does look delicious.”
“It’s fine. Please have some,” I proceeded, staring him death in the eyes.”
“Uhm, well, I guess I can always go to the shops tomorrow instead. It is quite late I suppose. Yeah, sure. Thank you, that’d be lovely Vanhel.”
It was in that moment that I realised I hated Ed.
“My pleasure,” I replied.
What a selfish thing for him to say. Not to mention I’d chopped up some avocado slices next to it, on top of a green salad. It looked quite professional and now I couldn’t just give him the chicken otherwise I’d seem stingy. I had to give him the avocado and salad too. 
“Would you like some avocado salad too Ed?”
“D’you know what, I’ve not had avocado in years. If it’s not too much bother I wouldn’t mind just a wee bit. Just a wee bit mind.”
Oh just a wee bit Ed! Just a wee bit of my £2 ripe taste the fucking difference avocado that I bought especially from M&S wee bit.
“Sure Ed.”
He had ruined my meal and now I would be hungry in the middle of my movie and have to get up for more food. A flash of inspiration hit quite suddenly. I had ice cream in the freezer. I could get the tub half way through the movie and schedule a toilet break. Crisis averted!
I served up the food, Ed bouncing next to me and grinning like a moron dog with his tail wagging. I handed him his plate and tried one last pleasantly with the least subtle undertone of I hope you choke and die accompanying it.
“Enjoy your meal.” 
“What a feast!” He jumped. “It’s not everyday I get treated…..”
I walked out of the room before I had to listen to the rest of his irritating talk. I was only two minutes late I saw by my watch as I sat down ready to enjoy the first half when Ed came out with his plate and sat down next to me.
“Don’t mind if I join you do you?”
He’d been incorrigible demanding my food and now he wanted to share my TV time. God damn him I thought, how will I enjoy ice cream time? He will want some too and I only have half a tub left. Not to mention he’ll want toilet breaks. I bet he’s not gone recently. He hasn’t even brought cutlery! He’ll have to keep getting up to do stuff. Does he intend to eat it without cutlery?
“Do you intend to eat without cutlery Ed?”
“All goes down the same way doesn’t it!” He smiled with that impish look of deviance as he fingered a slippery piece of avocado, suspending it above his mouth before dropping it in one disgusting slurp and licking his fingers.
My assistant Dr. Fallum had advised me to take precautions lately when it came to stabbing suspect agents of the dark lord. Apparently she’d heard that a new bread of daemon sprayed acid blood if punctured from its wound. Her intel was usually pretty good so I though it best not to take any risks at the moment. Not with my pyjamas on anyway. I would leave him for now and consult Fallum on Monday.
“Your time will come,” I chuckled as I sat back and pressed play. “Your time will come.”
“No worries mate! I’ll cook tomorrow hey!”

VANHEL SINGH 3

16 Aug

We’d met on Tinder. She seemed clean and although I couldn’t zoom in on her pictures, I was reasonably sure she had cut her nails. She looked Greek.

I had taken all the standard precautions in case she was a vampire. I’d brushed my teeth with garlic, rubbed my armpits with garlic, worn my garlic necklace on top of my silver cross necklace. I’d even picked a vegan restaurant for our date so there’d be no blood on the menu and at a time that we’d still have daylight.
She arrived. She still looked Greek.
“You still look Greek,” I said.
“Oh……. Well thank you. I think! I’m actually Italian by decent. You must be Vanhel. I’m Gloria,” as she put out her hand to shake. Her nails were short! It was safe. 

She followed me to the table inside and as I stopped abruptly to scope an escape route in case she was a fraud she knocked into the back of me. 
“My, I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy sometimes,” she insisted. She then began sniffing. Her nose crunching in disgust as though she’d licked a lemon.
“What’s the matter?” I tested her quickly. Does something smell? Is it me? Do you not like the way I smell?”
“Oh, no, no. I was just had err. I was just had an itchy nose.”
She smiled and we sat down. It was a strange smile. Sort of timid. She kept staring at me and her eyes were magnified by her glasses. Why should anybody stare so much? It was unnerving me and if the food hadn’t of come and distracted her gaze I’d of thought she’d of wanted to eat me. 
Despite her disturbing focus on my eyes, I was disarmed by her very nice hair. It was brown. My favourite colour and it was cut into into the shape of a bowl. My favourite piece of crockery.
As we ate I put her through subtle test after test.
“Do you like biting people Gloria?”
“Oh!” She seemed startled. “No, I’ve never tried it….. It’s not really my thing. But, but if you like I can try I suppose.”
“No,” I said, quite contented. “That won’t be necessary.” And from there I relaxed, allowing myself to fall into the most beautiful evening wrapped under her charm.
She told fantastic jokes.
“What did the cheese say to itself in the mirror? Halloumi!”
She was clean.
“I hate mess. I have to have order. I even iron my bra and panties.”
I was becoming fond of her.
“Oh and I loved that bit you put on your profile about no vampires!” She said snorting on her wine. “My ex-boyfriend never left the house and practically lived in the dark playing those stupid video games. Now that’s what I call a vampire.”
“Without a doubt,” I nodded. Was she a kindred spirit I thought? Perhaps even an ally against the night crawlers?”
We left the restaurant hand in hand.
The final test loomed as we walked back to mine. Could she cross the threshold of my house without being invited in? Many had failed and just stood there on my doorstep, expecting me to usher their entry, only to find a stake through their heart.
We had only to cross the bridge and cut through the park and I was I admit, guilty of a butterfly or two. She said she was cold. Being the perfect gentleman, I immediately took off my jacket and went to drape it over her shoulders when my night was shattered.
There, at the nape of her neck was a tattoo of a pentacle. How had I been so blind? 
“What’s that on your neck,” I asked casually as we walked across the bridge.
“Oh, nothing,” she turned to me sheepishly, hunching the collar of my jacket higher so I couldn’t see it properly anymore but her reaction was all the evidence I needed.
“It was just a stu…..”
But I’d seen enough. I quickly picked her up and threw her over the bridge. Her scream was bitter and confirmed my worst suspicion. I didn’t wait for her to fly back up because in truth I’d never fought a witch before and after the spell she’d obviously cast over me that night I was a little afraid her magic would be too much for me so I ran home. 
It had cost me a jacket.

Vanhel Singh 2

14 Aug

I was making my usual morning commute to work through Victoria station. It was the busiest part of rush hour when I was assaulted. By a woman. With her words.
She jumped out at me with, “Free booji-mooji berry juice?”
“Arghhh!” I cried, jumping back a step. “What?”
“That’s ok sir. I asked if you’d like a free boji-moji berry juice. It’s delicious and it comes in two exciting flavours. Goji-boji-moji flavour or lemon-boji-moji! Which flavour would you like sir? It’s a free promotion.”
I wasn’t thirsty but I was late.
“Is this what you wanted from life”, I snap at her but she can’t hear me for the ant colony of people swarming past. They claw and snatch for this drink without a moment’s pause. 
I’m intrigued. What is so special about this juice that everybody wants it?
“Girl, what is so special about this juice that everybody wants it?” I ask.
She turns back hurriedly to me while feeding the horde with rapid hands.
“Well sir, it’s nourishing, low calorie, and most importantly it’s rich in antioxidants so anti ageing, wink wink.”
Wink wink! The nerve. I could hardly contain my shock at her audacity, and with it she shoved a bottle into my hands and found fresh supplies.
I was swift in my reaction, dropping the bottle and my briefcase and drawing out my wooden stake from my jacket. She’d turned her back on me for the last time and before she new what’d hit her, I’d plunged the stake deep into her back aiming straight for her heart.
She gasped for breath, stumbling around to meet her maker, and then crumpling to the floor as I took my time. It’s amazing really in a city so big how blind people can be as nobody even seemed aware of the slaying. I stooped down next to her, wiping the blood from the stake with my handkerchief. She stuttered for a breath, choking up a splutter of blood as I calmly announced myself. 
“My dear, the grave error you made was in thinking me a common fool. As I’m sure you are now aware, I am not a fool. I am the one and only Vanhel Singh. Did you really think Vampire that you could give out your eternal youth elixir to these docile sheep and that I wouldn’t find you out? No doubt it was a clever ploy to sow your evil into the veins of thousands, turning them all into Nosferatu in one mass operation but you lost and now your game is up.”
She tried to reach out for me, always as they do before the end to scratch me with her infectious claws no doubt, but I was equal to her guile, retreating back and throwing out my boot to her face with a kick in one glorious reflex.
“Wink wink, spawn of Satan.”
That is when the crowds noticed what had happened. A chorus of screams all at once as the people flooded out of the station to escape from what they now obviously realised was a real life vampire among them. They were frantic with bottles falling from their hands left right and centre, the penny obviously dropping that those ‘anti-oxidants’ were a fast track to joining the undead but the danger was already averted. 
‘Let them run,’ I sighed. The people love a good story to gossip at the office with their morning tea and biscuit. 
I picked up a stray bottle taking note of the company. Hagaan Daas! 
‘So the vampires are being funded from Germany. I dare say that’s their headquarters. My mission was clear. ‘
I picked up my briefcase and returned my stake to the sheath of my jacket. The station was nearly empty.
‘Hmm, I suppose I’d better top up my Oyster card.’

Vanhel Singh 

13 Aug

An old work associate dropped into my office today. She’d not walked through those doors for nearly ten years and there we all sat in our own filth, just waiting for her to make her grand return.
She just sort of casually popped her head around the corner and said….
“Hello everyone! Long time no see.”
People sad enough to remember her for not having left their chairs for the whole time, rushed up to her and patted her like a little Labrador.
I’d always loathed Sharon when she was here and I had no intention of moving from my chair but Grace, that hateful, hateful old bitch, spins round in her chair next to me, tapping my leg and gesturing me up to see Sharon because Grace is old and old people have nothing better to do than interrupt my time with their stories and their contagious decay.
“Don’t touch me Grace.” I scream in a high pitch.
Everybody looks around in alarm but I hold my hand up to calm them and let them know I’m ok.
“Don’t ever touch me again Grace”, I growl in a low tone to let her know I’m serious. She looks horrified and I notice that her teeth are yellowing from every direction and she appears to have cornflakes stuck in between each one. It’s disgusting.
She stalks off over to Sharon, tail between her legs as I carefully cut a circle out of my trouser around the perimeter where she’d made contact and take great care to discard it without touching it with my bare skin. A little leg showing through my trousers is no hardship when faced with the alternative of old woman’s touch which has been known to burn through tougher substances like a corrosive. I need first aid now and the nearest box is right next to the crowd.
I limp bravely after my attack over to the rabble assembled, safely retrieve the green box and with spontaneous beneficence, I decide to extend an olive branch before I clean my wounds. 
Being careful to keep Grace at a good distance, I address Sharon loud enough to shut everyone else up. I give one customary “You’re back”, and five polite smile and nods as Sharon backhands my generosity with an excessive seven smile and nods and three desperate platitudes. I tut disapprovingly a few times to shut her up and when she predictably leads the conversation back to her, I scoff to let her know we’re all bored.
I time two minutes of aimless babble from them all as they drool over lady Diana, and as I turn and walk away, one sycophant comments on how Sharon hasn’t aged a day.
I halt in my tracks and turn out of curiosity. I squint to look through the bustle but Giles the accountant is in the way.
“Move out of the way Giles”, I say as I drag him by his neck with ease down to the floor and grab Sharon’s face between both hands examining her closely.
“Good lord! He’s right.” I notice. “You’ve not aged a day.”
I turn and run to my desk. The crowd start to murmur. They’ve obviously noticed the problem too. I pull out my samurai sword, concealed for just such an occasion under my desk. I charge back over to Sharon who has evidently realised that I’ve found her out and starts to run. 
Everyone else screams at the scene like Romans cheering their gladiators but Sharon is no gladiator. I quickly catch up with her and lop her head off with one swift slice. I’d truthfully been practicing on water melons after work when everyone else left so I was pretty fresh.
Grappling the medusa by her hair, I held her high up and showed her off to everyone in the office. Some started to throw up. A few hid in corners. Others were making frantic phone calls. Probably to newspapers to break the news.
“She was a vampire,” I declared. “Not ageing in ten years! Not on my watch you don’t.”

WAR IS NOT THE PROBLEM – YOU ARE

16 Jul

War is a necessary resolution to an uncompromising force of injustice. 

Read that statement again. 
If you disagree with it then you’re gonna hate what’s to come.
The merit of war cannot be questioned when oppression is the alternative. The passive amongst us would disagree, but the passive amongst us are often protected by societies who use arms as a means of protection thereby allowing the passive to exercise their belief. That does not mean that the passive approach is without precedence- Gandhi is the most famous pacifist of modern times- but it is a method that places dependency on the mercy of others and history documents that our rise to dominant species of this planet has not come by mercy but by blood.
Our blood thirst has been pivotal in our evolution, but as we find conflicts between our global tribes in wars of one-upmanship (see the Cold War for exhaustive evidence), and a real threat of self destruction for our entire species, the solution lies not in trying to dull the fire of war that has proven a sturdy vehicle from our beginning, but rather resolve the injustice that creates the by-product.
It sounds like such a simple statement. Duh, stop the cause of war! But it is far more than just asking for world peace. Doing nothing. Standing up for nothing. These are crimes that irk the courageous and the brave. Equally, slaughtering on behalf of rhetoric and propaganda without knowing why you dealt a blow is just as deplorable.
Ghandi’s message of “be the change you want to see in the world,” is a most excellent starting point for all to make an assessment of any larger situation. To shrink the macro to the micro. 
For example, if you look at your family situation. Do you have peace? If so then it is because justice and comradery have been taught, mastered and prevailed. There is no need to conflict. Be aware that peace is not a repression of thoughts and actions for any such withdrawal will undoubtably manifest itself in some reaction, if not immediately then in the future. 
Now imagine war. For many families it’s a reality. Why do you war? Because of injustices of course. Someone feels like they are treated unfairly; not understood, and so they seek revenge. 
How many families hold councils? Meets where every member is given an equal opportunity to speak without the slightest interruption? How many friends, even in times of peace, take time to sit down and in a loving way critique with the aim of growing stronger rather than wounding. How many couples are this honest?
These are the sorts of preventative steps that are essential in creating peace. But they so rarely happen. Your boss upset you. You come home angry. You snap at your loved ones. They snap back. Someone declares war. We find divides. Pacifists. War generals. 
I for one won’t stop my individual wars. If I see a bully, unrelenting, then I’ll war. If I feel unfairly treated without reason or remorse then I’ll war. If I’ve had a hard day and someone gives me shit on the train ride home without provocation then with that muthafucka I am riding into war. I war because I do not wish to stop. I do not want to cease fighting. Do you? Could you? Could you at every opportunity stop all the mini wars you wage? Every little expression, every gesture, every harsh or even passive aggressive comment? Every slip? Could you wind yourself up so tightly to deny the beating drums of your marching fury? And then do you suppose that on a larger scale, in charge of a nation, you would suddenly become beneficent?
Stopping war is not our concern as a species. We must have it at present. To be without it would be a crime to the injustice that marauds our time. Justice on the other hand, is a problem. Equal rights for all. Equal rights agreed upon by the majority and reviewed at regular intervals by the majority, so that future generations aren’t subject to the oppression of their forefathers. That should be our chief concern. Let peace come only if we can treat one another from day to day with integrity. Let it come if we can earn it. Now fuck off or I’ll bite your face off.

  

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the annotated zoetrope

The Zoetrope, or "Wheel of Life," is an instructive Scientific Toy, illustrating in an attractive manner the persistence of an image on the retina of the eye; by revolving the cylinder by the hand, and looking through the openings, the images passing rapidly before the eye are blended, so as to give the figures the motions of life in the most natural manner.

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