A "friend"

 So, seventeen years ago almost precisely, one ascertained that the vile little cockZucker had repurposed that word, using the babes who were grandiose moggiemaniacs...  who could only get out of bed if they knew that their 500 Fakebook ones meant something....someone  cared...

All fake of course qwhy the insanity already present from a decade of their Big Brother and all that vile crap  - a new valueless genre, invented by a largely childLESS 'media' class of creeps (and it would be improper to even wonder just how many were childless by dint of being a bit 'same sexy' ) who got jobs at Channel Four as they werent quite posh enough for the Beeb...

But 'friend'  - never mind latterday performative wellness as currency; long before it was quite clear that this performative "all my many many friends.. and my network" thing destroyed friendship as you can only have a few real ones at any one time...

As one can see in the wanness in the faces come a bit of a fuel price increase or quite ordinary extreme weather ...

Pure fear... and inability to accept the end... which may be a few years being a lil' chillier than they had assumed as younger fledgelings...

As they pissed off all the potential nestmates with their Utterly unrealistic Tolle upon,

 lets get it on... 

even if cos there arent any other sane ones left.

And Andy PAndy and Zac the Houseboaterist wont tell their adoring fans

"you may be a little warmer in your Winterings, if there are two per woodburner"

Plus it's an expensive taxi ride to A+E if you whack your thumb on the job so painfully, and can't drive. So tolerate someone in this 'present' 'moment'  NOW...just in case The Borders...close

Anyway there are those who are struggling to actually have any real friends. But a friend+ is one who sniggers at - even if digitally:

" ...so there's you and your hilarious babe-as-thief song... and the way you sang it ferk you meant it.... steal the silver lining from his breeches too if you could have! ...but .not only did we meet adjacent to THE most romantic place in history...aside  what to me is the most The Road road in history... never mind your fabulous 'real woman' enjoyment of vicious violence... and well developed upper torso muscular abilities....  we maintained our  entirely miraculous lil' link  cos i stole from you..... and even admitted the terrible beghhaviour as having manipulative and dark undercurrents .... i mean as i said there will have been STONEAGE folklore against a woman's whackjob-hunting club being filched.... 'up to the magyc circle with 'im and sacrifice im for his Uttermost cheek.... chop im to bits and feed im to  those angry gods...' ....  

And reads one's sincere message " i hope you arent having issues with your delapidations..Im an expert at sharkteethed legal redress against the baddies if so..." and actually pongs back a coherent communique...

BUt would Voltaire or even Montaigne know, that to have found a real friend in THE one place in the whole pestilent Aisle which twenty years ago one knew for sure was the life-force giving manure spread around the tree or vine within which Medusa herself bred and trained her serpents....so never in a million suns worth of it all ends in entropy and dead  darknesses go there! ... is the greatest irony in  all of history put together with what is unamaginably also the true version hidden in the coal cellar...

The best joke of all, on..moi...

Even if a splendid definition of friend before that was eaten alive and turned into snake shit

However.. there are issues and dimensions that must never, yet, be even hinted at...as a friend must be 100% loyal. No matter what - as she has been told. 

(to stick ina  folksong she needs to write but i have 24 hrs ONLY to attempt first draft and of course when one has .true....purpose.. then it gets far harder! even if it is in three years waffle here - if i could sitill it to 5 verses then all would be well.... )

  

Well, really, its that rock paper scissors thing....

except the metallic weapon replaced by her woody ones...

But the real war, to the deathknell of those fake therapists...

Is if i am 'interested' in someone, null-class;  rather classy in her darkie garb....

(i bet it smells, too)...  but her lad, mid twenties, she has been told.... yet another lost to their Black Dog...

That can be dangerous as Mrs FAntastic  discovered as she was so hilariously flushed by her kids, down the bog

This will indeed be war......so as to rescue just ...or at least ED ferkin ucate err..

After all she lives around the corner 

from the famous one who drove em all around that bend

But she thinks lion tamin' impresses me..

Only one kind of nulling is what he needs someone to be

  

Anyway what a cultureless ridiculous phonefucked generation....when you spend a day tolerating some rather gobby linemen around and about, never mind their tacky tinny thumpy thumpy musac disturbing my otherwise most quiet hillocks.......

"matey..... i would love to be one of you lot.... I mean according to The Bard your jobdescription, in your song is the most perfect  ever rit..never mind having the best ever whackjob philosophy line innit..... ..and frankly  he is right....  you mean youve never even heard of your jobsong song....

 flip me ....  your phones with or without lines really have ruined society even more than her Fatty McGee... "

Now...right... there's a job to do and a purely random funny, i had no idea as no telly for twenty five years in fact six...

Mister PArtridge had infact had second sight so long ago...

Of exactly the embodied language she  - so many she's of her sort

they would headbutt you as last resort

errata thats all they actually wish

As AP so hilariously taunted even i not known for an unCONTROLLED piddle in the pants was a gigglin...

Anyway to get new-phase far far more philosophical, and ruthless.... 

(" god we really are the chosen mermaid class especially all these underwater lovesongs youve filled my algorithm with now...  but stop... i mean we are the luckiest generation ever poor maudlin mid twenty something wont even have in thirty or fourty years ....  just that one line in your fave one I'll say it starts at the end... i mean i never dreamed in a million lifetimes i would hear that again and now  even see it sung... as 'twas sung then... in our formative and so hormonally filled younger years with or without lions involved.... pure vibes the real kind.... no other generation has had return in such a truly sublime poignant and whackstick around your poor head keeping you far too much in Oracle Tart's actual purity of a perfect frequency lost but refound... ...blahh blahh...."  

"However.. there really is NO hope when the radio 4chan play i was sat down to enjoy the other day on a van babe and her nomadly freedom down at the coast....

"no council tax nor water bill

"like Nomadland.... is such a vile self-pity  piece...

"and of course she runs out of road when she ..makes herself ..perfomatively ILL!")

Now far to many rather cutsey lil' moments of late to keep up with one or two rewrites.

The best but maybe lost, bouncing on THE JOB:

Now i really get it... a decade back it was all (internally 

no oner to speak with even slightly philosophically: 

"now i get it their currency, social glue is endless moaning about what's wrong with them.... charity shop, supermarket aisle, even at the petrol pumpsd

i can't take it any more, runa  mile!

up the hills away from their endless ills"

But that's  all really rather reversed as one slides up that greasy class pole.

Get into the middlin' lot, even if they all of course dream of being pukka upper (middle - the aristos all became the loudest junkies with the most glamorous drug habits nobody really has any empathy for...when they should! Quite randomly several decades back, before she was necktied to death in some pompous lil' prick's sportscar on the hairpin bends of those splendid Voshes.. a random and sweet encounter with one who had been damaged so much by the  soulless banker dad - of course was drawn to the equally damaged poor famous junky Master Astor... who i saw at her funeral probably junk-sick, couldnt even shed a tear

 to say goodbye to  the one who above all was to everyone most dear)

anyway forget all the rest of all figuring and philosophy

As at last i realised 'wellness' is their only social currency.

and ferk me

if you've run out of it....

Because the one really rather fundamental part of life not one can do

Is come to terms with the fact  the end comes, to everyone, even you. 

But i had it better in first mental draft, i can't quite alchemise back maybe ive lost another recipe

wellness, their meaningless only currency

All currencies any sane mind knows merely imaginary.

etc to be comnnt...a new phase to reset.

So, i have absolutely no idea ...

 ..if ANYone can ever take in the words...

Excepting the null-class, her classlessship whackjob. 

I suspect she whacks her way through life merrily oblivious.

After all she was a lion tamer (though detail has yet to be ascertained - was she taming some fake lion taming bloke's lions?

How, only, 'interesting'

And i have extremely shark teethed radar when it comes to the so many faking their 'circus skills' so as to show off to the mermaid-class who invaded the land and made Maggie's farm a drug den of  supplement sales transactional relationships, only, below their womb wraps and fake rastalocks  )

I know she is likely to be above the words, 

After all its about looking into the lion's gob and knowing you either fly over the mountain or crash into it.

Or are as The Mong learned, you're either up that duff, or not

And when you are, all changes. 

And you entirely forget past Miss Carriage...

Anyway i know nothing, except i doubt anyone except said whacky LT, 

can actually take in words such as " I am constant".

And playfully Voltaire, even if i would love time, now, to attempt to learn more about him. Even if living in an ancient dysfunctional family 'home' - or in the serf's quarters..one realised 'history' is not even a partly pickled pinprick under the skin of who people really were...

That 'home' not being available to inherit after it was actually blown up as the uppers were so laudanum  'n punch pickled they couldnt keep up even the window taxes.

Anyway so what as so sadly seen own eyes: A real 'compassionate' empathisation...  death can come along just like that, when one gets to a certain age.  A man who a few months ago had good bounce for his age  - about the only one who I would see regularly up that (now finished)  hillock pathway... suddenly looks like he's been on their 'Liverpool Pathway' (you'll have to look it up" I ain't got time to waste on those not in the loopy loop that got snagged around everyone else's  collar as they try to repurpose it as some Brand of fake bohemian necktie).

Anyway...if i say "the great reset" i mean a great one that takes time... and via mutual benefit, has worked.

Even if the second phase may take a bit of time too.

But it is more than a 'constant' feeling. I myself a stupid optimist don't even get how I could have a spring into summer and into nowish of such total bounce. Unimagined bounce i thought the bounce times were chucked in the swamp of their sick minds (distracting me - so plenishy-'GIVING' of my time and anergy) in March. 

So if one is to  - short cut language! claim a bit of Voltairean heritage or similarity -  and i only have constantly all my life seven cups of strong Serbian style coffee a morn', one has to at lease describe 'the common good'. 

I doubt the (as one tried to simplify via shared lexicon twenty years ago ) 'newish age' lot - which means almost every invader to Swestershire, and all of those invading the Marches even if they were clearly i see now those who couldn't afford a gaff in Dooney-Poshshire...  and thus had / have some innate sourness merely from that failure in their lives.. 

Or 'alternative' or mermaid class, or Toty types... (except her DEFINATE null-classy one ..i only like and value truly the Nullites - are there more? )  or especially fake camp dwellers around Gweekshire...

...My my that was so interesting even if three whole years ago.. seems like yesterday and at once a whole lifetime back - which is how to beat the ferkers into  wiping that smug ejit (Blogger spelling is such a one of em it redlines it as Miss Spelled..)  fake smile off their fake faces...

'The Common Good' being even if the poor sick ADHDer.. or whatever else i forget was her excuse for being too lazy to get up and sort out her twenty tons of hoarded builders-wood  and  other madly collected miscellany...

You have to act towards here the way you would wish all other peeps acted to each other...

Gently kick her arse into gear with a bit of daddy-love, as you are helping her salvage all the wood pannels left for a winter

or so....

no matter what your 'feelings' are...

towards her, cos your plenishy plates of mushy microdose they all preach

don't work. 

And turn you into a vicious b**** straight out of East enders... 

disguised of course behind wombwraps surfie  signage 

and miscellaneous other rotten stage

directions for a play that's no different to that ye olde Hollocaust

or hollow cast..aways 

nothing even to say, about 300 dead children since that so called ceasefire

a tad logistically assisted, down their road

Only ever used to call, someone in authority

and set him on her - not very neighbourly

wow thats a pretty good insta-poem... not pondered never aforethough

Now i gotta write one that .. sums up what i felt when i saw her violence

and hurt thumb, from her dumbass showoff ..dance

 

 

 

But, class.....

 yes...assume...

Me, well I had assumed that nobody else really would bother to try and understand or even face up to that thorny issue. 

Never mind the thornier one of ....

These classless yanks who have to play their crappy bigjob emty Fanfare For The Common man over three minutes of estianddad having a good natter - just about hearable in the background,  sat next to one must assume?

The greatest of all bootleggers Jinal007

 

as theyre revving up for the I aint gonna work for no more lyin BPD Gibbers no more.... song...

One discovered in the Year of Our Lord gave Jinal time to get uploading 2020 while everyone else was moaning and STILL is on 4 chan..

Anyway that wasn't planned not that i ever plan anything, its only what moments does the battery allow...

(weird that older battery gave 1 hour 10 minutes pof charge i thought it was on its way out)

Anyway there is one thing only really to write about fully this glorious summer which will live in these pages forever as i aint even started on the ..light.. the bounce.. the frisson even with Memsaab..

Yes.. the one as so many do whom in the first three sentences tells you of all her labels and what rate of disability theyre trying to gouge back from her not quite believing her...

(there we go a whiole month now of Andy PAndy saying EVERYTHING, except as audio essayed upon here 6 ish weeks back... "YOU WILL ALL... HAVE TO BE MEANS TESTED...AS THATS RATIONAL..."

which they still will never be able to say even when it is implicit in every single Pandy change of policy...as the British are simply a whole aisle of BPDers)

Yes back to that first great chat...a finest communicator even if a tad Miss-led by her pubics into the arms of 'Christ' ...so many of them are in masochistic love with its daft...not the 'ianity' bit which includes justice and good works here never mind solidarity in just such works.... nope, him..

Anyway ehh yes you have to meet the queen of the labels every benefit angle covered (despite obviously being from 'blue' blood not entirely hidden... who is the only one despite her endless list of mental unhealthiness, is intellectual enough to discuss sanely, class.. that which theyre all  obsessed with but none of the others dare ever mention...which i call a mature excellent very very with it mind... as does her retard-tribunal judge, yet she'll still keep her benefits as ...well....

(i shall return to her blesserrr.. i bet her ducks got assassinated, too, as she'l never manage to get a farm hand... or just sane hand)

But class.... now this sweet singer who i am quite sure is partly ruthless behind the sweet smileyness...

It makes me realise, how....as she is truly superb, but she sounds a tad girl next door..

No Mariane Fathful needing to say something so as to get one over the Princess next door in Notty Ill...

And its why i love Brenna doing the badger baiter's song 

so perfectly DESPITE ger OCD knobs and fiddling 

As she is the same class as me.. the nulls... as is this Whackjobber...and its so much more interesting than either ex St Trinians (especially as we know that English private schools perform such genital mutilation that theytoo cant ever have a real orgasm) or those performing their 'worker' origins who are always fake as working class folk just dont have the confidence to do any real performin' and hang loose..

Another gonzo intellectual essay inspired by FAtty McGee's absolute inability to ever say ANYthing...real... about everything. To pay his scotch bill. (yes he had groomed and prostituted himself  with only fake unsatisfaction, to even...her..)

Esteem is!

 

(just how evil The Brecon Beacons National Park is...and what lanyardism is )

(REAL tragedy,  funny that just after i sent the Estelle song to someone..)

so having had to tollerate half a decade one of them....

Who to every attempt at debate immediately HArris you with " but its the  transgendered immos .." (And it looks like at last she has been sacked even if she was bridged to HER sacked friend and also agreed "superb book idea [ you have set up for me as only a woman would be allowed to publish it]" Ive no quarter any more with the peoples pleasers even if she was the greatest of all 'case studies' into why I am 100% certain her River Arrow will never ever even have a charitable status group working in harmony and solidarity PERMANENTLY to protect it...even if theres a deliberate  little trick in the last - all charities  in UK are self seving conjobs...

And anyway if all many hundred thousand combined their back office your 'giving' may actually go to whom intended rather than hundreds of thousands of unique atomised accounts with their own pet accountant ..wasting your money too...

Anyway even if another day/ volume.. one day... the BS these  people speak - their acidic obsession with biting off the crotums themselves of the trans ewhatever merely as they cant deal with getting old....interestingly.

 (no not her she's just a  child who has nothing wrong with her as i have said so many times in 17 years with the victim Olympics endlessly broadcast: "funny that... i was a professional and big boy however i was so disabled i couldnt string two sentences together in public until i was forced to, or else,  about age 41..."

all these labelled disabled even the 10 year olds on the wireless going on about their terrible disadvantages due something wrong....  are SO SUPREMELY CONFIDENT in public..i mean in a different solar system than i could ever have imagined being as a 'normal' person....yet must demand they are disabled... funny old world

but esteem....my what a masterclass one day as it's a bit embarrassing.. ...and quietly for me to mull over... and know that in some other era of life 'twould have made me all maudlin...

Nope MAd MAx on the horizon, maybe they wake up....  hmm a bird in the bush or is it hand is better than one over the borderline far too long a drive away.

Now please note i hardly ever hashtag - as they are ugly and the poor Former Sovs rather than TELL THEIR SO INTETESTING TRUTHS..about their cultures we never knew about (which would give themntoo REAl esteem rather than be some Gweek landlords pet...) .. think that chucking hashtags all over is authentic..nope... i only have my meanie video nasties.. thats my reader/viewers...already here.

 and I do not seek outsiders... 

but there are SO many little far more funclips missed out and ten notebooks still to photo and add in..

soon

yes esteem....

THE most interesting silence ever is taking place today of course that's her trick...her 'control'.... 

and this i know she knows it hurts more than a straightforward nope, already taken...

But i already have esteem in the can. for one day...the real version.

lexique partagé. Et les informations...

At the atchin tans... with real travellers. 

And none of that  " you can't even think of saying that ...."  nonsense....

 in such a gorgeous summer of quite a few Europeans... 

and what was interesting was our several hour muttering so wonderfully about all sorts.... in a way no India/na Jones would even understand how to any more...

The Art of travel, not to show off but to merely BE

elsewhere. And there is hope when they still can.

righty ho we have some catching up to do..... 

The fall.

righty ho... new 'system' is now clicking in  for the meanie nasties...

This...inspired by such a truly lovely baby encounter out of the blue, has been improved and added to 

https://www.ralphschism.com/p/the-pros-of-life-in-live-in-vehicle.html 

UPDATED 7 Oct 2026 - original only audio became part 2. 

A NEW part 1 has been added today.

And then loads in the oily pipeline for your free infotainment, but spite that splendid querulous rejoined, is a one way thing...

I have none i do hope that most MN's hoped for a fall...

I only seem to be able to fall upwards. Which is a bummer as it's not much fun...

a waffle today just for my own notebook - still a bit too getting it all shipshape, to get back to

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1kRf-dBphG7kHRghAf_SLkpl9lBVd4nO6/view?usp=sharing

(subtitled if i were a woman i would be pretty ashamed of the utter bullshit)

refs

The delightful ex private schoolgirl London based network giggling at Bshie's... Jenny Ciding.. 

 https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m0032b3l

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m0032gpd

And the greatest fail and retardation....ever

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m0032gpg

Real 'Space cadets'

Now as waffled  - this one was going to live in "the PROS  of live in vehicle living "  but really it is tri-purpose 

Or it may be part one yet to upload. But i will...now.

12 feb 2021 

As stated  - 'they' but it's never any individual, it is merely a long dull state of their minds, that has a net effect of they "steal your story". Endless assumption endless inability to stop and think what one's very carefully chosen words, mean... for 5+ years.

Now my story is miraculously every day a jolly splendid new dawn. I do miss the sunrise part of it but beggars  - cos of them even if every bit of gibbing such fun in nett effect,  can't be choosers... and that one pic above a sunset. As sunrises were obscured there by a hillock or so..

"Awww it looks so so idyllic up there on the very steep lil' road "

Type into Oggle: 

"road presteigne to spaceguard centre"

and not only does one get the longest route that goes up even asteeper roads to ferk the clutches of those whom arent used to hillock roads...

you even get

Ignore SatNav: The Spaceguard Centre explicitly advises that if you use online maps or a SatNav with their postcode, you should ignore it for the final couple of miles. Instead, stay on the main road approach and follow the specific brown tourist signs pointing to the centre just east of Knighton

now.... any sane purist who likes how human bodies are 'embodied' the real version, knows that using a paper map is FAR more efficient in every conceivable way to their electronics.

Not only as i sometimes use as shortcut language " you wont meet any other aircraft driver [ 18 years]  who handed back their most desired piece of paper almost in the world the Commercial Pilot ticket,  when their lass was born as it is incompatible with her future..." also even more important, even then " and i shall never use GPS for anything ever... as it degrades innate human sense of direction, spatial awareness never mind their stupid satnav still [ that was then, but even in 2026, wont take you to the places you wish to go, knowing how scroffulous 99% of humanity IS - aside from them ] ... and never have"

Never mind some stupid voice made of electrons nagging you so softly so as to distract...maybe just when a rare great new song comes along from her the Tiny(ish) Singer .... 

Who one has to save from...

WAles.

The above picture is actually on the road that for a fair bit of it IS the 'border'.

One should always park on the East side verge... for LEGAL safety.

However who would want to bother if they knew the truth.

So, not only was around that time - '21, the one great park up around and about here  https://maps.app.goo.gl/6HzNHyc1L8jB6hFEA even if i have far more accurate microviews...

Of the human shit left in the middle of the one nice spot overlooking their shithole lil' town of 'death cafe' lanyard clad pimps...(even if the Dungarinees havent quite made it there yet still holding on to the Swestern concash..)

Anyway now this is to be a whole big two chapters, just alongside that lil' hillock road... where around here, far better photos soon , 

https://maps.app.goo.gl/qT6VZ6xa8gEmpHvU7

you can see I am quite sure still a true work of art: quite extraordinary in effect. An area of about 50m square - actually at the highest point of this road, which is many years of black plastic that has merged with the planet...  

Which is not the 'fault' of some fascist farmer, it is the fault of one of the dozens and dozens of performative greens in the valley below - who for decades prance around flouncing their goodiness.... even The Mog...  NOT daring to make sure eco lore is applied, nicely to himtoo...or offering to help him perhaps dig it all up nicely - even "over cake" as it seems thats the only way you get the diggers out for some decades..

 so it doesnt blow across these rare unbuilt in hills....

 

But that's one thing. 

The real 'schism' indeed started around then. 

The Spacies suffering.... so i wouod menander up and ask them if they needed any help scything or in fact as a few i curated around then could be slightly trusted to do...

"i can set up unpaid for you an  EMERGENCY PR TEAM....  save the spaceies... get a bit more footfall for modest donation....  their fine [internationally renowned] work  under threat...  ... " as they had moaned to me face to face - about the only one who would pop in that first 2020 winter  and again '21... "get the leaflets out emergency and make for them new signage as theyre too lazy to do it selves..."

(in fact they had in 2019 a hundred thou or thereabouts  new leaflets printed - still boxed rotting..)

Now that's one thing and the whole region for 20+ years merely worked on ANYthing to get ones personal spot on radio 4chan...

And then tell everyone over cake how worthy one is - the elite ..

But another is something real: to be in discussions with a  rural landsman the only one popped in from time to time to say hi (having delighted in their science talks with lass late 00s)  parked up around..

THEM bleating their wood is rotting.. 

loose 'contract' - word is bond,  agreed.....  

but theyre a bit tricky to get on the blower and then (having a vehicle breakdown )  over a while emailing and leaving voicemails " continuing form our chats..i could do this then at the extremely low price of  way below minimum wage...in fact i love it there so much would do it just to park at end of your entirely unused large drive up in those hills... in fact its through  neighbouring farmland wont be an issue...i vaguely know the farmer too.."

So...you give ANYone a few weeks to catch up with their messages emails and all that.... but there does come a point when one says to onesself quietly:

"no ferkin' manners anywhere any more...even these scientific  publicity whores ..locally living like me for decades.... no longer have the decency to get back to the only person around and about who's said as he loves their work, and science... count me in for some mutual ben - me  scything down the brambles that you are too neurotic to pull out with sturdy gloves on or even scythe....  as you are in such fiscal defecit....black hole... and Wales Tourist Board couldnt give a ferk about you as youse English..." ...

Anyway the above is fully pictured videod / recorded.... as the moment one realised that twenty five years in their fake themepark of fake bohemians (down the valley)  and a few fake 'community' minded leaders... mainly the big fat one who died a year ago... having just turned to 'god' having for 40 years wrote punky songs about such wank....

was all a complete and utter fraud scam fake ..... however -  fun 'content',  but not stupid 'creator' content meaning bimbos ( of both sexes  - aa word originally coined for chaps in fact) with cameras vans and nothing to say... for a bit of Montaignian pamphleteering...

which should be tomes and tomes of reflections... or seditious Lord of The Flies tribute rewrites...

as thats all it ever was!  - obviously metaphorically as the adults of themeparkery Marches, merely copied  those lost mad lads in that great allegory... for NOW (And themtoo) 

Except unless i am super super efficient and assisted even will merely have to be edited highlights...but the 'editing' may have to be chucked in the bin along with their manners. 

As really in 25 years the ONE couple whom one had assumed may mean what they say and have some manners left between them.... being neither. 

Merely set me off for good

into space

the real one

Swestershire merely the 'source' of their inhumanity

indeed acedie... favoured spelling acedia...ahhhh...

I needed to know as if i had found my own Hubble left to rust down here .... and used it to give great insight.. merely to look through the correct lense of why that happened THERE...a formerly 'safe space' (thirty three years ago i ran away to, to escape the flaky... who were breeding in the South East like parasitically infected (over the safe symbiotic norm) ... vampires of ones time and energy

And we KNEW then.. that there is NO way they could find their way to safer spaces beyond their commuter belt (that ended around Cheltenham - incidentally weird sick hooker central and i am sure it still is) 

... just knowing WHAT happened the real versionwhich ALWAYS is the  one great therapy  - key to a peaceful sun shining brightly every day at the centre of their wonky solar system even if one never needed it.

to be cont....now there just itzy witzy small possibility, MAY be a songwriter  - A real ONE, A BULLETPROOF VIOLENT SUPER BRIGHT EYED ONE in tow..or at least wandering the hills... a deux. Just once. 

So, after all that.. five years of road testing all sorts, the Yank product..

 

 was top of the pops.

 In the  'course of miracles...' IT is time to nuke as it nuked even her Madam Choochoo supposedly of the 'land'...

The tyre repair worked. A real miracle and most necessary...

even if that particular course of action or inaction, caused the (verified, by triangulation all around her Soth Eastern Yankee territory)

her with her big whistle,  to fail to mean it even in 2020 she wanted a homesteader over that side of the pond, to homestead with her..

But then as she told me, " the jumpers..i am the record holder for the whole of Yankland South East region from Chicago to The Keys... sixty seven ...  god my first had me actually traumatised for weeks the feeling of the smallest hump...on the rails as i mashed him up.... nowadays i am inured... but many can't take it ... they crack"  liar...

Going to a fake god merely screws up the homestead to be...

But the realest miracle layered upon  a load of very fey ones, is that Yankee land really really is excelling itself of late. 

The public facin' super babe  - THE role model.... as stated " you're the only one on the PLANET i would wish my lass to listen to"  actually answered her inbox (god how embarrassing the typos as usual)

Indeed the only one who couldn't be bothered with the Madman across The water. And if only the fey retards of the BBC had it on loop since 2016 maybe someone would have learned something, real..

That only great culture can snuff out the golfer.

Now.... even if EVERY electron has now been obtained, curated and repurposed, for my meanie-nasties...

You'll all forever be lost as nearly had i.... givin' muzac lessons to (it's perfect the way we have a twofer, her song.... and the one that makes me laugh.... and defines her geolocation, The Source, home of "ohh my soul"  - she doesn't 'socialise' within. 

I mean how thick can IT be! The one song that has "ohh my soul in it rather repetatively... " 

it takes an hour for me to refind it... all AI wants to do is feel sorry for itself with that dreadful moaning fake one  someone save my life tonight  filling up your Oggle search  - all the responses...
And if one asked it show me one with Elton in his dungarees as harbinger of latterday Hell where no ones sould could conceivably saved...

It sure aint gonna know that it's her town (the Source) or why....even if THE ROLE MODEL (to be abbreviated to as theres only one TRM) does... too.

anyway now i don't need savin' when I became king of the last place i ever expected to even be able to tolerate...

But above all, the real actual miracle, is.....  a muso with a bit of realness inner-tube.....

Is helping! 

And now the last chapter i had no idea could possibly exist, does. Indeed IS.  

And all i care about is whackjobbing (does it still make her laugh?) this rather inadequate fake people pleasing ponce off his perch

As he is just, simply, wrong. As can in time be proven via philosophical big words that FAtty McG would choke on they are so simple...

Anyway  now how do i nett this one into the last turn of the fisherman's  spinning reel.... ?

With or without her dungarees...

as at least one is honest, in her most profound lacuna,  about exactly what she dreams of...even if only in a song.

Soon.

So, one really dislikes being

frenetic...even if a world expert at making sure one has the TIME...as in what a lovely eve and morning  - and time to be reminded of THE only 'cause' there ever was...

Her planet - that lovely little one.

(THERE IS A PART ONE of the 'inspired audio - made a thoughtful day later..)

 Anyway when one boasts 'reset' time.... one means a PROPPER reset..

or just methodically sorting out all the various muckiness that creeps in five years only on 'the road'...

every second wasted, unless one were to have discovered the real songstress who may be able to never take things personally, and put even that hilarious story into one of her folkjobs..

ferkin FAeries teasing me!

right now... 

As i knew a decade ago every second needs to be saved - eg parking up right next to the bigjob mast saves battery....when you have had three big fat chronicles to save...

and a load more this and that to stick

up

just for fun..

even if i think the songbabe...does get it...and today the nuclear option has been deployed. I know what collective action is needed...

And she sang it so perfectly...

Now.... it is at last appropriate to use the evil Echeartless non word (Yugoslavia COULD be saved)

 especially as fatty McGilch had nothing to say...

other than big fat words nobody knows...

to ensure his whisky bill gets paid....

Having i think as fairly often the case shared with a fine mind just "one story can you never know when assisterate you never know whom.... 

For the Love of a son...

 really was very very nasty ...to mum... 

though not his fault. (parental alienation, Stockholm+ version

by fathead even ragged one who likely couldnt be bothered to stick one on

too busy endlessly trying to mentally destroy the other un

a parent just once,  maybe, cocreatin' once in 'love' 

  always leads to mental inversion...fact, life

 the truly fine brave Maryam (we flurried some years ago but i guess the yoga ripped out the great superb mind she had when she took it up as a business in Yankeeland, after surviving the worst ever shame...

and sharing it with the world for all to spit

all that matters is upon one soul, in need of it, you get a DIRECT hit)

Anyway ehh....now the world would never believe,

what she agrees must be put into a folk song...

Something, so absurdly 'romantic' whatever the hell that means.

So ridiculously ferk-off-Bob yer an amateur....

And even if only on 'paper' and likely will stay that way

forever and aday

My my that paper's about to spontaneously ignite

(the ultimate violent  helpmeeting fight.... is not about punches, its about pretending to turn them on

yourself.... 

and only now have i had the space and time to dial back to her spatterin'

In the Uttermost place on the hellish earth

Its the way she sang just one word....

"then" ... i have never heard such up front GLEE

err on err shore......plannin to not even waste time sirening to him that fine 'captain' out there lost at see....

for long...

with her sexy fuck-me song

Nope... lets get right down to it.... ave 'im  me kidnap ..

then sing em into taking a nap..

and filch ALL their booty, 

silver gold and all the rest of their fruity

 hold-haul, ... just lil' sweet singstress, me....

 Ferk me at least with this un she has her cards on the table 

at first time.... round it

And i got fee chips....

nice posh ones too

But as Fatty Mc tells us "nuance is no more"

sorry,  i am gonna, using  his smelly both brains 

bad learnings,  wipe the floor....

with the miust nuanced opening word in history,

of what the Queen of brutal folkiness, she loves to spit out articulating well

exactly what kind of hell.....

comes with her dark version of that nice sweet floral dancy

nonsense....

ohh i never leave on autoplay

why is it on today

cos poor Stevie would have remained ten times sexier had she remained cleanin' lady

and as for pretence at being a vampy viper stealin your designer boxers to strangle your most beloved ferrit on the way out...

Sorry.. Miss KNicks...an ametuer...at expression

compared to.....

but why does she keep so quickly blue tickin and silly laugh out loud smiley sign back....

she's been told!

Even where the copyright will be for the most romantic ever whackjob song in history

 we have cowritten without realising it....

And ferk the (ahh i have figured now why Tito really was dodgy as hell a week ago but i have a backlog - hint, interrogating a  REAL pukka-Ruski not one of these fakes aside, pretending to suck up  - scaredy cats of Stalins TANX.... former soviet 'satelites',  on 'love' ferk me i opened up a torrent of poetical response that would have scarred even them fine Vogons away....

A Russian, on 'love' is  a sight big pharama needs to guarantee the last sane one is driven to blow a fuse..

not metoo as i said love means you are yes "bulletproof"

So, I am on full time duty for months, only for you ungrateful vampires...

but a Ruskie on 'luv' takes the biscuit i had no idea existed...

and yes Tito a meanie twat clearly not to have allowed the real version of it into the Yugoslav manifesto.

obviously just like Charles Eisentein he didnt want all his loving dsiciplesses to get any ideas..of just how inadequately he was educating his people....

in case they got ideas.... about him, being inadequate, too.... ) 

Anyway..... I had no idea the only war there ever was, could write itself immediately into a song, that even she who sings and dances em... knows is better than the dull old folky stuff they copy...

And the violence has been dealt with in a way that i know is unique

As does she.

Really it all now comes down to only one thing: will she take 'daddy's' advice... and run back to him up his fascist Welsh mountain, now.... before Mad Max closes the roads as he starts to get thirsty and peckish...

Given as clear as day in writing ...

Anyway already she has beaten that fake Stevie in real vampirism in a song....

Never mind Homer's really rather amateur sirens....

And at least she is grown up enough to know there is a splendid  real commentary upon the madness of the one maddest thing the Faeries never help you with..

And it will be written into that bottle as message at the very least.

Gobbledygook over soon for sure I am bored of none of them ever ever doing what they say they will...even if between the lines saying the opposite...

 

I mean all you want is a coworker in cleaning lady he-,man operation as all the ladies who buy up the land are so terrified of men  they would rather go performative lezzy  than get a bloke to even chop a leaning tree down...

  And i accept that......and attempt to find solutions. Two tangoing  at their chainsaws in tandem - his and hers..... it makes it a lovely 'safe space' for them to 'hold'....  

"catastrophisation" ...

 or however you spell it if it's even a  word....

... all noncey nonsense in that the real catastrophe has always for fifty plus years been drip drip drip....

Essentially the same amount of worldwide military Industrial not-very-complex baddies behind the scenes - even if like Asma Al-Asad who was probably at St Trinnians with the one she later on employed as delightful hubby's public relations firm  to hide his delightful mass holocuastinga  few hundred thousand....

with their need to arms sale. Britolite ones far more hidden away as middle man than any latter day awful journalist may pinpoint ..(but Pilger so supremely did) .... half of them lusting after a nice quiet houseboat these days form where to do their arms and doubtless these days drone, broking... as quietly as possible...

(my lovely honest sweet ex accountant  from Horrorford who had set up his own lil' laptop-class home based operation  i linked up with for a cuppa in about 2010 said to me " i do ok now in fact much better than in the old days as the quiet money has come into The Marches.... " meaning that baddie cash which doesnt want to be noticed too much -  let the kids have a stupid antique landrover, to show off in the square at HAy-on-wye..  a bit of ket cash and a BUPA subs for when theyve done in their bladder for life and need to have better quality anti rust primer  Kramp red oxide the best the farmers say -when their bladders leak into the footwells of said Hooray Henry showoff vehicles... along with their tears as i don't believe that even the Hooray Henriettas who invaded the formerly safe aside lands, do believe in the bullshit that comes out of their mouths... but all is otherwise well hidden away with our ex military-industrial, not very complex, same ole death loot...)

ehhm yes... drip drip.... but as us sane ones knew even fifty years ago.... 0615 on the not very new news  .. your make up! (which of course includes Tim Curry;'s eyeshadow so the boys arent immune either and also their bathroom product addiction thats simply reached catastrophic ridiculous levels..)

may be adding to the  ' hormonal'* disruptions....which... are giving you  - or allowing such a  slow systems dysfunction,  giving you all cancer ...

and as being Only right brain and 99% leftie too long ago rational science was obvious on every single lil' bit of xenobiotic you spill into nature including sticking pesticide powedered bits up yer fanny

is gonna fuck some of it and someone...

* = as a 100% 'right brainer' to quote fatty McGilchrist i tried to stay awake listening to his latest catastrophisation...but i cant

as i am

(which means READ BOOKS ...ones with emotion like Silas or even HArdy's poetry  but also loving how Gabriel OAk 

first spoke to BAthesheba was it at the bridge

well, he has been overtaken by the most 'romantic'   

pair, of bridgey builder material ever in history

(as She the songstress does know... and plays her part in

but WHY!? .. she's 'taken' or at least has had the sale-or-return becoupling

and listen to emotional fake folksongs...

 - i wonder if she is sturdy enough to have had even her stupid hills whackjobbed out of her

yesters " here look a picture of your fake hills" 

" yea...you can sing 'n dance songs about em but even you wont come for a jolly good walk in them to tighten up your fine bouncy arse a bit more... fake"

and we WILL be writing at least a  folk song, sort of together,  ... to put in a  bottle she liked that idea.... but shetoo

 will likely never follow through

stuck....

but at least likes my verses thus far 

regarding that forever age old, ruck

battle to the death for her trough

even if provisionally plighted

anyway stupid awful pretentious man

just try and figure the actual meaning of a Bobsong and why he was such a  fake, no right brain or left brain could ever figure, never mind the nobrain in their machines...

anyway drip drip drip..... now its really gonna get you...and  my left brain rationally knows that the science that both brains read long ago wasnt adequate and was too showoff... 'INTUITION' a big word for its bloody emotionally obvious....  buts and bobs that never belonged anywhere near the human or any other creature in the first place, as one was never evolved to BE around them phenotypically, ... are gonna have some negative effect.... you dont need any fancy book to emote that obvious fact of all life everywhere... )

 

So... the whole point is...

 Not 'magical' thinking' even if at last a few weeks ago i stumbled across an elderly  fan of Gabriel Garcia  here in the hillocks...  she from his muvvaland and  she alone does indeed get the whole thing of 'living in the moment' that really only Gabriel managed to get down propper..

yeah live IN it, but still have her as final objective....  and he got her into his big riverborne campervan at the end..of it.. the true magical nutjob tract. The most absurdist optimistic road trip of them all... with a happy ending. 

As Columbians know, Love in The Time.. far more thrilling and real

 (we discussed the usfulness of the widow sortin' out the Flozz - its what widows are FOR! using all that death pain The Widow  Naz havin' lost her love .... and passing it on  - her existential death angst,  for the benefit poor young virginal man's MUTUAL benefit...as the MEDICINE hetoo needed....as a fine mother knew and thus bridged the Naz into the spare bedroom, to sort out her lovelorn lad.... thats propper parenting! ) than Time Out approved, dreary and pious,  Hundred years...

Anyway 'inspired' by a fabulous young van-borne philosopher (i can give no higher a compliment than the 'p' word..)

it is time or was yesteraft to call out the terrible parasitism that #vanlife 'creators' use as their grift... that has really done so much damage to the female psyches of those rightly pondering get the ferk away from the psychos...

https://www.ralphschism.com/p/the-pros-of-life-in-live-in-vehicle.html

Now.... oops then but i bet even moreso now

 The offices.

Many.....' hot desking'.

And listening  to the ( as one would say in the 80s, though i never read it) News of The Screws...

The often quite interesting radio 4 chan program Sunday, on the cash and power behind the various nutjub organised religions 

Stourton's rather good dour delivery missed ... him popping his clogs this year

But today another frankly ....

ehh no disrespect to the victims....i rescued one 2013..it took nearly a year of hard work.. her lost to the ' cult' to quote the CPS, of  happy clappy evangelical nutjobbery     that overwhelmed even Horrorfordshire...

This  latest badboy  in his frock, doin' em bigtime for their cash, too...especially....

Now, literally this second

 Or five minutes ago..

As long as I can still do that....

And ... the funny thing, a perfect 45 minutes afternoon nap, in the perfect unseen place.... it even bolsters one beyond the ultimate rule .... of don't even think for five seconds of anyone younger  than the golden age of maturity, being of much use to anyone ....

And awakening to ' the first book' on the wireless... a reminder, of the obsession so long held... which is still the problem.

To be vont

But....

 I do hope all the several thousand meanies just know for one hundred percent sure that there is no way on earth any true ultra-bounce, beauty never mind one with the greatest ever backbone, armed with a whackjob  with which to metre out great violence- even if not dancy-deft enough not to break it...

Couldn't imagine that she may have been playing with me....

And jousting, upon a welsh mountain hilltop, for...

I know not what, yet

But she's been adding in too,

musically, 

i know  not why...

but i do know: " luv....you can sing all the folk songs about the baddies you want

and so beautifully....spattering me with the cost of your art

but i bet you daren't write one about the reality...

even you the ultimate cleanin' lady....

just wipin' the arse spatter of the tourist rather than come and 'elp a landman

dig  the land you sorrowfully songstress,  lament is lost

well one of us will 'ave my trench as grave

.....  but not the way Lorna went...... from indeed the dance, and you bloody started it!

and as for you supposedly fasted-hand.... that's a sale-or-return

see if she lives up to the advert version

uncommitted only half the way.

As we riffed... that eve at dusk.... over there someone long ago he made it clear

it was me or nuthin... 

not even life but i'm NOT a cynic i know he aimed to not shoot the new wife

it was a ferkin aiming error

poor thing i bet she  died of terror!

he meant to get him...his rival for the most beautiful of them all

even if all guns should be decommissioned as soon as possible and i will have to borrow a shotgun, and some blanks....

what are you doing... temptressing me?

i thought you're pledgy-troughed

 even if, thanks

you proved i am still very much alive"

So, how does one even begin to entitle - that's the real version of just stickin' a label on

 a bit of a new start....

Having.....  well the observant may have seen a lil' note a month or so ago..

' hmm.... odysseys are such rediculous fun, 

and when eroto-homo plasticated Nolan 

goes and remakes it into the worst uncluture in history

 well, he just don't get odysssian gonzo ferkit therapy

works.

When they all are drowning in their swamps of control

(maybe 'cept her.... we shall see one day, but to be in the Odd essay

you gotta earn it with at least, a nice cup of Yogi tea

the the bossy lil' controlin' label torn off as that's when IT began,....)

Now....so new phase

ergonomically efficient method

acting new system..

nearly in place.

But of course letting go means what do i care about seeming a nutjob

as ... well... you didnt meet who i met laster dusk...

such a  rediculously smiley lil' smiler...

And smiley mum...

maybe on the run.

At The Atch... ("its gyppo for stopping place, stop, breathe....smile.. all the fascists on your tail, 

so lets sit and figure what is your tale)

But back to yesteraft

Maybe she is old enough to discern?

"So never mind Page turnoff James

Did you sit on his knee?

I always think of it as made in your garden shed, just down the road from us

sorry farm, barn

well... are you old enough now...

never mind ina  state of Independence,

to ask the cunt if he had given up his badger baitin' habit by then

just to 'fit in' belong

with those awful stone age 'men'

no rumour of backstab

in twenty twenty year of our Lord above

heaven, i even had time to ask his 'motorised lump of lard'

tour manager buzzin around my old yard

into my recorder chroniclin' device...

"soo ehhh.. your Stevie, maybe he could help on a local badger Holocaust, 

those Mucky Currachs down the church, and [aristo]Harley adjacent

not quite so nice

as their painted on concentration camp guard smiles

pretend.....  Jcb burried alive a whole megga set

somewhere not too far from here....maybe he could help me with at least a symbolic song"

" ehh....well... perraps not... moving  out here...

well ... lets just say he was on the other side of that equation...

needed to fit in with the lads down the pub..... 

a few pints and off to show off their concentration

as to who can terrorise the most brocks, in their  ancient habitation"

but we shall come back to that another day

This day, there is new work to do..

the ultimate legal case, for the ultimate splendid ... 

fine van ..babes in the woods.

'now' is becoming or HAs become a weird out of the blue, problem

 the problem as always the 'language'

wow it came back! so i was bobbing around as usual full bounce saving your  blog for you in the cheap seats,  with some rare intense communications on the go, too....which never happens, and just like that Ms FAery goes and gives me a better line!

And i forgot to write it down.... when New York called... and what a truly wonderful talk with an old neighbour..

" so....you sold out thats what new york as caller id means babe....  so... ehh... your step monster ... let me tell you about the night she, with her antique leather boots - she the first of them Sybs who invaded the once safe MArcher Hills....you were BORN up the Estianddad hills Craswall blck mountains  we living in the second highest run down old farm...

wow we MUST be loyal...pure loytalty real hill peeps know what that means.... before Mister Junky set himself up up in the highest inherited farm above mine rented  and  yours next one 2 km below....

" and his parties attracted the drug squad who would keep us up at night as they circled by chopper like ferkin vietnam...

anyway the step... the night she came and offered herself to me even if lonely and unfulfilled all those years ago there.... 

and it was a shock as i didnt have any faux bohemiana about me....

I couldnt...

not only because she was a married woman.... 

now... you've grown up... THE BOOK ...the real one...of that 100% fake society...needs writing...

and i got the notes...."

Now...oops OWW!

just thinking of his unletgoness hurts even if nothing hurts me 

A new free, no Tolles, here, ultra  proven to be true bit of waffle on 'letting go'.... 

 https://www.ralphschism.com/p/letting-go-free-user-guide-for-load-of.html

however i am the ultimate absurdist in that there are as usual other threads woven in....such as how the vandals of Oggle are (randomly nothing to do with free speech)  vandalising this big million word splurge.... soon. 

Almost all i care about.... and yet..

And probably nobody will tolerate the fabulous free version of all that which for twenty years the Tolles and all the rest merely copying alcoholic Alan Watts so unletgo he couldnt let go of the bottle that killed him... so you wont hear the latest stories.... (within) one a fabulous yestermorn riff by someone else on 'love'. And i learned something interesting i really admire now...

All Britolites seem to have lost

In their craven desperation to hang on....to everything that matters..not.

(to be cont)

God i hope she wakes up....  imagine: " fuck i had the double dose. my last rites my last thoughts my last big MAc or whatever..... i was gone...  and... ferk is this the afterlife !! ..."

America: even if UK would be even more nasty and gag her speech 100% forever.... if she does will they even allow her to know

 "babe you became one of the most famous babes in the world while you were a gonner....  the world was holding its breath - if fascist mad Farage adjacent nutjob  for your death; if humanist for...ok surely by now she's had enough 'punishment'....  enjoy it...even if we wont ever let you out to even do the tv interview..."

Now that's what you call their dumbed down 'universe' 'aligning'

 At crack of sparrows, on the wireless....

The One ....whom made it all about " I am in control of my death... and demand to be.....!" 

And another   the one person on the planet least in control of her death...

Even if talk about cruelty letting her wait thirty years for it...

.....the one who was given her last injectable, twice so they report....won't die"!
That's Life...

Now..in respect of the former...one has listened for years to the worst rhetoric ever...

That all emanates, drip drip drip.. like a YAnkee injectable, from Mister Curtiss's  Century of the Self..

Where he blames just about everyone else everything else.... other than the next word: control.

" i must be in ...control...." 

Of my own interior design, not only in the new flat but of my fat head...

And even if I am quite sure even the supposedly educated Esther won't have bothered noticing, that, say Tony Judt...well he was locked in a corpse on his death bed for quite a few years... and yet desperately fought via every last wink of his eye - he used to operate a writing machine, the only bit of him left working.... to SPEAK...communicate... teach.... whats what! write up via just that wink his memoirs his learnings..
 The real version... to pass on to the next generation his years of doing the work... and no matter what pain or horrors he lived he wanted every last imaginable second of his life no matter what. When years earlier many would have asked for him to be 'put out of his misery'.

Never mind Monsieur UNtouchable... who wanted to die so badly he employs a hoodlum to not pity him and ideally expedite it..But it doesn't quite work out to his so perfectly controlled, plan...

... to be cont, the real plan to get to just how 'narcissistic'  and Century of ITself obsessed, the environmental movement of the last decade is..using one example. Hay-on-Wye.

In a bit...

Now THE last JOB i want to turn into an art work

 As it is about the art of compromise, even for the useless browsers of the internet, who are so thoughtless they must be bots..

And thus won't even be perturbed by being told how way way low down in the foodchain of people pleasers they are, compared to the Surrey girl who came to live on the River Arrow.....not far from where i used to live....

Cons everyone she  is going to set up an 'environmental organisation' with her inherited cash... a mere half a mil maybe thats what the chip is on her shoulder..?

The Queen people pleasing gibber... ahahh that sounds nasty, well not really as I remain in contact with her, or did...AND her very bestie mate chubby incomer both i met at the same time as they ran away from the SE in 2020... when after thirty years they fall out.. (different auras or chakras or whatever made up excuse for hating themselves is these days)

But a few months ago arose a clever ruse

To have them both working on an important project. A REAL ultimate bridge that various have agreed is groovy - two from opposing sides collaborating to create a book about a tragic incident ... this summer on their underwhelming moors...finding some neutral decent joint opinion in writing...even a top PR said "wowser what a great idea.." 

 healing....  or at least philosophical....

But there's one thing you really cannot fix, and that's obviously many years even before she came with the rabble to play country girl ... and never ever put anything 'back' ever..lies deceit bullshit..

one tolerates.. if one day it may make a most fab 'case study'... libel proof as she knows... the complete and utter pandemic of people pleasing which is obviously a neurotic reaction to inadequacy so its to be empathed ... except there's no point as theyre all at war with each other the last 2 or 3 years  who is the Queen Empath

rather than EVER DO anything real...to ever actually augment any real issue in the non towny regions..

i know i have the chronicle..

Rachel cusk i think began to question the rural (majority) in her first few books i loved em... and she concluded, hmm a bit wonky but i cant really say why

thing is it got SO much more interesting..far more so than sill cities..

And nobody ever tells the actual truth of it all..i call that very Orwell and co

anyway back to her... really its not changed since feudal times at all even the swishy 4wd Misteress of HER own Lil' Universe...

Its all based only on jealousy.... secretly lusting after a bigger castle... while pretending their 'energy healing' works..

or even i bet in her case money launderer... as i jokingly said so many times just to survive the way they are one and all so so boring, and predictable...every single one

 but no more there's no point - not one of them even when a few weeks ago says FAB ..  "and i know the book world.." 

ever ever means what she says

Why the rural lands died a long time ago....

And the only hope was ever (hence Mister Schism four years back) forgetting they ever existed and attempting to roll out the chronicles..of them... far far more interesting than even the greatest book of them feudal times... Mister Stendhal and his Scarlet and Black...  exactly fist equal with georgie and her silas... both remarkably similar deep down.. 

just about pride

and being stuck in the stone age

or pre dark ages really when i'm sure they couldnt collaborate either

so all that really matters is the jobs

 

and fixing gets done no matter what

and as for on the cliff edge therapy a skip of books about to be chucked in the ocean

( they do that in the provinces as all the fey schoolteachers even 20 years ago as was well known so wussy risk aversey ....no To Sir With Love in one of them!! failed to teach their kids to fight  

ooh it is fun listening to trenching radio   . keep One connected... and listening to the fine Frenchie yoof   

yes they taught the rural youth to feel special slash entitled  to plenishystuff when decades back Horrorfordshire became about whose dad sold a wrecked  barn ( they were too lazy to maintain)  to a yuppie for a million and might get him a GTi or whatever they have now   

to get really nasty to the more  fluffy  lit who are in their way  and overtake blind bends thus increasing the death rate of said teens way above the mean...

cos they feel meantoo....

especially about book ' learning'.. 

as one so often merely sighed at...

.

ahahh but the most enjoyable fix...next

cures any ' stress' or worry . 

So, what you have to DO...

 to save the films to save the many thousand read or browse material

all very plenishy ....eventually

even for you

or you must be mad to return. By the thousand

THE hardest of all rural jobs

real trenching, deep and mucky

is how you make the best beds for next year

and yet half of them come in and think pilates is the only way to sweat... of course you can do it in a nice group of the same too scared to go out and find out iof their elderly neighbour needs a dig over perhaps..

as one has seen for years

once those bijou cottage ulgrades began

" be the change..." they all say..i have yet to meet one who recharges their batteries NO matter what.... or they may pretend, until their yurts run out or Prozac...

 

nor does one ever find ANY parent attempts to make their kids keep reading, no matter what

even paying them to is better than the alternative

and i can't even find the time yet to find the pictures among many thousand of the library in all its glory ....1000 ish books collected over the years... even when ... dot dot dot

https://www.simonclayton2020.com/2026/09/appeal-estis-library-i-must-rescue.html

Those Oracles...

 

So every spiv Oracle Girl, Charles Eisenstein,  never mind awful 'therapists' either invaded the Swetsern Lands, or if they couldn't afford thirty grand plus, an acre, to put their yurts up on and attract the Party crowd from Snotty Hill, when they get bored... ended up in The Marches (where they also guzzled pukka proper London cocaine at Christmas from 2007 or 8ish..the dealers - errata great mates from back home,  need time out, too....) 

Thing is all of them not one with their endless 'work on tghis and that and whatever voodoo ever speak of the actual PURPOSE of their therapies or what the not...

para one of quite a few 

which all trickles down into a range of recent pages and collections

I know work...

https://www.simonclayton2020.com/2026/08/the-opposite-of-emotional-cripplegate.html

https://www.simonclayton2020.com/2026/09/now-sunday-morning-and-her-eyes-dont.html

and all sorts that riff back to 

https://www.simonclayton2020.com/p/the-wound.html

as i know exactly the universal rules one discovers by living them, of how to actually evolve ...even if its slow.

But until i get the libary saved

https://www.simonclayton2020.com/2026/09/appeal-estis-library-i-must-rescue.html

 and back on the road....so small a thing in fact as I've never had such a contented year just seeing what does emerge as really worth sharing...and just how much iof a pickle so many are in...

time wasting

Is a GREAT purpose i did know was THE purpose 5 years ago...

And if it can't be...nothing 'comes up' that's not how the faeries work, the one greatest reward is you know exactly why the whole of society went brittle, and un-cooperative (even the farmers realised they must share plooghs to stay alive the last 5ish years) 

Cos yer all deep down Maggie fans...

Even if pretending to be all Pandy and cuddly

Exactly the same as America....you all slag off,  what a dull life..

Which will always stay dull as i know as it cracks which it will.. Trump wont be favouring UK in the diesel rationing out...

I shall not even bristle with any emotion, as i know what the tricks are...

Having been forced to live them several decades.. 

now.. infantilising, is the actual word for 'charity' whereas teamwork and solidarity to just for example work on how one politics against an unaffordable housing regime..is really adult.

this

https://www.ralphschism.com/2026/09/charity.html

will one day merge with this new page...

https://www.ralphschism.com/p/the-greatest-reset-will-be-art-too-some.html

all i know is if the next generation dont learn from our ;'struggles' - the real version, theyve really no hope

As almost all is universal and unchanged since feudal times,,,

except the planet has run out of clean bits for the creatures to thrive... 

even NAomi figured that 20 years ago and i adore it that i have a splendid chronicle of how no body listened even if they may have paid twenty quid to be SEEN hearing her speak at some 'festival'  - or isn't she as sexy as Yannis who of course got his slot at HAy Festival...

As that's always what it has been for 200+ years "for The English to see...". so said those fine Portuguese..

'CHARITY'

phew done even if 'with errors'

how....ever... two birds one stone

 

So...charity - i have a great big essay on this brewing a long time

A decade ago or more it was obvious that every fake charity in the world wanted to set up in The MArches - far enough away from the inspectors...

so i have loads of chronicling that...

But where it matters is the environment - i am sure there are at least three or four different separate megalomaniacs with their OWN lil' charity just for one poor river, The wye...

And then as in Nairobi about 100 charities per square foot of their slums...

And i never realised that the dream of every middle class escapee from L'Oreal land is to set up a charity..

each withs eperate back office, each with own accountant ... each with own fancy furniture if they get as big and fat as CAmilla BAtty Gellish..

when the environment would be grateful and doff its cap if there were just ONE big one that did its job properly...

rather than literally thousands now...

all of which usually fold within a few years when Camilla and Rupert have a baby or get their adhd 'diagnosis' or Camilla doesn't like Rupert getting angry at all the things he has to fix...

However.. the REAL parables are yet to come...

And we have a whole world of Sam Harris and them tech bros 'conscious giving' or whatever their buzzword is...

Here is a great example of how charity is worse than a waste of time unless very specifically talked through and quid-pro quod..

a roofless person especially in the meanest county in Christendom - PAsty land.. with about 20 old hard drives (lots of film soon - i shall turn it into parables) that need double backing up... 

a long long obvious issue..

BUt what sort of person does not THINK before sending out a lil' aid parcel... this one all 6tb... great idea..makes the donor feel great... except 18 mths no good to me as just saving 100gb takes an hour plugged in...

and that's not feasable never mind the dozens of hours to do full salvage of old splendid tell-tale,  imagery......

 

you need a fixer on hand a week frantic i didnt realise my shirt entirely giving up

of course this also Segways in...it is EXTRAORDINARY nobody has even written an article about how as the Central europeans decided from 2016ish their future not quite so rosy - so so many AMERICAM evangelical or semi-bongobongo religious organisations bought up almost any old church no longer in use in The MArches (i guess they got 'golden' visas..)  and installed their ultra sexist chauvinistic women degrading religions all over!... 

I do not mean Islam i mean the other Abrahamics..

so many!

And many chats with many all confirm a woman is a second class article, usually not even allowed into the meetings to decide who gets the job redecorating their new bongo bongo spiritual churches..

All so sweetly YAnk...

why USA of course hasn't ever had a woman as MAggie....

who are all incidentally VERY Ayn Rand adjacent which is the exact opposite of their bibles i know well enough....

which say do good works - real ones... down ear first...

nope they all fake that i know as i have many hours on themtoo..

But what galls is i am quite sure enlightenment writers from Kant to whoever else even Dickens managed to explain that charity ALWAYS is a corrupting force as there is always patronage and patronage means mates rates..

or someone always gets excluded... or the giver's ego or especially 'i am saved -  you are not' snotty elitism, gets in the way of his brain....

they used to call that merely smug.

Funny thing is the most present Christian in my life as intellectual equal, couldnt even figure 2103 that telling someone down on their luck or flayed by their random  life... and hardly any work or cash for obviously eythical reasons, could fix their shed roof...

"wow work at last and seemingly good conversation.." a month later he can't even remember his 'offer' which included a walk around the job to be done..

To busy i guess with three million quid church financial affairs rather than even know his own scripture " yet your yea be..." is HOW the countryside used to work...

Theytoo want to live safely aside, there,  away from the madfolk .... they in the main heled create...