Thursday 28 February 2008

The Terrorisation Of Me

‘twas a couple of nights ago I felt hungry and quite fancied some houmous. After checking the fridge to realise I’d run out I trudged to the local Tesco Express over the hill and along the road. As I approached the shops I could see a cohort of teenage boys wearing hoods over their heads and scarves wrapped round their faces. At least three of them were playing music aloud from their mobile phones causing a mish mash of beats and rhythms that could only offend my ears. They seemed to be enjoying three different songs playing at the same time and bobbed their heads out of sync with each other. I walked past them feeling them sneering behind me as I made my way through the double doors. When I entered inside on my left stood a rather weary looking security guard with his arms folded and with a stern gaze, I could tell this look was a front because his eyes looked tired, and they are the things that give away your emotional state. I wondered if he was weary due to his many clashes with the next generation of Blazin’ Squad on the other side of those double doors. I gave him a smile and straight away he dropped his act and a relaxed look came about him. Happy in letting him know not all everyone is a dick in the world I made my way over to the houmous. After deciding on buying roasted pepper instead of lime and coriander flavoured I made my way out.

As I passed the gathering of males I thought I heard a ‘fucking dick.’ I didn’t think much of it, there was five of them and one of me. Even if they were 14-16 year olds they could still probably take me down. I carried on walking nonchalantly when I felt something hit my back. I turned around and saw a muddy tennis ball on the floor. I looked up and saw the gang all looking the other way. A complete admission of guilt in my eyes. I don’t know why, I guess the male testosterone overwhelmed me but I threw it hard and straight back at them. Bang! Right on the side on the head of the tallest. I cracked up slightly but soon realised that I better get ready for a fight as they all came running over.

I expected them to start punching me straight away and I got this strange exciting but also scared feeling in my stomach. Were they going to knife me? Was I going to appear in the next edition of the local newspaper as a victim of yob crime? Yet when arrived they just circled me. I didn’t know who to focus on until one of them pushed me. I knew he was the leader. I pushed him back. As I was awaiting the first cowardly punch to hit me round the back of my head I heard an ‘Oi, stop it!’ Everyone turned around including me to see the weary security guard in full flight charging towards us. The group of teenagers dispersed as soon as they realised who it was. Perhaps they too had battle wounds from the confrontations with him. When he got to me I thanked him for his help and told him that I’d probably have been a bloody mess if he didn’t turn up. He said not to worry and that those boys are nothing but trouble and are constantly abusing customers. I thanked him again and then said my good byes realising that security guards actually do more than stand there trying to look mean or try and chat up attractive till girls.



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And with that Tammy walked off. Charles watched her disappear through the bushes tentatively putting her foot down after every step in case she fell over. He then turned back to see Yannish standing in a forlorn stance. He was expecting him to start shouting abuse at the woman, or maybe even throw stones at her. At least punch a tree or kick the ground. But he doesn’t he just stands there. Silently. He calmly takes a drag from his cigarette and sits down on the ground, his arms holding his legs together. Charles can’t believe that he hasn’t got angry, he showed this woman his secret hiding place and all she does is tell him that she’s going to tell some guy called Alan which will mean it being banned. He can’t but help a sense of awe run through him and a little shame. He knows that if it had been him he’d be hurling abuse at her maybe even threatening her but all this young boy is doing is slowly watching the smoke drift higher and higher from his mouth into the air where it gradually evaporates. A buzzing sound rings in the air, Charles immediately looks to his phone but there’s no movement, he looks up and sees this Yannish boy pulling out his mobile and holding it to his ear.

“Hello Keith, what can I do for you?”

“Yes, it is true, I finished it with Karen today.”

Monday 18 February 2008

Vegemate?

Since the 8 January I decided to stop eating meat for a while. The decision was taken because something made me feel ‘dirty’ about eating it. I don’t know when the feeling started but it has been festering in my head for many months maybe even years. It was never acted on because I love(d) meat. Nothing tasted so succulent than pork chops or a roast chicken, the saliva just starts pouring from my mouth as the image comes into my head. However, something didn’t seem quite right to me. I wasn’t sure where on earth this meat was coming from. Was it Ted the darling farmer from Somerset who was an 8th generation poultry farmer after his great granddad Frank set up the first chicken farm way back in 1882? Or was it the evil multinationals who forced the farmers to produce more and bigger Chickens, Turkeys, Pigs etc. Thus making them use random chemicals to ensure that they could meet the demand made by the supermarkets. Perhaps it’s somewhere in the middle but the idea that the main seller of meat are from entities that don’t really care what you consume as long as you buy from them made me feel uneasy. So why don’t I just buy organic meat, where the animals run free and eat only organic food and generally have a better quality of life than I do? Good point, and one I was about to undertake until I read an article saying primates biological system aren’t used to consuming flesh. So I thought why don’t I find out for myself and abstain from bacon sandwiches for a while.

After a few cravings for sausages during the start I haven’t lusted for a meat dish at all. Quorn dishes seem to be an able substitute, although I find it odd buying a product that is designed to look like a meat one. For example, instead of beef mince there’s Quorn mince and Chicken Dippers are no more, it’s all about the Quorn Dippers. Yet these dishes have enabled me to stay attached to the main stream meat eating society. And as a result I’m genuinely, physically feeling great (this may not be because I’m not eating meat). What I am experiencing is that while I’m harbouring in food’s purgatory state both sides have frowned upon me. Enthusiastic vegetarians have sent me links to sites that tell you exactly what products contain meat, even its remnants. Certain chocolates cannot be consumed along with mints like Altoids. When I said I wasn’t that much of a non meat eater I was told that I wasn’t a vegetarian. Thing is, I’m not. Meat eaters would salivate at the idea of entrapping me as they do when they see a Sunday roast. I have had numerous questions as to why I decided to not eat meat and explained each time that initially it was because I felt that consuming it was almost like eating a chemically filled pus bag. Yet when challenged about eating organic free rage products I then revert to my tale of how I was going down that path but thought, “hey, fuck it. I might as well see if what it’s like without meat for a while.” They all look at me strangely, but I’m not fighting against them. I just want to see what it’s like and currently it feels good. And I’d never call myself a vegetarian after not eating meet for about a month. I’m just some bod who’s gotten into eating olives and tomatoes quite a lot.



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“Yeah, whatever Tammy I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.”

“Are you going on a cigarette break again?”

“Yes I am, and don’t make it sound like I’m trying to weasel breaks out, I’ve been working 5 hours straight so I deserve a fifteen minute break.”

“You know you’re not allowed to smoke anywhere near the garage premises.”

“I’m not going to. There’s this place I go for a ciggy, it’s quite, well it’s quite amazing. Come have a look.”

“Yeah, but what about the garage who’s going to look after that if someone comes?”

“No one has been out in front since you called me out back to help you check over this stock so are you coming to see or not?”

“Ok, I’ll come but I need to be quick in case anyone else comes.”

Charles realising that the two workers were about to come his way looks around to run somewhere. He could continue running along the pathway but he doesn’t know where it leads to. If he falls over he’ll be heard. No, he can’t do that. Instead he looks for bush with the less prickles in and throws his body into it and waits for them to come.

“It’s just through here Tammy, not far.”

“I don’t want to be too long Yannish.”

“So Yannish is his name and hers Tammy” thinks Charles. He realises that he can’t write anything on his mobile as it’ll illuminate.

“Here it is, don’t you think it’s an amazing place? It’s like a completely different world when you see it. I come here for all my fag breaks, it settles me down and helps me think. There’s no better combination than a cigarette and this patch of grass. Look at the stars above.”

“Yes, yes it looks lovely but this area is far too close to the garage to smoke. I’m going to have to alert Alan about this.”

“What? Come on please don’t do this I love this place. Alan, won’t understand he’ll ban it and then contact head office to get it ringed off or something like that. It’ll be a catastrophe. This area means a lot to me, when I’m stuck with a problem or an issue in my head I come here and sit. Look above you and you can see none of the trees encroach allowing someone to look up at the sky and lets the light come through. I make all my major decisions here, I even come here sometimes when I’m not even working. This place helped me out when I broke up with my girlfriend.”

“You better finish your cigarette instead of chatting because I am still going to tell Alan. It’s too dangerous for you to smoke here.”

“It’s at least fifty metres away from the garage.”

“It’s too close.”

“Look, I tell you what. I’ll quit smoking here. I won’t do that again and I’ll clean up all these butts. You can come and check every now and then just to see if there are any butts around. Please, I don’t want Alan to ban this. You know he will.”

“No. Now I expect you back in ten minutes.”

Thursday 14 February 2008

Tales of Epoch Was 1

Just what a 1Xtra DJ would say, “Big up yourself”. Yep, Tales of Epoch was 1 last Wednesday. Seems a long time ago I was persuaded by Coldbrain to start up a blog, and although highly sceptical at first, I’m glad I did. What better way to express your feelings and views than scribbling it down on a blog instead of letting it slowly build up in your head, bit by bit, gripe upon gripe. Until one day when a person at the counter asks if you’d like sugar in your coffee. You shout, “No, I’m not an idiot I can do it myself!” And then thirty seconds later sheepishly go back to her and explain you didn’t know it wasn’t self service and could she put in two spoonfuls worth.

I should have written this last Wednesday but recently I’ve been under the time-management kosh. You see, I’ve enrolled on a Spanish course so I can roll my RRRs and not sound a prat when I’m next in Madrid, trying to wax lyrical the locals after I’ve had a few San Miguel’s. There is a lot of work demanded of me, well from me. I do genuinely want to learn this language and the only way to truly understand it is start digging into the technicalities and linguistics of it all. I’ve spent hours on end reading a grammar book, ever so often I’d bring myself up for air and think, ‘come to think of it, I don’t know much about English grammar’, and for a few moments I just sit there paralysed thinking should I be learning the grammar of another language when I can’t remember my own? What’s past participle again? Eventually, the reasoning element of my mind charges through and says, ‘stop putting things off by thinking you should be learning something else and get back to that book.’ So I delve straight back into learning all about irregular verbs and try and soak it in. And that’s my greatest weakness, I’m not a very good sponge. When I read about grammar and verbs or learn how to spell words I really feel it’s quite easy to get the hang of, at the time. However after a few hours I can’t remember anything I’d learnt. It just seems to fall out of my head and be replaced by trivial information like, ‘I wonder what DVD I’ll buy next’. So to tackle this I’ve started to write key things down in a little book which I bring with me to work, and ever so often I’ll take it out of my bag and give it a quick glance so I don’t forget. It does look like I’m scribbling extensive notes on my colleagues though. Other than that it seems to be going well but the recommended 7 hours a week study is a bit of a fib, it’s more like 10 hours. I hope that I can break into a routine soon so that I can spread my time between studying and loitering around various places and passing it off as socialising.

Here’s something mildly entertaining for you











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“Arghhh” He screams in frustration at the realisation that he doesn’t own his life. He’s got freedom within a room set up by Gregor but if he was ever to want to leave that room, Gregor would be right behind him.

Charles stops besides a brick wall and starts smacking his head against it. The first blow hurts but as he thrusts his head back and crashes it against the brick over again the pain starts to feel satisfying, almost like a counter balance to the anguish of not being free. And even if he is free then the pain of being too much of a coward to actually walk out of the room needs to be dealt with. Finally he smacks against the wall so hard he staggers back a few paces, his head dizzy and the image of Gregor gone. Literally smacked out. He sits down for a moment to rest. He promises himself that this will be his last job for Gregor, he wants to escape him, and he’s willing to take him and Marla to another country to do it, he thinks. The money from this robbery will be enough to help him in any decision he makes but first he must complete his task.

He gets up and wipes away the blood from his forehead, but it keeps pouring from the scrape until he gives up and carries on walking with it gradually trickling all the way down to his lip where his tongue instinctively laps it up. Its salty taste sobers him from the dizziness and he full begins to focus his mind on getting collecting good solid information about the two that work in the garage.

He approaches the garage. At first he considers waiting outside but after some pondering he feels it’s best to go inside and find out any information he can as that’s the main source of it. Charles begins to walk to the garage but just as he approaches the doors he realises that they’ll be shut now and everything will have to be done by the unoccupied shutter window. Cursing himself for not realising early in the evening he pulls out a cap from his pocket and nestles in on his head and begins to walk around the back of the garage. At the back is an old red Vauxhall Nova with sprinkles of rust all over it. Charles retrieves his mobile phone and starts writing out the registration number on his mobile phone and then takes a photo of the car. Just in front of the car is the garage back door which looks locked, Charles has no means to open it with out causing a lot of noise so turns his attention elsewhere. Behind the car are bushes that rise up as the eye continues to look further on and just to the right seems to be a man-made pathway. Charles walks towards the pathway taking a few steps into it as it opens up into a small circle of green littered with cigarette butts. He kneels down to inspect them and notices they are all hand rolled. He notices there are no trees towering over this green patch allowing the sun or moon to pour its light on the area. It is a unique place considering everything around looks so homogenous.

A creaking sound from behind him makes him realise that the back door is opening.

Monday 4 February 2008

River Phoenix

It’s uncomfortable to hear Heath Ledger died. Although I cannot really feel any loss because I wasn’t really aware of his work or the person he was, I’ve seen A Knights Tale and 10 Things I Hate About You. And that’s about it. His death though reminded me of when River Phoenix died, I was but a whimsical teenager then but he was someone I idolised, probably just as Heath is by some people today.

I generally thought he was cool when I saw him in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. He was someone I wanted to be. Upon investigating what comprised me to compact what I meant as ‘cool’ I realised that he possessed a lot of charisma and also seemed to star in some great films like, Stand By Me, The Mosquito Coast and I love You to Death. I used to read Smash Hits avidly to find out what project he was working on next or what he got up to in the Viper Room that week. I concluded that I wanted to live a life like his, unconfined as his profession allowed him to be and also naturalistic in that he was aware of the Earth and its issues. And if possible harvest or discover some amazing talent about myself like his.

I was deeply saddened when I heard he died. A lot of people mourn for Kurt Cobain but to me it was a greater loss to lose the person I wanted to become. I could no longer see how this person would develop and therefore had nothing to aspire too other than remember how charismatic and talented he was. I’ve now passed the age he lived too and I have virtually become nothing of what the teenage boy saw in River Phoenix. I work in business, sitting in front of a computer all day and make a half-hearted attempt to recycle (although I now only buy Fair Trade products whenever possible). I think if he was still alive today he would be on equal status as Jonny Depp in achievement of performances and variation of films featured in. Maybe even more so.

It’s strange when I see his brother Joaquin Phoenix in films too. I remember hearing his voice on the telephone to the 911 operator telling her that he thinks his brother isn’t breathing when he collapsed outside the Viper Room and now I see him in Gladiator and Signs and get a surreal sensation coming over me. It feels intrusive that I’ve heard him in his most scared and desperate moment.

Anyway, enough of my fucked up blabbings. I just felt I should get it out there.

I salute you River.


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“Ok, so that’s it?” Charles asks.

“Yeah, unless you two got any more questions? We meet in two weeks.” And with that Gregor turns his back to them both and turns on the television indicating that this meeting is over.

Charles gets up nods at Davy then walks back to his car thinking where to start his mission. He drives to the garage to take a look at the future victims.

He finds a spot to park his car on Chester Street and gets out. It’s a ten minute walk to the garage and turning up on foot will enable him to manoeuvre with the situation rather than have a car parked in one of the petrol bays attracting attention when someone waiting behind starts beeping the horn. It’s still dark and there’s a slight chill in the air so he zips up his coat and turns up his collar. The moon is only half covered tonight by clouds illuminating the half of the street Charles is walking on. He doesn’t like the light so crosses the road onto the less visible area. He can’t understand why he agreed to do this job. He hates stealing now, he hates, Gregor and what he’s doing right now is helping Gregor achieve his plan. “It’s for the money” he tells himself but the reality gradually seeps through the holes of reason and he knows it’s not because of the money it’s because he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s all he knows he can do, well. The thought of trying something new scares him but he tries to think deeply for something else he can do. Nothing comes up. Only Gregor’s face offering another opportunity to get some quick cash.

He can’t just do anything, Marla wouldn’t allow it. He needs to maintain a healthy income to keep her happy. But there’s no other way, the idea of training himself up to be a plumber appeals to him. Something that is vital to preserving a good standard of living. He could study at college full time and try to gain an apprenticeship, it’ll take years but then he’d be qualified and able to be an effective person in society rather than the one of its demons. The idea gets sucked away as the image of him telling Gregor that he couldn’t work on all the jobs anymore. It wouldn’t be accepted, he would have to continue doing the jobs for Gregor and Gregor would definitely find a way to terminate his plans. The man isn’t stupid he knows that Charles helps him get things done.