The psychology of simplest living, via my stories of many years truly simplest living. Real ones - not earnest or pious.
Ten years a landloper. Time to tell those tales, too.
Ralphschism.com My permanent one home online started 22 feb 2023.
Start at the beginning (first 'post' - click 'older posts' bottom right hand corner ). Themes are developed and then woven together - a series of regular essays. Some in handwriting; some audio/vid.
ONLY peaceful nice content here. 07958 5263eight1
just dull ordinary bit plastic not trendy and certainly not 'approved'
The ONLY 'divide' being 99%, and 100% of 'working class' or Teapot Party, must have a certain look, decorative regime, bodily and the front room, all of it merely shabby bourgeois " Nige we want more MONEY! for our ever more fancy teapots to keep up with them Joneses..."
nobody told them, as their teachers became only ever the 99% too... "some good books - actually even some quite bob along novels, actually take you on the adventure of it all being just cant and vanity and your haircut or tattoo really doesnt ever matter...all just a nervous twitch oops your mum brainwashed to think she can get benefit cash from every single one of themtoo... "
which is why of course one cannot even have a fairly sane balanced grown up conversation with even a working class person - they let themselves become only ever distracted, and blame someone else for ittoo
BUt i have far deeper dives into the tea, soon...already made but pleasant diversions of late
* i have photos from only 6 mths ago of the Palace of walkingwear i never knew!
just how expensive their compulsory kit is even i was shocked...
And only Herbert latterly found it with his magnificent Spella Ho...
a subltle wistful dreamy expose of reality: they all flounce and perform and it never ends well, and they do so easily just end up forgotten
shame nobody told Virginia to write REAL books about the wistful sardonic dont ever take it to heart just see them for what they are lost and a bit loon.... grow up and out of em they just leave dusty old houses behind wasting bedrooms tramps could use...
Even if in this land as soon as you even speak of reading a real book,
Harry and his silly fantasy kingdoms
Never mind talk about a load of millions spent on nothing, except a fine cinematic exposé of whom, especially my own one, was under her fake Laura Ashley hems
I bet more Britolite mums than history ever will relate weretoo..
so says Suzitoo!
Anyway no point even attempting to say to some bloke who is patinated in Eau de Led Zeppelin roadie, " i am actually LOWER class than you matey i was kicked out of extremely [lovely]peasant-school, school, no qualifications, sixteen ... no uni... NO influences nobody reading me bedtime books.... no dinnertime discussions of culture or anything as i never went to family dinners or rarely between nuclear wars ...
Nobody educated me ... except a real education began with old peasant Ralph then a few wonderful real-thing hippy types...but nobody ever told me to read some good books and i had nothing to prove as you survive that bleak orphanage theres only oneself to solve.. then approve of.... and your silly festivals never taught much except to value St Joan de Armourplating as equally as Sir Bob... and that come the 80s some tart with a Biba habit started to profit from what we used to call lovely vegibrgers same price as the beefy ones but nope gotta be some effnic pretend superfood burger even then at double what theyw ere cost of living crisis to pay for more of their Biba or urban guerrila outfits...all festivals became a con especially anywhere near Hay .."
So due the inate prejudice of some stupid 'class' compliant warrior so so so much more bourgeois than i have ever been in any way whatsoever
soon we get to ...it
BUt you cannot even begin tyo understand it without the pure genius (if there was proof of faeries, how on EARTH did he come up with this aged just that)
ohh yes first step your fetid swamp well i meet occasional so special ones...
" chuck away Barnes, Faulks, self indulgent McKewan and ranty performative Amis... they tell you NOTHINg especially of How To Live, merely their dull old man neuroses... WHAT!!!!! they STILL dont teach Bernhard on an Oxford Uni lit course ....sue the buggers for pretending to be in any way modern!!!...as he parodied THEM - academe, so wistful beautifully and of course an English educator cannot tolerate someone far far better than him Don or not...."
As only Bernhard maybe did inherit the boy genius's wonderful insouciance - pure ironic nuanced gentle exasperation, with the greatest ever not-taking-it-to-heart...
perhaps the greatest book of my ohh my they dont all just ponce around with nothing but a ton of cant and vanity between them...
and i am a pacifist
I dont like soldierly stuff but of course his hero was a 'vehicle' for ALL you ever needed to know
and how on earth did he know what he knew, that young, then
I dare not even posit an answer as it may have to include the supernatural
But no stupid British inverse snob with a less one-side accent could ever understand, there are no sides and no divides
only in one simplest aspect do you need bling to be something
or are you something adequate to yourself no bling ever
i know she is
As of course her Camus asked the only question, part 2, having discovered its cant and vanity
do you bother living on, yes; or self-sufficiently-actualising-a-plastic-bag-that-fits-your-head, no...?
indeed i do hope 'home school' included the real version of Watership
as sadly humans are really quite dodgy and need at least some useful parables with all their fuckwittery, inc...
sanitisation never works
nobody told the Greens that
why...only books, work
next
if i remember as being only at the whim of the nonbook lot they endlessly jump around from subject to subject
why nothing ever gets done or GREAT stuff made any more
and a halfdecent book was always the only answer to that....fatal disease
The only thing in many meenadering random chats i rarely infact only twice have said is " i know how to get a Turner" especially apt as no pictorial art ever gets to the heart as i well know
and thus even that would be a Lermontovian wistful why not just live on and wear their uniform for fun
but i can't do it alone i'm not good enough an actor, unless it really matters and even then i shop myself before the real job is done.
As i think only truth
what was her line go backa few days
arriving, is really just being unafraid ever of one word ever from anyone else ... as one knows at least one's-self one has lived a fairly authentic life
as only 'the common good' can ever really be any real answer to anything
Now... all i know is that as a 100% yeoman peasant and lifetime loving every second of it, indeed i am the lucky one - entirely chucking out all the fey everything, nevertheless there have been moments that explain who we really are, and i know its far more universal than all the so called post modernist nonces justify their jobsworth
when its worth nothing unless one knows reasonable real history, which thank god for ONE great filmmaker Mister Roeg https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicolas_Roeg was captured honestly.
Even if typical British sugar addicted inhuman person incapable of maintaing VALUES consistently in that how can one make a beautiful truly universal human film about prejudice and damage to the soul of the vicim of it, never mind body, such as Walkabout and then also accept a CBE from the rather damaging regime...
(has anyone told this generation of maybethoughtfuls, most of the goodies would reject their offered gong even as late as the 90s ?)
Anyway talk about being conned though inadvertently when i had at last my time and space and an internet connection - only 7 ish years ago rural broadband never worked until about then...
Wistfully wondering what 'happened'?
Now even if late 70s and no sane person would ever go to Disney-in-the-mud just a few times io was lucky enough to go and sample the real oldschool alternative culture - or counter culture.
And know exactly what the rules were - 100% respect no matter what, and no staring!!
But bugger me first time i saw her... stumbling across
even though taken off The Tube still just about findable
: "wow if that aint the absolutely perfect pukka gorgeous understated no need for silly tie dye or stupid bangles.... pure perfect hippy woman... god i am so lucky a knew just a few of them.... wow i wonder who she was!? .. i love every awkward nuance about her her completely non-person whole vibe... true humility....
..... as our teen tribal elder Dianna kindof used to be but more real.... ideal.. wow i wish she could be found what was she? who .... probably from some still-slum maybe in some old port-town ... . i can smell the eau de working class chipfat competing with petunia oil in her rarely washed jumper... even now"
years of sometimes dialing in back to the ultimate ideal one
and then one day i had a look at the comments and bugger me
The same woman a year earlier.
250 quid!! what a ...rewriting of history
In that Arabella Churchill did sort of become the better version and remain so.
None of my bis.
Britain even weird in the 70s.
Almost as interesting now her buddy it was also said was Richard Ingrams became pretty good 'anti-establishment' writer
or not really...?
As i am sure they mocked Pilger behind his back, which is the only reason the dynamite continued...
But i am not sure even if i have zero interest in history seems the dates arent right
And anyway they were all irrelevant as there was a time when in fact when as Roeg captured so damn well, a jolly good mix of performative old bags in silly pinstripes and even real British dancers before it went all stupidly tango-looks-better
But then above all.... your vile so called 'divided' can rant all they want but I'm sure not one person ever pondered skin colour when two of the greatest soul singers ever... meet in only perfect 1+1=3
or 5 when Mister Miles is always theretoo
but even more important - the tiktoc version being 'censored'
THE whole point of this one scene that every single schoolchild needs to be MADE to see..infact porn addiction reprogramming ehh what do they call the gay thing i forget ..
NO BODY EVER EVEN NOTICED
nor would one stare at
one of the most cinematically fabulous pair of jugs doin' what nature intended them to do
bounce
potholes
ruts
or whatever
not one even sideways glance or cheeky peek
pure modernity
even if personally i hate boys toys motorbikes
Glastonbury Fayre - Terry Reid feat. Alan White, 1971
Terry Reid
Alan White drums
David Lindley slide
Lee Miles bass
Linda Lewis vocal
all nicely saved by fine Rumanians the yanks banning it - not surprising theyre all so damn touchy ... the land where they never really accepted unpornographic natural naked bodies just as they are
the uncensored unredacted actual bloody history - i saw just a few times too - real history...
i bet this wont last long when the AIs get all neurotic as they pervy crawl around the greatest real culture mistaking it for smut all our kids will ever know at this rate
despite my most ' role model' in-person person on the planet in a huff
rather distracting of late but
two JOBs over a few months 2024 my my say all you need to know about the legacy
of the myth, especially her [landowner] 'Glastonbury'
fantasy theme park of really fucked up baby pixies who think they still are youthfully pixie age middling and it all spreading
But then when a man a real lifelong working salt of the earthy man man can't even keep his toolsheds in failrly ok nick it becomes only an installation work of art (all in my can but my can takes time to reopen ) and it all goes rather earth to earth and dust to dust..
despite plenty of dosh and so so many great 'mates' of his all around
that's your real land
rotten even into the dna of the mould lurking the glossy white paint of that picket fence
FULL Turner worthy real arty farty intallations soon, or one day... but a bloke has NO voice in YUK
Now, this was in fact in my drafts a week ago or wednesday ...
Before the recent rather hilarious news..
And the one i blame is - well its philosophy i guess, or some word to pinpoint later, but a demigod, of sorts, to me kind of sums up the 100% acedia of this turgid shopping aisle of whatever you do dont THINK about reality, and all famous people are pretty wonderful innocent souls unless in a certain phonebook, when fuck em...
Especially one super famous give peace a chance cunt was such a mad alcy illusionist he conned the whole world, he was some caring....dad...
a caring dad drops EVERY thing always no question no alternatives no career - me i gave back a professional paid gypsy ticket the moment mine was born there is no half measure indeed as one may say " you are either pregnant or not theres no half way" or you either manage to spy the mountain in the miost and pull up over it when you've fucked up your navigation and are heading for it, or dont... and it all goes bang, theres no half way.."
and its exactly the same re parenting - which can be step parenting too...
But then even if its absolutely nothing to do with me, as from age 10 i was hidden behind a hedge watching on, when occasionally one of this lot made it over to my 100% yeoman peasantry territory all show and jealous fakery - unesteemed as Liverpool had lost it all and they werent London or The Stones...
Asl me a bit of truth about that BPD place would help a lot of folk
me i do - did, my bit... if rarely discoursing with someone from that region giving the usual mythical version " ...ehh... wankers say history doesnt repeat but rhymes very trendy of late... well i wonder what rhymes with
Manchester in the early 1800s campaigned valiantly to abolish the slave trade....whilst Liverpool seemingly wanted it to remain in place...as they made their beer money off it...
And ever since attempted to create rhyming myth that was only ever 100% myth
And even profit from a good song about a mythical caring about a son, so rarely even seen
in fact it makes me sick to even hear some whitey fake fakin it....
At least the other lot know what a bit of real soul, is....
Is a couple of nights a week, knowing the exact 'vibe' of all atchin tans, and window steaming up science, being so stealth that the whole silly world wouldn't imagine one is there and having nine hours sleep. Which always rebalances, reenergises, reyouthifies, after a few 7 hour nights.
And puts it all in perspective.
Which is all very well but not very good when i have pages and pages of groovy unsayables that have been worked on when limited battery allows the last ten days full time on the job, for y'all...
But it is almost as if there are other 'sequences' even synchronicities, and schemas ...all of which i am 100% immune to.
I have known EXACTLY what the mission bell is for years.
And know 'tragedy' when, even if dodgy word, 'soulmate' - i never use even if our book popularised it, you meet a kind of one, with her roaming childhood from Indonesia to poor lost-in-the-stoneage Scotland...
is almost certainly on the same page soulfully, mentally or just life-experiencely, and you need one on exactly that page to have such fun opening up a few other pages nobody dare even peer at
only gypsies - real ones as we certainly both are, can enjoy without being drawn into and even , maybe create a useful translation useful to the next gen - all i care about
and ... she is merely passing through. Tragic... ferkin cheeky faeries toying with my absolutely 100% constant steady state, always for years, no matter what..
Having now given up on even her whom well ...i thought may have at least said ' yes applied or no not needed, THANKS' when the greatest ever STANDARD citizens advice info passed over
supposedly needy
The one greatest of con of all even i fell for
I really did think some years indeed quite a few they were actually from Camden Market, and symbolised, well ....nice try maybe they may have meant a little bit of their 'revolution'....
And it turns out like The Sourcelands... every morning they stumble out at lunchtime and take a less deep breath
only lamentin' that they can't get away with all the standard faker uniform any more and will have to merely accessorise a tad symbolising what they once were...
the greatest fakes ever all along yank, colonising that Camden chic for clicks...
poor deluded things of late even if i knew all along theres only one thing worse than a yank... to be cont
Meanwhile culture or the right books is all that really does matter ...
(on 'class' soon, its time to torpedo the fake plumbers and fake chipfattists, out the water ... and i went to the scuzziest comprehensive ever and had NO parental guidance into any culture...)
But when there just may have been a chance.... all those pretentious portentousnesses like Starkey and absurd little Niall and her Beard....
Meander any so called state .. in those 80s into 90s... a mere kaleidoscope of all the vibrant colours blurring into a beige nothing, on tv at all ever...
that compared to the only one good music show in the whole damn world...
I know..... i gypsy mothed around it, (lowest possible budget that even some fake working class from Liverpool could afford if he gave up the slots) drawn to the occasional fake* twinflames...
perraps...had they an actual community within which to 'have a nice day' even if one person here the enemy
of all, with his latterday rewriting of history
Had they had better after-pub music tv, maybe there wouldnt be a mini-Columbine about twice a week nowadays one is informed ...who knows but all i know i would have been jealous had i known what it could be like in a parallel universe..
* things could get a bit Missy soon, on first read, but then when there's two of em at it, of late been informed... strength in numbers.
that makes his bullying bonkers Epic Fury look like a children's vegan bangerless fireworks party in Gweek ..
ongoing in the background.... lasterweek or so.
I'm not ever telling unless i do get to chapter 2025.
Makes discovering you may have a bit of shared long lost DNA in common, a mere one bubble in a whole bottle of two week long shaken fizz...
in the notes: (though handwriting requisite, so utterly life-elegant)
Does any Englishwoman ..can they... stop.... and remember ...every sense still as if if all still present now from long long ago the seminal night down there in her deepish South... crickets, or katys did add to it all....
And we even have the added frisson
of her sneaky stealthy submersed Charlotte....
few days back doin' the ("whoop whoop arent we big fromage,
first time since us v krraut") biggun so...
what has she replied with at last?
and the only ultimate lesson of zen read it, only when
I'm in toppest bounciest well restedest
state of mindbody only (unlike them Wattsian Tolleian, tittery), all at real
reporting in, even if a year and a half late, from a caca 'ceremony'. I DO undercover before i riff about the nothing-to-report other than cant vanity
and inanity that means they dont have time to actually ever DO anything about the pollution, so busy saving up for the fanciest bespoke caca kit.
Now.. the above, one of many dull Pastyshire BBQ side effects;
mainly they fry their own brains performin' ....nothing.
And so have no opinions left about what or where is the ...'line'
Never mind no opinions about dynamite other than "look at my kinetic running top.."
Anyway... there you are on a rareish late september day when the sun hadn't been out a few weeks, and seeing it is, at exactly mid sunbathing time, in THE one small but must famously ok sitting and staring, spot a few parking spots nearby, a few people spread out on the grass nearby
on distance cameras usually do lie
a mere 100m with the usual sea breeze on sunny days,
which means from them, towards us
...of course, with such a fancy ashpot, and all so well dressed as if at some Banksy opening night of cartoons blaming anyone else but us
Now i wouldnt mind at upstream dead sheep flavouring my water not that its likely
But really, even if i certainly am not going to complain at my 'breathing' air laced with bbqd dead human
Well at least the YAnks set a good example by actually 'caring' for others (near my sitting spot, as the cloudy air wafts inland) and go and do their ceremonies off the beaten track.
stop the press, having said - yes, said, ten or so days ago " i'm at least 1/2 European... maybe 1/4 yank-of-mind, and reluctantly 1/4 Brit.."
I really do think especially upon recent curious and rather...ehhh... 'news', that the 1/4 brit bit needs to be cancelled...
So, i have a quarter free
What's it to be?
Can't be spaceman or as we would say 'space-cadet' as theyre all addicted to caca just to get through a fine warm sunny day... even if a bit ashen
ehhh.... 'animal'..well we all are but they aren't as insane to do any of our stuff. And when for so much of ones life one does live so close to real animals - most dogs don't count as theyve been groomed into being as neurotic as most humans (not hers though the fancy white one - you can tell SO much about an owner from her rare, very chilled mutt), you know that animals for all their truly marvelous otherness that's its own different fabulous universe of other senses and 'realities', and no they don't inform ours, or us. Despite the parasites who sell books demanding they do.
to be cont other far more important things to finish off and put here later depending on the walk
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