i’m on ouch!

this is funny – i gave a link to the bbc ouch website and they actually posted a link to it. thus, i expect/hope that my readership to expand from..well..friends and family to, well, I dunno. hhow many readers does ouch have. well, if you followed the link ffrom ouch: welcome and salutations.

beter find something to write about. ahh..in iraq, there have been piictures taken if combattants being tortured by americans. is it me, or does this breach the geneva conventions? by rights, the us should be under sanctionnsl, but its way too big to do so. alk about an “evil empire”.

Matt’s bullshit theory of Reciprocal Fate

I’m writing from my brother’s house. It’s rather cool. The downside is now I have to think of something interesting to write about. Interesting enough so that Luke doesn’t say “this is boring” and stop taking my dictation. So I will explain my theory of Reciprocal Fate. It’s not the most scientific theory but in fact I think I pulled it out of my arse one night when I was feeling especially got at. Anyway here goes:

I was looking at how my brother’s do well at college. This morning on the way up here we were discussing my younger borther’s predicted grades at A Level and how easy he will get into university. It seems that way to me. And I thoguht that fate must even itself out somehow; that the law of averages must apply. Sometimes, I think I struggle and sometimes it seems that things are harder for me than it is for them. Therefore, I sometimes think that I get all the crap while they do well. This of course is bullshit and unscientific etc. But on the other hand if it is true, in a way I am happy because if I have CP it means that they can do well. I know I sound like Jesus Christ and I don’t really intend to but this is how I sometimes feel.

Anyway, this week Luke passed his motorbike exams, which is pretty damn cool although officially I’m not allowed to support him in this reckless activity. Congratulations bro.

Ironic song?

today I have been pondering a popular song. not sure of it’s title, but it’s sole lyrics are “Push me, and don’t just touch me, then I can get my, satisfaction.” On the way home, it occured to me that this song might be referring to disability – the lyrics are born of a voice cynthesiser, similar to my lightwrither. in that the singer cannot get his “sattisfaction”, could this refer to the way disabled people remain loveless?

interesting, but i somehow doubt it.

40 shillings on the drum

i just finished reading an article in the sunday times news review. It5 was an accountt of the capture of Baghdad last year, detailing american soldiers actions first hand – one could smell the tank feul, and the blood. So far we have been merely given numbers of dead or captured, but this article i got a glimpse of the real war.

and I remember feeling the same thrill i got when i see battles on film – in sharpe, or when the rohirrim charge. this was exciting stuff; boys-own adventure. and i felt ashamed to feel so, for then i read of the blood, the families fast losing members – sons and daughters. One shouldn’t allow oneself to forget the truith of war.


night has fallen. the sky is deep, dark blue and fringed with low cloud, and there are no stars. I yearn for one. I yearn to leave this room and walk under the sky: under amazonian skies; under african skies. once again, i feel my feet itching. I want to see the far-off corners of the world: camping inv the serengeti, eatinng sushi in tokyo, drinking beer as the sun sets over sydney harbour.

these things will never happen. I am trapped in my body. i will never climb kilimanjaro, or see machu pichu. But in my mind I am free – free to walk in the grasslands of africa and the snows of the rockies. I see the salmoln in the stream, the wildebeast on the plain, and the whale in the sea. I hear music from africa and see pictures of these pllaces.

i am free, and travel must wait. good night, my friiends.

did bush just shoot himself in the foot?

i’ve been watching news with interest this week, as iraq seems to be going awol. bush has also been talking with sharon, and they made a deal over isreal which will almost certainly enrage the alestinians as it senies them the right to return to what they say are their homes. does nobody else see the irony here – israel was built on this very principle. anway, it has long been established that one of bin laden’s major oncerns is palestine, so what enrages palestine wll enrage bin laden, and since bush is unambiguously tle creator of this hipocratic plan, more terrorist attacks will follow.

instead of protecting the u.s from attack, bush is inviting them. i just wrote a 4-page politics hwk in 5 hrs, so exxcuse my typing.

Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll in Amsterdam.

One knows the world has gone haywire when one’s parents take you into a Sex show! Mine did, but then, ma and pa are pretty cool.

We’ve just got back from a long weekend in Amsterdam: it’s a fine, beautiful city, full of wonderful buildings, large squares and excellent views, butt we went for other reasons.

We got there Saturday morning in time for lunch in a small café, then a tour of the city by boat, then a trip back to the hotel, then, in the evening, an exploration of the city’s nightlife. We head for the red light area, for which the city is famous, in an attempt to, um, get me aid, during which time we encountered a stage sex show, which was rather funny, if just to see the dirty oriental businessmen in the audience. Then, we went to see if any thing could be done about my virginity. Err..no. seems I can’t even pay for it. Dents ones ego. Ho hum

Anyway, during this very dodgy evening, we paid a visit to the cannabis museum. Somehow, we talked to the proprietor about medicinal cannabis, and he invited us back the following afternoon for a demonstration of THC – the drug minus the orher weird stuff.

Now, I’ve always thought thee parents to be conservative when it comes to drugs. I was wrong, and the following afternoon, after a visit to the tulip fields (pretty, but dull) they wheeled my chair into the museum. There, at the back, was a nice American lady called Zoe, who, after some talk, showed me the thc apparatus – best termed “hippie bagpipe” – and squirted the drug into my mouth.

I had trouble inhaling in time with the mouthpiece, so Zoe recommended we get some hippie chocolate from a nearby café, which, along with ample puffs from the bagpipe, saw me rather..err. I think stoned is the word. I could relax, move more fluidly, and nothing ached. It worked, and all was well, till I had a beer.

That was a mistake: I got rather depressed, sad etc, for no reason. I decided I hated the drug. I should not have mixed the two substances. Not an experience I want to repeat, ever! I still feel slightly iffy.

Yet, possibly the best thing that happened was in the lift of C&A, which we shared with a mother and her daughter with CP. She was about 5 or 6, I guess. We faced each other – she was wide eyed with curiosity, and realisation that she was not alone.