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Arjan Benning at Photography Served

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Down a level or two . . . my fingers are too clumsy

 

I couldn’t drag myself out to face people today.
I don’t want to write — I’m too much of a bloody nothing.

I’m talking secretly to a friend in my mind.
Oh God I wish he would actually appear.
He is God and human and lifts me from all my weaknesses.
Man it’s so beautiful living with him inside my mind always, but the outside world comes in and he’s shut out.
I’m finding it harder all the time to cross back for such non-realities as work and material existence.

John Mayall is two Saturdays away now and I just don’t know what he’ll do to me. Front row seats.


My protests against society’s habits have reached the point where I stay home weekends because everyone else goes out.

Oh God what am I to do with my life?
It won’t be work, suburban living or limitations of any sort ever again.
I’ll grow till I am more God than human. Until I am eternal and infinite, living beyond time and place.

How do you find others that can dig it when to socialise betrays your beliefs?

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Down a level or two I am still as certain as ever that I am really a musician.
When I listen to a brilliant musician I feel an affinity with him but anger that I am not actually him.
My mind can play and feel it just as he can but my fingers are too clumsy. Whether I was previously a great musician or whether I’ll be one in the next life, I don’t know.
But more likely, I AM a brilliant musician somewhere else in the world right now.

And God if YOU can’t dig what I feel you’ll see how hard it is for me to find someone who does.

The old world is exploding.
The children who are coming do not hate, war doesn’t exist in their minds and nor does greed (i.e. politics), nor material extravagance nor status.

Right now in this country people are being jailed for saying “bullshit”, for being naked, for having sex outside marriage, for smoking grass. Give Ireland Back to the Irish is banned.
People are run out of the country for saying “fuck”.

And meanwhile the Government says “join the Army, learn to kill your enemy”.

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Note to Cloggo:

I wore a rather fetching pair of white linen pants with attached half-skirt to work yesterday!
My workmates were impressed, since they seldom ever see anything very “different” on me these days.

They were not exactly HOT pants, in spite of the split skirt.
More cold pants really, but ideal for the hot weather.

Can I feel you panting down my neck at the very description of them or are you still invested in Kahlila’s purple hot pants with the matching skirt unbuttoned though to the upper thigh?


It’s your choice, you know!


But you’re still No 1 with me anyhow — by a long shot, and I know K feels the same way.

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Fact and fantasy in Cloggo's Bloggo

 
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Dear Readers

In spite of what Uncle Cloggo implies about “his” Kahlila in that delightful story, the facts are these:

She had a traumatic experience of whalebones early in life, which unfortunately I can’t elaborate on, as it would embarrass someone very close.
You will just have to take me at my word that that, combined with a rebellion against the straights in general, made her pretty much anti-underwear in general.

Take no notice when he starts on one of his rants about feminism and femininity (a word that makes her puke)!

You have to try and see it from where our beloved Cloggo is coming from.
Women’s Lib never reached that part of Yorkshire, bless him, and he’s still not heard of Germaine Greer.
Not that he needed to — women rule the roost there by sheer force of personality and never WERE very feminine.
They never had time, and were at pains to not be like the city folks in London and Manchester who had designs on themselves, and a lot more money.

So I think we can safely say Maris Piper, Kinky Korsets, Morgana and the Redhead Appreciation Society are all a part of a very rich and beguiling fantasy life, and surmise too that most of the men of RV are pussy-whipped.

Take these well-known local identities:

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The token male looks positively gay!
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.


Now when Kahlila arrived there with a case full of trouser suits, pants suits, hot pants, split skirts and wet-look dresses, of course there was a stir!
While only a minor head-turner in her native Invercargill New Zealand, she was an instant celebrity in west Yorkshire and the story obviously went round that she had superpowers: she could fly, she could find her way in and out of forbidden buildings and through walls; she could see life from the advantage point of 2010 — 40 years into the future!

So read Cloggo with a grain of salt handy and file his wonderful stories under FICTION — of the fantasy genre but w/o the flowing waterfalls, moonlit nights etc.

~ ~ ~

They are so old-world and inward-looking in Royston Vasey that they thought when they first saw K that she must have been from London or New York.
It is a mark of how good-natured they are though that they treated her as a VIP from the start, as if she came not just from a metropolitan area but another planet (Venus).
That she flew in from Venus, in fact!

And how could she not love them for being so guileless?

It is a mark of Cloggo’s love that he adores her even though she refuses to conform, while other girls tumble and stumble at his feet indulging his fantasies and competing for his attention to no real avail.

And I love him too as if he were a real person, even though he keeps trying to groom a past version of me for his blog, in ridiculously constricting outfits like this:

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! ! ! ! ! !

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There are 100 Cinemascope images on Turkish movie director Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s website.

Best seen as big as your screen will allow (or in a movie theatre, I guess) by clicking here

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F-u-c-k off, olds

 


(Snippets only cos some things don’t belong on the world wide web)

~
I have a hell of a headache.
Fancy cracking up still two years after a month-long affair when I was 17.

~
Wore a long frock tonight.
Everyone in the street looked around, like they’d never seen one.
Long hippie dress and bare feet.

~
I keep seeing things I hate about society written on people’s faces.
I’ll set out to find reality as soon as I get the right person to trip around the world with.

~
Yesterday I got a letter from my friend Rowan and as expected he blew his mind completely on Zeppelin in Sydney.


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Hair is at present being ordered out of the country for indecency, Mungo Jerry was summoned for spelling out f-u-c-k; the leader of Women’s Lib is on a summons for saying “bullshit”; it goes on.


I KNOW this is a rising.
The old world’s exploding at our feet with its ridiculous values.
And soon it will be our own, in which to live on love and cast out hate.

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countryboylife:

(via herekitty)


I am eagerly anticipating your account of this, Cloggo

Is it your Kahlila?

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stumbot:

Thought For The Day:
“You grow up and get bigger and bigger until you are a big number (i.e. age) like 29, then you explode and die and you are just bones.”
—Ben, age 4

image via 3.bp.blogspot.com

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stumbot:

“Can you tell me where I might find Mr. Cloggo?”


I think he’s probably just gone offline, babe.
I’ll tell him you called.

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oldhollywood:

“Where a beast would have claws, I was born with talent.”

-Klaus Kinski (photo by Giulio Broglio/via AP)

Well of course Klaus didn’t need the claws.

Demented genius.

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