Clickpiss

My name is Lawrence, I study History at the University of Sussex, I live in Brighton and I pretty much mostly enjoy my life. I blog a little inconsistently, both in style and content but I have a verbosity that makes up for substance.

[shitpostempire]

[lawrenceiswalkingspanish]

Christ alive I hope this guy isn’t for real

[lawrenceiswalkingspanish]

Boris Must Fall On His Sword

That was the last coherent thought I remember before I fell asleep. I don’t know what it means. I came up with a completely neat way this entire crisis could be improved on, and how we could unite Britain and remain in the EU. But I don’t remember what it was. I didn’t write it down, and in truth I fear it would fall apart under scrutiny anyway.

Jeremy Corbyn has already fallen on his sword, and doesn’t realise it yet. He was always too good for UK politics, he never quite had the stomach for the skullduggery and the frantic abandonment of morality and ideals that seem necessary in the modern game. When you go through political customs, you have all of that fished out of you. Corbyn kept his on him, and was soon found out. He is now as we speak is now being flung from the plane by those he bought tickets. A man who served his constituency and country that well didn’t deserve that.

It is testament to his good intentions that he clings on. Were I Corbyn, I’d take my pension, quietly will the British public to tear each other to shreds in the grim reality we now face. But he has hung in there, and it would be damn indecent to give the man anything but praise for his perseverance. Unfortunately all too late though, the Labour Party have thrown him from the train. He was always too good for them, they now resemble the Tories, but from less affluent backgrounds, and less coherent. My disgust for both parties is now almost equal, at least the Tories are blatant about their intentions.

Corbyn is like Ken Kesey turning up now with the Further Bus and a satchel full of acid, or Karl Marx serving the Reagan administration. A good person, with genuine convictions. But in the context, unusable. And I mean this in the sense that this country is sincerely becoming like a lake of drowning hounds, scrabbling for life, for meaning and finding nothing but other flailing, lost souls.

And what can Corbyn do? What, can anyone do? For a start, Johnson can fall on his sword, whatever that means.

I fear we are truly fucked.

[class-struggle-anarchism]

Reporting on the football violence in the style of western coverage of the middle east…

[lawrenceiswalkingspanish]

Right here and now feels like a very arbitrary point on my current time line, like no particular value in writing at this time, most times I feel inclined to write is usually at some particular checkpoint I feel deserves a summary, or a reflection. But right now is only one of those moments in the sense that I feel like checking in and working out where it is that i’m at.

And I don’t really know where tat is. Sea Oleena sent me a copy of her CD. I  didn’t really want to post this on the Internet as I wouldn’t want other people to pester her abut it, as she sent it to me on what I think was a one off basis. However, it’s one of the most important CDs I’ve ever received.

Those songs on the first two albums penetrate deep into my subconscious, and root around in abstract memories and musings that I don’t even fully understand. All I know is that it resonates with my soul. Words can’t do it justice, the singer creates such an aura of quiet, and relaxation, and above all a tolerance and patience that I need in my life. I really enjoyed the prospect of even speaking to the person who’s made so many of my all-time favourite song. I wanted to talk to her more, but I understood that it would not be the sort of thing she would want to do particularly, and that failing to respect an artists’ personal spaces, and failure to gain perspective on one’s place as a fan is how weird and creepy people gain their reputation. For this reason, I resisted asking questions about song meanings, production processes, and her favourite colour.

But this has meant a lot to me. Getting the CD has been incredibly cathartic, and makes me feel almost a sense of disquiet, and having in CD form the music that I have spammed religiously since 2011, it feels climactic and brilliant. It sounds better, I want to write more, but Tumblr is not keeping up with my writing, and my keyboard keeps getting stuck, so I can’t write properly, or effectively. To conclude, music is making me happy. life is okay.

[dirtygirlfelt-deactivated201709]

I feeeelll this !

[shitpostempire]

[lawrenceiswalkingspanish]

Lost In Berlin

My Berlin trip was wonderful, I had a truly careless time, by which I mean I was utterly devoid of all cares for three glorious days. There were many stories, and antics - best described in conversation than over text, but it was a period out of time - a timeless, idle existence, a bliss where I felt the old wave of resilience, that the night was my oyster, an excitement to meet people, to immerse myself in the relatively alien.

But, true to form - down to Earth and the old worries are back. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wish to bore you with the minor details but like a dog you keep that bites you; returning home brings with it the old anxieties and daily tediums that gnaw at you as you walk through the door before you even have a chance to kick your shoes off.

I am not even depressed, although I was for the first few days. I just feel like a flat note; like a set of Christmas decorations, there in the attic and largely unwanted at this time of year. My life is drifting away from me a little.

As with the Berlin trip, life functions most effectively when you lose track of time. The person who can barely believe it’s May already is far superior to the person who counts every day by on a cocktail of doom and boredom. The truly relaxing holiday, where you forget that time is even passing is superior to both. Yet I have gone from one extreme to the other and it feels a shock to the system.

What to do? I feel there are many elements of my life in need of serious repairs, some very crucial repairs, in some areas I have only recently begun to see signs of what may be long term damage. And this time comes at an inopportune moment as the tools to deal with all this have been put in the garage until Summer. And it;s only May. I need time. Time to rest. Time to think. Time to contextualise. And I don’t believe I am going to get it. This is a headache.

[as-warm-as-choco]

You thought you knew anything about cuteness overloads? This proves you wrong! (My heart melted and I don’t even play Metal Gear Solid)

Cosplayer: Maul Cosplay Timberwolf from: Filmwoelfe

[shitpostempire]

[sleepy-piastri]

I want a gif about this Cou-Kloppo moment. someone?

[thegenerousmrlovewell]

The cutest manager ever

[truckersatlas]

My heart melted

[lawrenceiswalkingspanish]

What is this man

[lialuna]

Visit Original Link

covered a beautiful song with my beautiful friend isabelle (https://twitter.com/k0m0r3bi)

original by sea oleena.

*.•

[lawrenceiswalkingspanish]

Beauty = Truth

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and I can’t mentally disprove it. The more I thought the more I couldn’t help but disagree, although it follows an illogical foundation in the sense that beauty is truth, but truth is not necessarily beauty.

All beautiful art follows a basic truth - (eye of the beholder etc yes yes) in that you recognise something in the piece fundamental - whether an ideal or something more intangible. I found Frances beautiful in the supermarket the other day because I realised we were both there in that moment. I saw her wandering about looking for cheese and couldn’t help but be taken with the fact that I was sharing my life with this person, she was not just an idea, but a real person I could touch and live with. Maybe this doesn’t make sense.

A beautiful painting creates a different truth. When you see an artists’ perspective on an idea, or even their take on a time and place - you see the world through their eyes. And this is truth, because we all take in the world in a different way, and seeing it in the medium of Van Gogh’s swirling oils, or an impressionist watercolour highlights this truth. An abstract can represent an emotion or sense in another human being that takes us there into the same framework, but with different content. I quite like seeing how other people draw too for this reason.

And this sense of unity with the world as well as the vicariousness of living someone else’s perception is beautiful, and surely a truth?

I feel beauty is in the moments we actually live - when rumination and double guessing are put to one side, and the moment is all that is true. Meeting a friend for coffee, a meaningful conversation with a complete stranger, random picnics and even a gathering over a football game. I’m trying to live more like this, to create moments rather than remember them.

This must be why love is beautiful, because of the relentless impulse it brings to live in the moment. Therefore, when love ends it is also beautiful because of the relentless impulse to dwell in the moment of absence of love. One is forced to live in the truth of an absence, life become impossible to live without that horrible sense of loss and malaise. And perhaps this too is beautiful. Fuck it I don’ know. Even articulating this far was hard, and I don’t know how much further I’ll get.

[polyphonicchant-deactivated2020]

[picoloonions-deactivated2019080]

@lawrenceiswalkingspanish

[allthingseurope]

The Dancing House, Prague (by Alberto Blasi)

[lawrenceiswalkingspanish]

Still.looking.out.the.fuckingwindow

So I quit my job last Monday. I begin work at the new place and on Thursday. It’s not new there, I worked there for years. However, it is the right thing to do. I haven’t told anyone, but this company gave me a structure in life that the recent job just removed. At FS (old company) I was getting up well, pretty much in control of my diet, and around skilled people.

At WS (recent company), I made a difference. I was one of the few people who gave a shit and made an effort. And even though I got fucked off, I would still make an effort. People saw and respected that and I didn’t realise this till the end. I handed my week’s notice in, boss and co-workers duely fucked over. Now I’m going back to FS.

Hopefully going to Berlin soon. I don’t feel like writing actually, it feels forced. Will update this soon..

[lawrenceiswalkingspanish]

The music of Sea Oleena is Ethereal Defined

Her music is just astonishing. The notes played, and the resonance they have create such a feeling of spiritual atavism. The chords feel almost primordial, like it cut to the very centre of your soul. Her voice is like a voice from heaven, in a non religious way. The lyrics, drawn out though they are so wise yet naive; ancient yet youthful; gentle yet firm.

I don’t know Charlotte Oleena, or anything about her - but the music creates a picture of a tormented yet fierce soul, thoughtful and wise. It seems like if you met her, he’d be on another plateau, the way she matches mournful, ethereal ambiance with a constant, slow drawn out reflection. I can’t but describe. I can’ explain. This music makes me feel like someone understands, but sort of doesn’t. Sea Oleena doesn’t understand, she just burns so brightly that you can’t help but feel like you understand a little more about the human condiiton by listening to her. And this makes me feel happy. It helps me sleep, so many countless nights has her music chased away demons and helped me  get a quiet night.

[femarchive]