The Package.

"Right so lets go through it all over again Mr Rosenkitten!"

"Right from the top?"
"Yes Please,"
"And it's Rosenkvitten, not kitten please."
"Yes please, right  from the beginning."
"So it's a business,"
"The boxes,"

"Yes the boxes, lockers, mail boxes. I've got boxes from big business like Gung-Ho, you know the purple ones. You buy something from their website and if for some reason you don't want it sent to your prehab address you nominate this block here. This ones called Betty for some reason. Ken, the Gung-Ho guy, I've known Ken for years now. Well Ken turns up probably every other day, in that big old clapped out purple hover van of his. Gung-Ho emblazoned down the side in the garish font they use. Well it's never just Ken, he always has some kid with him. The kids don't seem to last long so I never really get to know their names, but Ken, like I said, known him for years. One of them brings the stuff in, the other watches the van. Can't leave the van alone especially not in this sort of neighbourhood. Well the punter either leaves a package or is picking one up. Their given a code, one of the lockers opens up and they either deposit something or pick something up. I don't ask, I have a reputation for being discreet. Ken comes along and empties all the lockers puts them in the van then the kid comes in and fills them with the deliveries, Ken and the kid have special codes for that. Then the punters pick their stuff up later once notified over the mesh."
"So the package was in the Gung-Ho lockers? They should be able to provide a traceable log then?"
"They would be able to if the thing was in one of their lockers."
"It wasn't in one of the Gung-Ho lockers then?"
"A few years back I branched out with my own boxes. You know address of convenience. You see the grey boxes next to the purple ones, those are mine. You rent them on a monthly basis. I don't ask too many questions, they're not big enough for anything really dangerous, a small package, letters. as I say address of convenience. See this unit isn't like the rest of the prehabs in the block. It's an ex security transport crate. One of the split ones with extra protection to the inside half"
"So you have more boxes inside the other half??"
"Don't be stupid. I had them plumb the thing up like a prehab, water, electric, comms. I live in the other half. Safest prehab in the block. But there's some not so lucky. Slipped through the cracks. Look between the blocks, behind the main streets. You find the cardboard city. The dispossessed, the homeless. Now they can't get medical benefits, official documents etc without a proper address. Some of them have a few valuables they want to keep safe, can't leave them on the streets. So I rents boxes to a few of them. They can leave stuff in them, or even use them as postal addresses, all sorts"
"So it was one of them?"
"This is what I was trying to tell you. I rented a box to a Mr Smith, scruffy, down on his luck. Only the boxes are DNA keyed to customer. Makes them more secure. Personal. Once the key is matched only they can use it"
"So it was Mr Smith who had the package?"
"No not that Mr Smith. Another one!"
"Sorry you're loosing me again."
"I rented the box to one of the homeless guys. He had all the right documentation, ID etc, for Mr Smith."
"You check it on presentation?"
"No I don't need to, it's all scanned as you come in. That slightly oversized door frame does all the works, all the frequencies plus infra and hi-sec. So you can't bring in dodgy cards, or or use hookey ID chips. So as far as I knew Mr Smith was on the level."
"So it was Mr Smith that had the package then"
"Look I don't remember him actually bringing anything in apart from the first time. it was just documents from what I could see."
"So when did the package arrive"
"That's the thing. All I remember is the smell. fishy. I asked Ken to check all his lockers but he said there was nothing in his. He cleans them out every month, disinfects them and all. Very professional, very hygienic.
It's just that about a month later some different homeless guy comes in and presents the lot again."
"What?"
"Mr Smiths cards, and the key. Says he's an nephew, and his uncle has died, and gone and left him the lot. Not actually that much but the documents and the key. Say's it took him a bit of time to track down what the key belonged to."
"But the door would have warned you?"

"Yes the thing is wired real time into local law enforcement channels, partly for my protection but for the customers as well."
"Please spare me the sales pitch. Go on"

"Well that was it, Mr Smith junior presents the key, it's scanned as clean so I can only take his word for it. If he was lying then the cards at least would be all over the mesh as dodgy, but they had scanned clean. So I reset the key and he went straight to the locker and pulled out the box."
"That's when you saw it?"
"Well yes it sort of flopped out of the top. I don't think he realised I saw it."
"The tentacle?"
"Yes, that's when I gave the station a call, because of the news bulletins all over everything the other day. The Ceph kid."
"But did you actually see it?"
"No!"
"Damn all you've really given me is the dead homeless guy murdered round the corner may, or may not, have been called Smith, but it's unlikely, and another homeless guy is now the same Mr Smith, and I’m no closer to the missing seph meta kid, or what these people want with her."

"Look Mr Rosenkitten I'm not even sure whether to thank you or just charge you with wasting police time."
"It's Rosenkvitten, and I thought there was some sort of reward."
"So far you've given me two bits of undistinguishable vid and the possibility that the kids in the cardboard city. Not a lot to go on. The kid could be light years away by now, or some ones lunch. I'll be in touch, we may work out some creds for the time."
With that the officer left and I haven't seen him since.

Writing And The Loss Of Love.

 [Short note: I found this in my "Drafts" folder, from about five years ago but decided to publish it as is]

I find myself yet again over burdened by the futility of life.
I'm watching a film about writers (“the tenants”), I'm watching a film about writers falling in love (the same film) with the same girl. I'm finding myself unmoved, but uncomfortable. Both by the aspect of love and the aspect of the writers. The main character is putting his life on hold for an eventuality (to use his phrase) “once I've finished my book!”
Recently I keep finding myself watching films, and plays, and other programmes about writers. Finding myself more and more depressed by them.
The reason I find this film disturbing is, on the one hand identifying with the writing aspect (if not in reversal), the other hand is not identifying with the love aspect.
Continuously through the film the main character is putting all aspects of his life on hold (as I mentioned to finish his book). Not being able to allow for any aspect of his life to change, lest it disturb his creative flow. He is the last tenant of a block of flats because he refuses to move as all other tenants have. I identify probably because I keep coming up with excuses as to how, and why, not to write. I identify with the dysfunctional aspect of not admitting it's me that is stopping me write, or committing to the writing.
I often talk about the long term study I am making of symbolism, and how people apply it to themselves, with particular emphasis on occult symbolism.
Why do I mention this?
On the love aspect, probably bolstered by the fact I've spent the afternoon watching detective programs (particularly Morse, and Frost). Who seem to be incredibly lonely and isolated, even dysfunctional, when it comes to women at least. As I watched the film all I felt at the romantic parts was a hollowness. I am beginning to think that perhaps it's another area of my life where I put things on hold for too long.
I think I am focusing on their dysfunction, and loneliness because that is how I'm beginning to feel myself. I'm seeking the similarity, and identifying with that which I am beginning to see is wrong with my life at the moment.
I have spent quiet a few years remaining conspicuously single on purpose. Mostly from the point of view that a relationship built from combined effort to combat problems, tends to fall apart once the opposition has been surmounted. Say if you spend years struggling to pay debts, or overcome money worries, once the problem is solved the bond in the relationship breaks down.
To this end, by my own particularly twisted little logic, I have spent years trying to get a reasonable job, decent money, and cover the mortgage without worrying too much. to this end I have avoided (apart from a couple of drunken indiscretions and what I can only describe as a very confusing period when I wasn't going out with someone, a sort of not relationship, funnily enough not the first not relationship I've been involved in) any sort of relationship, choosing to turn down any offers from friends or family to set me up with anyone.
It's this that is beginning to worry me. Perhaps I have spent too long alone to start actually feeling anything for anyone. I am beginning to feel further and further disassociated. I'm worried that I no longer know how to start the process again now that I feel I should.
OK it's back to my plain pasta (with black pepper and butter), and “Practical Magic” on the telly. Yet again (to quote Sandra Bullock) “at times my heart feels so empty, I'm sure if you put your ear to my chest you could hear the sea!”
If only magic were as simple as they portray it here. A quick rhyme, the throwing of some herbs, burn a candle and that's that. Sod all my preparation both physical and mental, drawing circles and incanting.
If only the “Buffy Wiccan” thing worked. I'll have a pinch of Eris, a little of Freya, spirit of the sky, spirit of fire, spirit of water, spirit of earth, a meeting of minds, a length of time, and a companion to hold.

I stil await the 
May all your gods smile upon you.

Technorati Tag: love, loss, Morse, Frost, Buffy, Buffy Wiccan, Love Spell, Witch Craft, relationships, meekon5.

Collecting Things.

When I say I collect things I don't just mean the obvious. Not just the records (vinyl), or the CD's, DVD's, books, the Lego etc, that's obvious, but what I'm talking about is more ephemeral. Not just the people. One of the advantages of having worked so many places doing so many things (possibly a whole other post, or two, in that one theme there) giving me so many people from so many places, the vast depth and breadth of humanity suffering from delusions of their own competence (it still amazes me how badly people can fuck things up whilst still being totally convinced they are doing the right thing). What I think I'm really talking about (here, now) is the huge opportunity the mobile phone camera has given me. I can often be found taking pictures of what seem to be the most mundane things. Though I am enamoured with architecture and often will waste time taking pictures of buildings (Westminster tube station being one of my favourites) sometimes just because the light has changed, and is showing me another aspect of them. Here I am being particular. I have in my mind the construction of a vast space, most likely a space station. It is the minutae that draws me. The numbering of rooms in buildings. Doors and cupboards. The placing of posters on columns. Closed circuit cameras. Switching boxes, and wiring ducts. It's these pieces that makes a scene believable. it's the cheeky sticker on the escalator step that is just a picture of an electric plug socket, which is only seen when the stairs are running. Or the addition of some little phone number stuck on someone else’s poster.

So don't be surprised if you find me in some dark corner taking a picture of some old dusty fuse box, it's just another prop to the orbiting station I'm slowly building in my head.

Fifteen Minute Writer.

First I let me point you at this book:

The 15-Minute Writer: How To Write Your Book In Only 15 Minutes A Day Kindle Edition

One of the joys of my commute is the time I find available to read. I am now reading more than I probably have in the last twenty years (since I went to university). One of the most recent "books" (I put the phrase in inverted commas as I think it's only really a pamphlet pretending to be a book) is the one linked above. It proposes a schedule of fifteen minutes writing a day. I have already failed the schedule because I didn't write yesterday so am doing two fifteen minute sessions today.

So this is the first attempt. I have decided to revive the blog. So expext a bit more waffle here then.