- Name: northlondonhippy
- Visit the hippy's brand new site!
Contact the hippy
VISIT THE HIPPY'S NEW SITE: www.northlondonhippy.com Spend some time chilling out with the hippy...He used to be "the most shroomtastic stoner on the internet!" until the UK banned fresh magic mushrooms. He's still "the biggest internet celebrity you've never heard of!" He'll make you laugh, he'll make you think...he'll make you wish you were a hippy too!
Sunday, October 31, 2004
I don't need to be awake as early as the last few days, thanks to my later start, so I will probably chill out a bit in my lair before crashing. I've got the chance to have a special screening of "Team America: World Police", which might be a pleasant diversion to enjoy while I unwind. It's not out in the UK until January I believe, so lucky me, eh?
I've got Mrs. Hippy's car with me tonight, so at least I'll have a relatively quick journey back to my ghetto in fabulous north London.
If you don't know London, you won't know what I mean when I write about north London. London is actually a collection of villages and smallish towns, linked under the heading: Greater London. People refer to the general areas as central, north, south, east, west, southeast, southwest, northeast and northwest London. It's not as confusing as it may sound. I usually just say I live in north London, though admittedly (and intentionally here online) it is a bit vague.
I've never mentioned in this blog which part of north London I live in, and I'm going to keep it that way. If you need to know so badly, just email me.
Email me anyway, this hippy just loves hearing from his legions of hippyfans! And I'll always reply, try me.
At least I've "broken the back" of this run of five shifts in a row. Only 2 more left and come Tuesday morning, this hippy is free to party! Bring on the drugs and teenage girls!
Just to entertain you everyday...
The hippy will never go away....
Give me the chance and I'll lead you astray...
Enough singing. Besides, you don't even know the tune.
I've just traveled back in time. For real. It was 1am, then it was 2am, and like all of a sudden it was 1am again.
The fact that the clocks went back might have something to do with this...daylight savings time has come to an end. It's the same if you are in north America and Europe, I think. As for the rest of the world, well, you tell me.
The downside to working the night the clocks go back is simple, you work an extra hour. I work long enough shifts already without having to do any extra hour. Here's hoping I work the night they go forward next Spring, so I can get that hour back!
It's alright for most of you, since it means an extra hour of sack time. I could do with an extra hour of sleep myself, anytime.
I've got a later start on Sunday and Monday, so in reality I will get a little extra rest, but not enough. I want my hour back!
The US elections are heading into the home stretch. Having perused all the Sunday UK papers, I can tell you that the Bin Laden video is seen as a boost to Bush. This is very bad. Bush needs to lose and lose big.
I don't think I've ever hated a US president as much as I hate George W (for wish he loses) Bush. He's an intellectual dwarf, a smarmy, smirking shithead. There's cowshit that needs shovelling in Crawford, Texas, Georgie boy. Come January you better have a shovel handy!
Kerry's problem, I think, is that he hasn't impressed voters enough. His performance towards the end of the campaign, since the debates really has been solid and consistent, but is it too little, too late? Or, perhaps they can't risk performing the operation to remove the stick from his ass until after election day.
Yes, I think Kerry is stiff, but I also think he is a lot smarter, wiser and more trustworthy than GWB.
Be real hippy! This election is fixed, Bush is going to win. There's too much money and too many no-bid government contracts at stake for them to let Kerry win. The rich need to be richer, it's their god-given right. Bring on the tax cuts!
I really can't wait for it to all be over and done with. I'm bored with it. If we are lucky, when we wake up on Wednesday, we'll know the outcome. If we're not lucky, a lot of high-priced lawyers will be on the clock and we won't have a winner for weeks.
Please god, let Kerry win! Bush thinks you chose him last time, but that must be a mistake. If you have any say lord, please, please, please make sure Kerry wins. Put it this way, god, if you don't, then your "best" creation, good ol' planet earth, might have a significantly shorter shelf-life.
God doesn't listen to me. Does he listen to you? If he does, have a word in his ear.
It's out of god's hands as well. Does god have hands? Were we created in his image? Somehow I doubt god is a short, fat bald guy, so I'm guessing I look nothing like him.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Seems he's been making videos for us again, another one surfaced tonight on Al Jazeera. I'm sure you've all seen it or heard about its existence and contents.If this is the "October surprise" we've been threatened with, it's a bit of a damp squib.
But what if this video is foreshadowing the real surprise? That doesn't bear thinking about, does it?
The fact is, Al Qaeda usually puts out one of these tapes just before something big and bad happens. We haven't seen Osama in a while, so is there a special significance to his appearance now or is it just to try and stir up some shit with the US election?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions, only time will tell. Let's hope all they can manage is this video. Let's hope nothing nasty is lurking on the horizon.
Life in the modern world, eh? We all live in the future.
It's about quarter to 2am, I just got nice. It was busy for a while, but now everything is mellow, even (or especially) the hippy. I've got three more nights of work after this one, then a few days off to relax, hippy-style.
I've become addicted to checking the statistics of this page, thanks to www.sitemeter.com. I only added the counter a couple of months ago and let's be brutally honest, I'm not exactly over-run with visitors.
Don't let that put you off! If you've made it to this page, that makes you part of the vanguard of the internet elite. If you're a regular visitor, well that makes you even more extra-special. So go, bookmark this page, grab the RSS feed and become part of the growing legions of hippyfans!
Anyway, I've been checking the stats for this page and one of the interesting things I can see is what page brought you to this page. Sometimes your search terms can throw up surprises and lots of you stumble on my site accidently through Google.
If you put "Are you digging on me?" into Google, this page will come up in your search. I know this, because it is a popular "stumble search" into the hippy. I quoted her song a while back, while whinging about one of my neighbours who was fixated on the song. I wonder if Joss Stone knows of her secret internet connection to me? You look for her and you find me! What a disappointment!
Also, if you put "hippy" and pretty much any other search term, well, that will point you to yours truly as well. Here, check out one that made me laugh right here.
However you get here, I'm just glad YOU made it!
I'm going for a break now, might come back later. Or might completely forget.
Friday, October 29, 2004
No time for that shit, I've actually been busy tonight. This is going to be remarkably brief.
My shrooming yesterday was very pleasant, though I think it was the full moon, which only made me crazier than usual. That's really saying something.
I quite enjoyed the shrooming, though I don't know why I wasn't more wasted. I took a big fat dose, nearly 50 grams. I should have been in a heap on the floor, having trouble forming words, but I wasn't.
I should have my first flush of Koh Samuis in a less than a fortnight. They are suppose to be a bit more potent than Mexican p.cubes, though they are just a different strain of p.cubes.
There's a school of thought that all p.cubes have a similar potency, which I think may be true. I'll let you know in a couple of weeks.
Mrs. Hippy is having a miserable time in Washington. She's working hard, long days and probably won't have a day off until she returns. Fucking election. I wish she could come home.
I'm missing her too, it's more than a bit lonely in the hippy's lair!
Anyway, I said I'd keep this brief and I am a hippy of my word! Be back when I can...
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Deep in the heart of north London!
If you don't know the song "Deep in the heart of Texas", then the above humour is lost on you. C'est la vie.
The bad news: I didn't shroom yesterday!
The good news: I just ingested around 45-50 grams of fresh mexican p.cubes not 5 minutes ago, which is why I'm typing fast.
Once those little fuckers kick in, I won't be typing anything! My brain will be fried to a shroomy crisp. But in a nice way, of course.
This is the largest dose I've done in a while, so whey hey, party time, hippy stylie!
For the record, I have been remarkably well behaved while Mrs. Hippy has been away. I haven't been out one single evening and this is the first time I've shroomed. I haven't had a drink either, but then I don't drink these days.
Ok, ok, I have had countless spliffies, but hey, I would have had them even if she were here.
That's the cool thing about being a total weed-head, you never need a special occasion to spark up. It's like, "oh wow, I'm awake, that calls for a celebratory smoke!" Or "I've just finished a spliff, time to have a another one." You get the idea.
My rolling habits are quite neurotic and retentive. I tend to roll at least 10 or more spliffs at a time. When you smoke the way I do, it just makes good common sense to do it this way. Think of it as dosage regulation.
I mix the tobacco and weed together, so each spliff in the batch has the same strength. Because I'm experienced, my weed to tobacco ratio is usually pretty standard from batch to batch as well. For everyday smoking, I use regular, king sized rizlas and I roll each one with a rizla rolling machine.
But hippy, using a machine is cheating. Fuck that, each joint I make is perfect and just like every other one I make. Consistency, reliability and dosage control. You can trust a spliff from the hippy!
For other occasions, I make various other forms of joints, spliffs and blunts. One day, when I am scratching for a hippy topic, I'll give you a guide to the hippy spliff range, complete with instructions and links to the various products I use.
"Smoking accessories" is big business, my favourite site, EDIT, apparently turns over a couple million a year, according to an article I read in the Observer a while back. I contribute a reasonable share, but it's a drop in the bucket to their overall business. They're a good site, with an excellent selection. If the hippy shops there, you know its good!
Anyway, I can feel the shrooms percolating in my brain and the words are taking a bit effort to go from my mind to the screen. Maybe I'll come back when I'm peaking and amuse you all. Or perhaps, just to amuse myself.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Hey! It's early on Tuesday morning, one week from the US presidential elections!
If you are American and you have a vote, please use it wisely. Wisely in this context can only have one meaning: Vote Kerry! Even if you have half of a functioning brain, the choice is obvious. Actually there really is no choice.
And look, if you think four more years of Bush is a good thing, then just FUCK OFF RIGHT OUT OF MY BLOG!
What are you still doing Bush-supporter, are u a little slow? You fucking must be to want to keep that malevolent piece of shit in office, I said FUCK OFF!
George (W for wasted presidency) Bush has done more to fuck up the world than any other US president, ever. He didn't even get the job legitimately. The sooner he is back shoveling cow shit on his ranch in Texas, the better for everyone on this little blue planet!
I have to be honest, right after September 11th, he had my support, and my sympathy. I thought he was a tosser when he “won” (stole) the election in 2000, but watching the WTC come down even softened me. It softened most of the world as well, everyone was behind America then.
But Bush and his neo-con cunt parade did everything in their power to squander all that good will. Let’s hope John Kerry has the chance to try to put it right. Yeah, fat chance, Karl Rove has already put a plan in motion to steal it again I expect. I’m prepared to wake up on November 3rd to discover bad news.
Enough about foreign politics, I have bigger fish to fry! Or rather, drugs to take. I've got 60 grams of fresh mexican p.cubes here and dammit if I might take the whole lot today. Man they would fry my brain but good! In a very nice way of course.
My EDIT order arrived at 7:30am this morning, and had all the things I requested in it, including my fresh shrooms and my Koh Samui grow kit! Yippppeeee! It's a good thing the postman knocked twice, because this hippy was deep in dreamland, digging the scene in my sub-conscious. I woke up, ran downstairs and signed for it without even really waking up.
My plan was to jump back in the sack for a couple of hours, but my desire to open the package got the better of me and I ripped the sucker open. By then, there was no turning back, I was wide awake!
The fresh shrooms are in the fridge, I will take them this afternoon. I might just go for the entire 60 grams! Or I might wuss out and take 40-50....we'll see....
More news from the hippy! A local north London website has now linked to the hippy. Somehow they found me, this didn't come from me trying to force my link on them....wow!! A first!
It's called "Camden News" and here's the link! Now I used to work in Camden and it has some cool headshops that sell shrooms, so I do view the place with a certain affection. Having said that, it's full of crack heads and crack whores and muggers and thieves. Oh and worst of all, regional daytrippers at the weekends, who clog the streets and get in your way.
Don't get me wrong, I dig Camden, but be careful when you are there. I'm sure even Camdenians would agree that it can be a bit dodgy, though the council are trying to regenerate it and make it nicer.
The problem with Camden was apparently caused by the redevelopment of the King's Cross area. The link with the Channel Tunnel to France is being built, along with a new terminus and lots of new posh hotels. That means when all the street people were driven out, they went just up the road to Camden. Sorry, am I getting too local for my international audience.
London has a reasonable crack problem and Camden is one of the centers for it. There is even a website called Crack Cocaine in Camden which if you are interested, can give you more details. It is run by a local resident who got sick of all the crack dealing, whoring and smoking going on at his front door. He posts pictures and links and info about the problem on that site. The pix are very amusing as you can see just how blatant these people are and how little the cops can actually do about it. Oh and it wouldn't be amusing at all if it was my front stoop, or yours...
Crack is a serious problem, but no one wants to deal with it in a sensible way that would fix it. The real solution would frighten everyone too much. You want to get rid of crack dealers, crack whores and crack users on your street? Simple, make it legal, sell it in special shops, where it is OK to smoke it. Sell it as cheaply as it would cost in Colombia, which would mean a big habit would cost pennies day.
Gasp, you say, but hippy then loads of people would be using it....? Wake up and smell the cracksmoke, there are already loads of people using it! Why not make it safer for them, and if you make it cheaper, you make the world safer for us. If there was no profit in it, then the dealers would just melt away. If you didn't have to make loads of money to buy it, you wouldn't have to ho' your ass on the street giving BJs for a fiver! It would improve the quality of life in London for sure.
And what about Colombia? Imagine if coke was a normal product, purchased for normal prices, like coffee. You could regulate it, control it, and tax it. Colombia might become less of a lawless state.
Wait a second hippy, didn't a good friend of your's drop dead about a week ago, probably from the use of charlie? That's right hippy fan, but he was a serious user. And look, the shit's illegal already and that didn't stop him. It should be legal, most people can be can be responsible and use it in moderation, they don't need to be punished because of a minority who can't handle it.
If that was true, then booze would be illegal as well as one of the most traffic'd substances on the black market! Booze kills more people annually than all the other drugs do combined. Don’t believe me, do some homework!
Give the people what they want! Let us decide what we want to enjoy! If I want to kill myself with coke, or booze or anything, who is the government to say I can’t. The fuckers.
And if you got here from that Camden News site, I hope you are down with what I'm saying. Welcome either way, bookmark the hippy and come back often!
I spoke to my Mom and her part time home helper yesterday. I got some big fucking news that I am quite pleased with. My mother's home helper, who I will from now on refer to as "B" has asked my mother to move in with her family! My mother won't have to be alone anymore!! This is excellent news.
To recap for those of you just tuning in: About 30 months ago, my mother suffered a devastating stroke, which left her unable to walk or speak well. She has been dependent on others for almost everything. My father took care of her for the first year, before he was diagnosed with cancer. He then hired B, part time, to help out a couple of hours every Mon-Fri. When the cancer and related treatments got to be too much, he hired another woman, a Georgian national, who doesn't speak much English, to live in with them.
My father died almost 2 months ago. (It still hurts a lot) My mother had to decide what to do. She was considering anything from a nursing home to getting smaller house and keeping the Georgian lady.
Now my Mom might not be able to walk, or get to the toilet or speak well, but she is still sharp as a tack. She decided before my dad died that she wanted to move out of their house. They only moved into that house a few months before my mother had her stroke, so she is not very attached to it. Not that many memories, but almost all of them bad.
B has said all along that she would love to have my mother come live her and her family, but she didn't have the space. Now, she's come up with a plan. B is going to sell her home and buy a larger one, with a contribution from my mother. In return, my mom will have a place to live, with very nice people for the rest of her life and she won't have to pay a penny more for her care.
Her contribution will be substantial, but that's cool. I don't want anything from my Mom, I just want her to be as comfortable as possible for however long she might have left. B is a saint in my book who seems to genuinely care about my mother.
I am a total piece of shit, as much as I care, it doesn't translate into any real contribution to her life. I'm a voice on the telephone occasionally, I don't phone as much as I should. I haven't even seen her in over 2 years. I didn't even visit my father before he died.
This is upsetting me. I nearly cried when B told me all this yesterday, but they would have been tears of joy, not guilt. I am very happy that my mother will have a nice family to live with. B has a husband, 3 kids and B's mother lives with them as well - she is around my Mom's age, and they are already friends. They even have pets, a dog and cat.
It will take several months or more before all this happens, they need to sell both homes and find a third one to buy, but it is moving in the right direction already. Here's a yipppeee for you Mom! Yippppppppppeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
My mother asked me if I have spoken to my younger (now estranged) brother. I had to tell her "no", not in around four months. She asked why he is mad at me, I don't have a clue. She told me to phone him, but I can't. Dum de dum.
I'm still waiting anxiously for the announcement of the nominees for the BOB awards! This blog is under consideration for inclusion in the "Best Blog of the Year Award" and there will only be 10 nominees. I really, really want to make the shortlist. Love me, love me, love me!
And if you are one of the BOB judges, I bid you an especially warm and heartfelt welcome to my blog. This is my life as an open book, "...the hippy holds nothing back as he lives the hippy life, so you don't have to!" I can't say enough how impressed I am with the esteemed panel of judges that DW has assembled for this contest. I'm sure they possess the sort of insightful, critical ability necessary to select this blog as the best one in the whole world, ever! Love me, love me, love me, please!
Enough my shit, I've got to go start living that hippy life, which means a shower, some coffee, perhaps an M&S carrot and orange muffin (yum), then a load of laundry, and some tidying around the house. Then after a quick telephone chat with Mrs. Hippy in DC, I'm going to take my shrooms and commune with the Mushroom God! If the PC is being cooperative, perhaps I come back and make an utter shroomed fool of myself. Bet you can't wait for that!
Sunday, October 24, 2004
A very pleasant good morning/afternoon/evening (delete as appropriate) to you. It's the northlondonhippy, logged in, blogged on and ready to rock.
I'm at work (who was waiting for that?) and a bit bored. I've got 4 more hours left tonight, then I'm off for 4 days. That's yippppppeeee worthy, ain't it? Yippppeeeee
There's not much happening, we're all watching the film "Alfie". Not that new rubbish Jude Law version, but the original with Michael Caine. Great film...
Mrs. Hippy's not having much fun in Washington DC yet, though I'm hoping it will get better as time passes. She just needs to settle in a bit more. She will.
I'm hoping to party hard for the next few days and I believe shrooms may be in my future. I'm going to place an order on EDIT on Monday, which should arrive on Tuesday. I'll get some fresh shroomies as well as the grow kit that didn't come with my last order. Koh Samuis, which is a strain of p.cube that comes from Asia, Thailand to be precise.
Now, if you've not been to the blog before, you might not know about my love of magic mushrooms. I discovered over a year ago that here in the UK, fresh shrooms are legal and available all over the country. There are loads of sellers in Camden Market as well as online.
I'm going to repeat myself a bit. Shrooms are by far one of the best drugs I've ever taken. Besides being legal, they are strong and lots of fun. The come-up is smooth, the trip lasts quite a while and there is no come-down or hang-over. And remember, the hippy puts the FUN in FUNgus!
I've grown them before, it's really easy with a kit. Again, you can buy them online or at your local headshop. It's the cheapest way to end up with lots of lovely fresh shrooms!
If I really get the kit by Tuesday, it will take 10 days to 2 weeks before I have my first flush. Then it will really be party time!
I'll probably order a few extra bits as well, including some blunt wraps. They're like the outter skin of a cigar you use to make a big fuckoff spliff with. Yummm
I'll also probably do the fresh shrooms on Tuesday, which will be a very pleasant way to spend my day. Shrooming is relaxing...
And of course, I'll write about the growing and the shrooming here because that's what this hippy does.
It's driving me mad, but there was something I wanted to write about tonight and now that I'm here, I can't remember what it was. I guess it couldn't have been that important. I'm sure it will come back to me.
Anyway, this concludes another episode from "Tales of the hippy". Tune in next week for more exciting adventures.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
I'm still here, still bored, there's about three hours left on the hippy-departure countdown clock. Tick tock, tick fucking tock.
The problem with the kind of work I do is that when the world is quiet, I've got nothing to do. This has been the case all night.
I've just spent some time perusing the other blogs up for the "best weblog" award in the BOBs.
For those of you just tuning in, the BOBs are the Best of the Blog awards which are being run by Deutsche-Welle in Germany. This blog has been entered and this hippy really wants to win one. Love me, love me, love me!
There are 597 blogs competing for 10 finalist slots. I have a better chance of retiring to the planet Mars than I do winning one of these awards. I can but hope and dream.
In my favour, most of the blogs are not in English, this could help me. Many of the blogs are far more interesting than this one, that won't do me any favours.
I'm the first to admit that my blog is not the most visually impressive one you'll encounter online. That's actually an artistic decision on my part, I wanted a simple look, because this blog is about words and thoughts more than anything else. Also, I don't know dick about HTML, so I couldn't make it look better if I tried. I could probably make it look a lot worse, but where's the logic in that?
I'm guessing I've got about as good a chance as anyone. And I'm sure the BOB judges have excellent taste, are keen talent spotters and will know a cool happening blog when they read one...specifically, this one!
For those of you visiting the hippy for the first time, welcome to my blog!
The hippy is the "most shroomtastic stoner on the internet". Plus a whole lot more!
The hippy is:
Smart, funny, clever, cool, egotistical, needy, stoned, middle-aged, short, fat, bald, imaginative, truthful, honest and well hung.
Ok, maybe not well-hung. Slightly better than average if you must know.
The hippy writes about:
Anything, everything, the hippy life, drugs, work, music, pop-culture, current events, politics, injustice, his dysfunctional family, how to get rich...
I don't actually write about getting rich. If I knew how, I would be rich and I wouldn't tell you how to do it, would I? I sure as hell wouldn't be wasting my time writing a blog. I'd be partying with Paris Hilton and Britney and both of them would be taking turns fellating me and french kissing each other.
The hippy is based in:
fabulous north London, which is where the hippy's lair is located
The hippy writes:
around 5 entries or more per week, has been running for 7 months, has over 120 entries in his blog. Lots of them are funny, see for yourself!
The hippy lives the hippy life so you don't have to! Just think of the time and energy that must save you! Not to mention all those drugs he takes, which means you can stay sober if you so choose. Why would anyone choose to stay sober? It boggles the mind!
I've tried to promote this blog in the past, mostly to disastrous results. I even tried to give my own car away to one lucky hippyfan. It didn't work. Check out the "BEST" of the hippy if you don't believe me.
Check out the "BEST" of the hippy anyway, that's where all my really cool entries end up. And keep watching, I'll be adding even more to it very soon!
Mrs. Hippy is now in Washington DC, where she will be for at least 2 more weeks, perhaps even longer. I'm missing her, a lot. She'll be working every day while she's there. I hope she's OK, I won't be able to speak to her as much as I want to. Maybe she'll have time to check my blog. If she does, "hi honey!".
I've been surfing the net a bit, even that's boring me. I'm going to spend some time later looking over the BOBs website, to see what the competition is like. There's so many blogs out there, perhaps I'll find an interesting one. Of course, none will be as thought-provoking as my blog. As if.
I've just spent some time reading Salam Pax's recent entries in his blog, on his 1st trip to DC. The series of 7 articles was published in my favourite UK newspaper, The Guardian. Here's a link to the series. You might have heard of him, he's the Baghdad Blogger and made a name for himself in the lead up to Gulf War 2. He got himself a book deal on the strength of his blog. Anyone want a hippy book, I'd be willing to accept a highly paid commission to write one!
He was a definite influence on me when I created this blog. He received a lot of attention, but then he really had something to say. He still does, check it out. The Washington DC visit series is very entertaining.
My other blogging influence was Belle du Jour, but she pulled the plug on her blog last month. It's still online, though, if you want to have a look, here's another link. She got a book deal too.
Sorry, just had a bit of a break and a wander out of the building, one of my colleagues needed a packet of smokes and didn't want to venture outside to the petrol station alone. Don't blame 'em, it's 2am in London and you don't wanna be wandering the streets on your own.
There are now nearly 2,000 references to "northlondonhippy" on Google. How cool is that? They're all probably as a result of this very blog, but hey...I score fairly well on GoogleWar now!
I'm still bored and writing this hasn't really helped. How the hell am I suppose to win an award for the best blog of the year when I can't even entertain myself?
Friday, October 22, 2004
You might notice a new ad linking my site to the BOB site on the upper right side of this page. If you click on it, you will be taken to the BOB website, where you can find plenty of details on the competition as well as other sites hoping to pip me to 1st prize. Please, give them your support, even if they beat me. They probably will anyway, so why worry?
I've logged into Blogger early tonight, relative to my work schedule. I've still got about 8 hours left here tonight, though it's looking like a blissfully peaceful Friday night into Saturday morning. The downside to a quiet night is that time will again be moving slowly.
I've been checking the site statistics a bit more regularly, there certainly are a lot more of you dropping by to visit. This is a very good thing. I've had my best week ever for visitors and page impressions. I'm sure this is a direct result of being listed on the BOB site.
I really, really REALLY want to be included in this contest! It's a requirement of the hippy ego! Love me, love me, love me!
It's also cool because I can see from the site meter how you found me. A lot of you do unusual searches on Google which point you to the hippy!
All I can say is if you found this weblog, well done you! Bookmark me, come back often, I'll try to amuse you...
Or as I've said in my hippy PR blurb, "...he'll make you laugh, he'll make you think, he'll make you wish you were a hippy too!"
Sorry, too many interruptions now, I'll try to come back later. I thought this was a good time to blog, but I was wrong!
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
But that's because I have just discovered something exciting that I have to share with you all. The hippy has been nominated for an award!
That's right, Deutche-Welle in Germany is having a "Best of the Blogs" competition, known as "The BOBs". The northlondonhippy is up for "Best Weblog". Wow!
I don't think I have a chance in hell of winning anything, but it's nice to know I'm being considered. Don't believe me, see for yourself right:
Deutche-Welle (DW) for those of you who don't know is Germany's version of BBC World Service (radio and tv) and broadcasts around the world in German and English (and probably other languages as well).
They are on SKY Digital in the UK, and on many cable and satellite providers in the US and around the world. While I was in Corfu recently, DW-TV was one of 2 channels broadcasting in English in my hotel room and I watched a reasonable amount of it. They produce quality news and documentaries.
The actual voting doesn't begin until the first of November, at this point their panel of judges is considering entries for inclusion in the next phase, which is voting for the winner. They will pick 10 entries in each of the 22 categories.
I'm certain the judges are people with definitive style and taste and excellent critical skills. Without a doubt, they are the finest panel of judges to ever peruse weblogs in this history of the internet.
Ok, I’m ass-kissing a little, but if that doesn't get me to the final ten, how about offers of bribes, drugs, or sex? Is there anyone you need "taken out"? I'd even consider providing my contract services for free, if I can just get on that shortlist! I need this man, I really do. Love me, love me, love me!
In short, there's nothing this hippy won't do to promote this blog! Go on, try me!
I'll keep you all posted on the progress, if I make the short list (and pigs fly), I'll give you all details on how to vote HIPPY!
I'd ask you all for a yippppeeee to celebrate my inclusion in the contest, but I need to let you in on a little secret, I got into this contest through self-nomination. Don't worry, I won't do it again. I already wear glasses, and if I continue to self-nominate, I might just go blind!
Usually, I have at least some sort of idea of what I'm going to start out saying.
I think I'm here now just to put something on the top of the blog that doesn't involve death and depression.
I'm not as down today as I have been. I've already got some laundry on the go and I might even stroll up to my local high street for a spot of shopping, if the weather doesn't get too awful.
Mrs. Hippy leaves on her trip tomorrow. I'm really going to miss her, a lot. Tonight's our last night together before she goes, so I am cooking up an extra-special dinner. Well, pasta, salad and maybe garlic bread. It's one of Mrs. H's favourites.
I'm working a lot while she is away, so that will fill lots of the time.
I didn't get a shroom kit on the go, so I won't have any homegrown to enjoy, but I expect I'll be doing some shrooming as well. Now that's a fun way to fill up some time!
I hope to do some writing as well and not just this hippy-drivel!
It's not really drivel, is it? That's up to you, my astutely cool and smart hippyfans!
Let's face it, if you're reading this blog, you are part of the internet elite. You are the coolest of the cool, the hippest of the hipsters. It takes brains, guts and a genuine love of truth to keep coming back to this blog. Dammit!
And if you read this blog, I still want to hear from YOU! I want your feedback, good, bad or indifferent... Go on, email the hippy!
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Well, if you consider doing the washing-up "a few things" in which case I've only done one thing. I guess a shower and getting dressed don't count.
I still feeling down about my friend, but I spoke to his best friend this morning. I got a few more details and found out there would be a funeral and a wake next week. My friend's current employers (who gave him a very nice on-air tribute yesterday - he worked on a TV show) are even putting some money behind the bar. He would have liked that.
I'm readying my usual "I don't do funerals" excuse, but still feel like I should make an exception and attend. Put it this way, I want to go, I just don't know if I can cope with it. There will be 100s of people, he was a popular guy, I wouldn't be missed at all.
I'll decide next week.
I don't know. It's hit me harder than it should have. Initially I don't think it did, but when I saw the tribute on tv yesterday, I guess it made it real(er) to me.
I just don't have that much to say today, sorry for wasting your time. Go read some of the "BEST" of the hippy or just click on a random day down the right side of this page. You never know what you might find!
Monday, October 18, 2004
I found out an old friend and colleague of mine dropped dead of a heart attack on Saturday. From what I've been told it was very sudden and quick.
A quick death is a good thing, he probably didn't even know what was happening to him. We should all be so lucky when our time comes.
I hadn't seen him in just over 2 years, but then I haven't seen anyone else either really.
I'd known him around 10 years, which in hippy-terms is a lengthy time indeed. We worked together, drank together, partied together, chased women together, even travelled together...at one point he was one of my best mates.
He'd become a father twice in the last couple of years, he'd settled down with the mother of his children. He was only around 50 years old, which kids, ain't really that old at all.
A sudden death is hardest to deal with, as there is no time to prepare yourself. I was only mentioning to a friend of mine last week that I wanted to get in touch with him. Too late now, hippy.
I'm numb, dumbfounded but not all together surprised; he didn't live the healthiest lifestyle. He enjoyed a drink, a bacon butty or two and he really loved chips but most of all he really dug cocaine.
You don't often get the hippy being negative about drugs, so pay close attention.
My friend was a proper, old school cokehead. He did charlie the way I smoke weed, from the moment he woke up straight through until bedtime. He always had a runny or bloody nose, sometimes you'd even clock a bit of powder falling out of his nostrils during the day at work. He was hardcore.
He did lots, he did it often, I think it killed him. I'm almost certain it did.
If you wanna do coke now and then that’s your business, but anything in excess will fuck you right up, especially charlie. It's heavy duty on your system and heart attacks are not an unknown or uncommon side-effect. Just drop by any A&E on a Saturday night and you’ll see what I mean.
My friend probably did it daily for maybe 15-20 years. That’s serious abuse, it's bound to catch up with you.
I'll admit, I did coke with him on countless occasions, so I'm the last one to preach about not doing it at all. But I'll give you one word: moderation.
A little now and then probably won't kill you, but a lot all the time most likely will. I haven't had any in just over 2 years and though the thought of having some does make me salivate somewhat, I decided a back then I was off it for good. My friend's death only reinforces that pledge.
I wish I could say that I'd seen him recently, but no, that didn't happen. I did try to stay in touch with him, but not very successfully. Of all the people I've known, worked with, hung out with in the last years, he's easily one of my favourites. I would have said that about before he died; I'm not saying it now just because he's gone.
I'm getting really tired of writing about death. I'm getting really tired of people I love and care about dying. I'm just getting tired. The words “life is too short” take on a special meaning whenever someone younger dies. Make the most of everyday, and yes I should fucking take my own goddamn advice.
Here's to you my friend, I learned so much from you, professionally and personally. You brought loads of laughs to everyone you knew; you were always at the center of the fun! If there's a heaven, you'll be behind the bar with your dad, serving up pints and short and jokes and songs. You touched a lot of people's lives here and we're all better for knowing you. Peace, man.
It's not as dead as last night, which is always a good thing, time will move at a normal rate this evening. Thank fuck for that.
I've been thinking about an old friend of mine tonight. I don't think I've written about him here in the blog, but for reasons that will be come clearer, I thought I would tell you about him now.
I should say right up front, that he's not human. The friend I am talking about is Ginger Cat.
As I've mentioned before, Mrs. Hippy and I have 2 cats of our own. In addition, we get many cat visitors from the neighbourhood. That's what happens when you have a cat flap and a bottomless dish constantly filled with cat food. Word gets around.
Many of the cats who drop by run away if I approach them, but not all. Some are friendly and realise that I like cats and they make friends with me. This was the case with Ginger Cat.
Now I first noticed Ginger Cat a few years ago as I would see him dive for the flap whenever I went into the kitchen when he was there. This went on for months, but I would always go to the kitchen door and look out for him after his speedy exit, to in some way let him know that I wasn't the enemy.
He became a regular visitor, sneaking in for food whenever he could. I slowly realised that he was homeless and practically feral.
He'd start showing up earlier and earlier in the evenings, sometimes even during the day. He took over the garden and used to sleep out there for hours at a time. I didn't realise it, but he was making my home, his home.
It got to the point where if I was in the kitchen, making dinner and he appeared, he would sit by the flap until I finished, then come in and have a feast. When I knew he was watching me, I used to make a point of filling the bowl with food, so he could see I was putting it there especially for him.
On a couple of occasions, I came downstairs in the morning to find him sleeping on a sofa in the living room, but as soon as he saw me, he was straight out the door.
I should describe my ginger friend to you; a huge tomcat, totally ginger, but an absolute giant. The first time I got a proper look at him, through my kitchen door, I could see that he had recently been in a fight. We have foxes in my part of north London, so it is possible he tangled with one as I can't imagine another cat besting him in a scrap. He had a large chunk of flesh missing from his scalp, which was raw and pink and one of his ears had a large slit in it. The poor guy.
I don't remember exactly how it happened, but one night when I went into the kitchen, he didn't run outside. I was pleasantly shocked, it meant he was getting used to me. Instead, he ran to the flap and sat very near it, in case I did something unpredictable and he had to flee.
This was progress.
Eventually, when I entered the kitchen, he would even stay at the dish and continue eating, though it took a leap of trust on his part not to run when I got between him and the cat flap. He was learning that I was his friend.
I was able to get quite close to him and checked that the wounds on his head were healing OK. I didn't dare touch him though, at least not yet.
This continued for quite a while and I always kept my ears peeled for the sound of the flap late at night, so I could go and say "hi" to my ginger friend.
Finally, I decided to take a chance, one evening while he was munching away, I put my hand out and stroked him. He turned from the dish and looked up at me, but didn't run away. From that point on, I was able to pet him while he ate, but as soon as he had his fill, he would turn tail and run.
We got closer, bit by bit. My presence in the kitchen wouldn't stop him from coming in and it seemed he made a point of slipping through the flap whenever I was around.
I knew I had finally gained his trust and friendship when one night he actually rubbed against my leg to ask me to put food down for him. This would have at least 18 months or more after I first saw him. I was so pleased, I think I might have even cried tears of joy.
If you know cats, you'll know they are very discriminating when it comes to people and they don't always warm to everyone, but I'd finally made friends with my ginger pal.
One night, just over a year ago, I saw him eating at the dish, but he was not breathing properly, his breath seemed shallow and laboured. I checked him out and saw a bit of dried blood on his nostrils and around his mouth. He wasn't well at all.
It was just starting to get chilly out, so I laid a towel down on the kitchen floor, in case he wanted someplace warmer to sleep. He took me up on my offer and curled up on it straight-away.
The next day, he was still in my kitchen, his condition seemed a lot worse. As I've said, he's practically a wild cat and I was pretty sure he was homeless. I didn't know what to do.
Mrs. Hippy suggested I phone the RSPCA for advice. They were really nice and said he sounded quite sick and they offered to come collect him to have him checked over by a vet.
I would have taken him to my vet, if I could have, but there was no way in hell he was going to let me pick him up and put him in a cat carrier, so I said yes to the RSPCA.
The van arrived a short while later and the nice RSPCA guy came in. He agreed that my ginger friend was not very healthy. He put on some heavy gloves and then had to trap the cat and force him into a cage. GingerCat didn't like this at all, you could tell he was not used to being handled by people and he put up a helluva fight. The RSPCA guy took my details and said I could ring to see how he is later in the day.
Now I recognised this RSPCA guy from the Rolf Harris "Animal Hospital" tv show from the BBC, he was actually one of the featured field guys from the hospital in Finsbury Park.
I told the RSPCA guy that once they had checked him over, I wanted him back. He was my cat now.
I rang later that day, it was a Friday and was told they didn't have much to report. They had run some tests on him and they wouldn't have the results until the following Monday.
I rang on Saturday and Sunday to see how he was, they said he wasn't eating or drinking much.
On Monday I phoned, but it was too early for them to have the results of his tests. Again, I let them know that I wished him to be returned to me. I was missing him very much.
Later that day, they rang me. Ginger Cat was very sick, he had feline aids. Oh shit.
I spoke to a very nice veterinary nurse who explained Ginger's condition to me. Basically, feline aids is different from human aids, it is transmitted through biting, not sexual contact. There's no treatment for the condition, though the symptoms could be treated on a case by case basis. At this point, they had Ginger sedated and were preparing to remove his canine teeth, so if he did bite another cat, the risk of transmission was slimmer.
We discussed the risks to my other cats, sharing food and water etc. While the risks were minimal, there was a slight risk to them, but nothing to be overly concerned about. The main problem would have been administering medication; with Ginger being feral, it would have been next to impossible.
I spoke to this nurse for a good 45 minutes, and it was becoming very clear to me that their advice was not to let him come home to me. They were advocating the more humane option, which was to put the little guy down.
The decision was mine and it was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. I loved this cat, but I knew if I brought him home, it would have been for selfish reasons. His quality of life would have sucked and he would have probably suffered a long, slow and draw out death.
I made my decision and told them to let him go. Since he was already under anaesthetic, his slumber would be extended to eternity.
I started getting choked up before I even got off the phone. I could sense the vet nurse closing down to my emotions. I guess she needed to protect herself as if you worked in an RSPCA hospital, you couldn't get involved on that level.
I was overcome with raw emotions, I collapsed on the floor bawling. I was ready for him to come home to me, I was ready to nurse him back to full health. I didn't really prepared myself for this possibility. My little ginger friend was gone.
I suppose I didn't realise until he got sick that Ginger Cat was my cat. I was probably the only friend he had in the world. When he got sick, who did he come to? Where did he feel safest? And how did I reward him for that trust? By sending him for treatment, but ultimately sending him to his death.
I struggled with my decision for a while, but deep down I knew I did the right thing. It would have been selfish and cruel to spare him his sweet release from this world. I did the humane thing, I followed the RSPCA's advice.
It's almost a year ago to the day that I bid farewell to my ginger friend which is why he is on my mind tonight. I still miss loads. Sometimes, when I'm in the kitchen late at night, I catch a glimpse of another cat outside the flap and for just a split second, I think it's him. Then I remember he's gone and never coming back.
I was as good a friend to him as I could be, but I still feel somewhat guilty about the outcome. Intellectually I know I did the right thing for him, but emotionally it still hurts.
I think I cried more for my ginger friend when he died than I did for my own father...what does that say about me? (That's not really fair to me, because Ginger's death was unexpected, I had months to come to grips with my father's demise, but then I'm always hardest on myself.)
Here's to you my ginger friend, if there's a cat heaven, I hope you've got 1st class accommodation, because this world didn't really do you any favours. At least you had one friend who loved you in the end.
And that ends another depression-inspiring tale of disease and death from your favourite northlondonhippy. Remember, if this tale made you feel down, you can always take some drugs to cheer yourself up - they always work for me!
Sunday, October 17, 2004
I'm sitting here thinking, my thoughts are dark. I wonder about the future, my future. My past has never been an indication of things to come.
I'm feeling down, feeling lost, feeling like my feet don't really reach the ground.
I've surfed all my usual sites, read all of Sunday's newspapers and needless to say, I've completed all my work as well.
If you watch a clock closely enough, you can actually slow it down. I can feel time turning to treacle, all thick and sticky and just barely moving.
My father has been very much on my mind. I've been thinking about the last time I saw him, over 2 years ago.
It was just before I left to fly back to London. This was only a couple of months after my mother had her stroke, she was still in re-hab at the time.
I remember pushing my mother's wheelchair to the reception area of the facility, my father was there too. He came outside when my older half-brother came to collect me. He watched me load my suitcase into the car, he gave me a hug and I was on my way.
I didn't know that day it would be the last time I would see my dad. You never know these things at the time. I remember my eyes welling up with tears as we drove out of the carpark, perhaps part of me knew it would be the last time.
Whenever I saw my parents, goodbyes were always handled as if they were the last visit. It was a theme in my melodramatic family. That time, it proved to be true.
Now my father is gone and I'll never see him again. I miss him. A lot.
These are not thoughts I should be allowing myself to have while at work. I get too emotional.
What's it like for other people? I wonder about that a lot, what's it like inside someone else's head. Do people's thought processes mirror mine or is my mind unique? They say no 2 people respond to the same situation in the same way, but is that really true.
What's it like inside your mind? Are your thoughts cluttered? Do they flow rapidly like mine? I think that's why I smoke so much dope, to slow my mind down so I can make more sense of life.
Life doesn't really make sense to me at all. It's just so damn pointless. Most of us sleepwalk through it anyway, myself included.
When you are aware of time, it certainly slows down, but the reverse is true as well. When you forget about time, when you don't pay attention, then it flies by rapidly.
Have you ever blinked and realised an entire month or year has just disappeared? Sometimes I think the last 20 years have done just that. There's no second chance, once time goes, you don't get it back.
They say as you get older, time moves more quickly. I'm finding that's so.
When I was a kid, summer vacation from school was 10 weeks long. I can remember thinking that was such a long time. Now, ten weeks is nothing; ten weeks is a flash of lightening. Years don't seem to last as long as they used to, even though they're made up of the same number of 24 hour days. It's my perception that's changed.
Most people my age have either attained their goals or given up trying. You'd think with everything I've been through in the last few years, my spirit would be crushed, my dreams dashed. You'd be wrong.
I still have hopes and desires that I wish to fufill one day. I may not always be working towards them, but I haven't given them up.
But time is working against me, my mortality is more than just an abstract concept. I can genuinely feel in my bones that time is not my friend.
What's a hippy to do? I wish I knew.
Don't give up on my dreams, keep hoping tomorrow will be better, fool myself in a million different ways that there really is some point to it all. That's kept me going this long, why give up on it now?
There's a worrying pattern developing in my blogging habits, I keep making these pointless entries while bored at work.
But are they pointless? Certainly anytime I can be bothered to log in and type up something, there must be a point. Even if it is only to fill up some down-time.
Mrs. Hippy leaves for her trip in a few days, she'll be gone at least 2 weeks, possibly more. I'll miss her a lot, but at least I have plenty of work on to fill the time. I'm also going to make an effort to catch up with some friends, that will fill up some time as well.
I see a theme developing here, about filling time and killing time. Is that all I really do?
I suppose it is all many of us do. It hardly makes for an inspired existence.
I'm planning on jumping back into my novel in the next week or so. That will fill up some time. I've thrown out everything I've written (again) and am planning on starting from scratch. Who knows if I'll actually get anywhere this time, but send me your positive vibes so that I will.
I'm feeling inspired, I'm going to try to be disciplined, I'd like to actually finish it. Perhaps I will.
I can't remember the last time I provided any hippy-picks, I haven't really been shrooming much or watching any music videos. I need to blow off some steam, so perhaps in the next week or so, there will be some serious shrooming. Here's hoping.
I haven't really been commenting much on current events lately either. I guess I'm just bored with the world and can't be bothered. I should really make more of an effort.
Don't worry, it's just a hippy-funk, a hippy-low. My commitment to this blog is an fierce as ever. Stick with the hippy, all will be well.
How about just one little yippeeee then? I could really use it!
Friday, October 15, 2004
The US presidential election campaign has gotten interesting. Naturally, like most of the world (but only 1/2 of likely American voters), I'm supporting John Kerry.
To be honest, I'd support just about anyone against George W (for Waste of Space) Bush. I'd even support a turd over Bush.
I watched a good chunk of the 3rd debate live and Bush is a buffoon, he's the village idiot, he's, oh for fuck sake, semi-retarded. Sorry, I'm getting a bit exasperated by just how stupid he is.
So how dumb do you have to be to vote for him? We'll find out on November 3rd, when the ballots have been counted and they declare a winner.
Or will they? Is it going to be a re-run of the 2000 election? Maybe it will again be months before we know?
One of the bigger changes since then is the introduction of computer based voting in loads of locations. But check this out, the companies who manufacture these things have kept the innards a secret, there is no way to verify that the machines even do what they say they do by any independent observers.
It gets better, there is no paper back-up for these voting machines, so no way to do a recount.
But best of all, the head of the largest company involved in these new machines said in a speech that he would do everything in his power to see Bushie win. I can't be bothered to look this up, but trust me, it's true. If you're clever with Google, I bet you can find it, it was in the last 2 years.
So I have no faith in the American election system. The election will most likely not be free and fair.
Unless Kerry wins, then it was very fair, got it?
That's the thing, do you dare dream that Kerry stands a chance? The current polls show the race very close, but so what? The only poll that counts is the one they are going to COOK on Tuesday November 2nd. It looked good for Gore last time....
Hang on, Gore actually won last time and look where it got him.
Kerry doesn't stand a real chance. They'll just steal it again and Americans will go back to sleep.
If you think the first Bush Jr administration was bad, imagine the damage he will do in his second. They say a president's first 4 year term is solely to make sure he gets a 2nd 4 year term, then he can do all the really cruel shit that he has wanted to do all along.
Abortion, say g'bye, welfare, bye-bye, universal health care, see ya. But say hello to bigger tax cuts for the rich, more poverty, more war and if you are really fucking lucky, a little taste of Armageddon. A little will go a long way.
If you have a vote in the American election, use it wisely. If you're a complete fucking asshole, vote Bush. It may not matter, the election might be a big joke like last time, but at least you'll know you tried.
And look, I know some of you reading this are Americans, so just do what the hippy tells you and vote for Kerry. I'll get you really high if you do! Americans still secretly dig drugs, don't they?
I had a look at some site statistics for this blog and the hippy homepage. Since I added the sitemeter counter to the page, I discovered that you could log into their site and see a breakdown of all sorts of info my special visitors.
There's a lot more page impressions than I expected. Seems you little devils look at several pages when you visit and the counter only shows your arrival on the main page. A lot of you come in from other blogs, quite a few stumble in from weird Google searches, looking for things other than me. You're spread all over the world, from America, Australia, all over Europe, Africa, and even Asia.
A little less than 1/2 of you seem to use an Apple computer, which is higher than the general population, which is mostly PC based. I guess I attract the real hipsters!
Hardly any of you sign my guest book or leave me any comments and I rarely get emails from any of you. Don’t be so shy, I exist for your pleasure and enjoyment.
The sitemeter counter hasn't been on here that long, so it's not a true indication of overall visitors. I think I only added it a couple of months ago. Considering how little I actually promote the blog, it's amazing anyone find me.
I have emailed the Guardian newspaper website a couple of times, demanding that they feature me. My last attempt, I asked who I had to sleep with there to get a mention. I've had no reply. What are they all neutered asexuals there or something? Wake up and feature the hippy, you fuckers! I’d get you stoned too, if you feature me. I smoke really good dope, I’d fry your brains. In a good way, of course.
And let's not forget the "Win the hippymobile contest!" which died a slow painful death. Perhaps if I were offering a brand new Mercedes, I would have had more entries.
But that would have missed the point, it was MY personal car, my ride and I was ready to give it to you just to promote this weblog.
Maybe I need to offer up a kidney, or a pint of blood as a prize. Would the media feature me then? I'm not that desperate. Ok, I'm sqeamish, so forget that entirely.
Does anyone have any suggestions or shall I just toil away in relative obscurity?
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Yes, I'm stoned. I'm almost always stoned. If everyone were always as high as I am, there would be no more war. People wouldn't remember why they were fighting in the first place. There'd still be world hunger though, because everyone would have the munchies. And there'd be poverty too, because of all those expensive impulse purchases. Why only yesterday, I was so outta my head that I bought a (fill in your own hilarious punch line here!)
Maybe it's not time for the blog to go interactive just yet...
Actually, things have gotten a bit more dynamic here in hippy-heaven...
I've got some new comments in my guest book and a couple of comments here on the blog as well. Well dip my balls in chocolate and call me a pastry!
Big up's to "Dude" and "Shashank"! Cheers guys. I hope you bookmarked me and you are sending the link to all your friends. Or enemies. Or strangers. Anyone, really, please!
It's cool, I'll keep blogging my life away whether anyone reads it or not. Don't worry, there's no end to the northlondonhippy currently in sight.
The more I write in this fucking blog, the more I want it to be read. I think my ego requires more frequent feedings than I could have ever imagined.
But not so much that I'm sharing it with anyone I know in real life. Outside of Mrs. Hippy and my younger (now estranged) brother, no one who knows me knows I do this.
Part of me does want to share its existence. Sometimes I really want to send various friends and acquaintances to this page, but ultimately I'm a pussy and I don't do it.
Just imagine it, if I had hippy business cards…
But I don't do it because there's too much of who I really am in this blog. I let myself run unchecked, uncorrected, uncensored and unbelievably full of shit. Actually, I probably put even more of myself into this blog than I do in my real life.
In real life, I go out of my way to be invisible, unnoticed and for the most part I succeed. At work, being there for 6 months (6 months!) now, I feel more comfortable, so I show more of my true self. I still keep my head down, but I do speak up when I feel I have something to contribute, which happens more and more often these days.
I was certainly out of my shell last week, at my "work-related stay in a fancy London hotel". I mixed with people, I spoke up and I was charming, entertaining and generally fun to be with. I don't say this in a conceited way, I'm making this judgment based upon the "flood" of emails I've received from people I met last week.
Ok, they didn't say "charming", I added that myself, but then I can be very charming when I want to or need to be.
My father could be exceedingly charming, one of my older half-brothers as well. And my younger (now-estranged) brother could be especially charming too. It runs in my family I think.
Am I charming you now? Can I borrow 100K? Oh, ok. I guess I haven't charmed you enough. Yet.
Though I can be charming, never forget that I can also be a complete and utter cunt when need be. And yeah, I could kill if I had to, especially if it was to protect someone I love. Or if I really wanted 100K. Still don't wanna give it to me?
God hippy, where are you going with this one?
I'm just feeling a touch manic this morning, things are cool at work, my finances ain't too shabby, I'm smoking a juicy joint, I'm feeling all social and personable. Anyone want to join me for a bloody mary? Or two? Or ten?
Don't worry, I'm sure this won't last, I'll be dutifully dour again in no time.
I think not. If I shake it, I just might break it.
It's bad enough my spirit is broken, at least my body's intact.
I talking utter shite, but it's 6:20am, what do you expect.
I'm at work, no surprise there. I'm finishing in about an hour. That I can deal with and I'm not back for about 60 hours. Ok, 2 and 1/2 days, I return on Friday night.
I love working nights, though I know they are not suitable for everyone. It's my anti-social nature which causes me to prefer working anti-social hours. It would nearly kill me to go back to a normal Monday to Friday, 9 to 5, kinda life. So I'm not going to, at least not anytime soon.
I just re-read the letter I wrote to my father (NLH 3/10/04) and it choked me up, just now, at my desk. Not smart, not clever, not me in control.
I'm still not sure I get it, that's he's gone. I don't think I've let myself really feel it, I don't even know if I can. Intellectually I understand, but emotionally, well I guess I am too detached. Who knows, it's all psychobabble nonsense. I just miss him.
Work and death, tell me this entry shouldn't be on the "BEST" of the hippy page. You don't have to tell me, I already know.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
I have no real excuse, except my prevailing laziness. Plus I was recovering from last week's heavy drinking. I just can't take it like I used to.
Went out with a mate of mine on Sunday night, in a much posher part of north London than where I reside. It's an amazing difference, just a couple tube stops from my lair and it's a whole new world. You could even walk around after dark without fear of death. Grand!
I'm working loads this week, 5 nights out of 7. Actually, my workload for the next 2 months, through to the end of November is reasonably heavy. My bank account and I don't mind though. I wanna buy a car and a new PC soon-ish, the car is especially urgent as I'm missing having a hippymobile.
The really big news is that Mrs. Hippy has got some work-related travel coming up, several weeks or more abroad. She's leaving early next week, it was unexpected and sprung on her without much notice. It means this hippy will be on his own for a good chunk of time.
This is a bad thing, especially following my renewed social activity last week, but I will try to behave. Obviously I'll be missing the missus very VERY much, but the opportunity to be a part-time pisshead might be difficult to resist.
It will be more than a bit lonely for me. I'll probably just keep things quiet and low-key, though I might venture out occasionally to catch up with old friends.
Though if I know me, I'll be enjoying plenty of takeaways as well as some serious shrooming while she's away.
Speaking of shrooms! My EDIT order from a couple of weeks ago was missing the Koh Samui grow kit. Don't worry, the credited my account for the omission, but it means I need to get one on the go ASAP. Perhaps I'll scoot down to Camden one day this week and pick one up. The sooner I get it started, the sooner I'll be hip-deep into some strong, fresh shroomies. Excellent!
Otherwise, things are cool, it's all smooth sailing.
Friday, October 08, 2004
Ok, that might be asking for too much. Then how about just little yippppeee for the hippy?
Thanks, I needed that.
I'm back in my lair in fabulous north London, following 3 nights in a "top" London hotel. No, Mrs. Hippy didn't kick me out, it was a work-related stay. You still shouldn't ask...
I'm exhausted as the social activities connected to the event, specifically staying way too late in the hotel bar and getting up too early.
For those of you who don't live in the UK, we have some very antiquated licensing laws for bars and pubs. What that means in real terms is that most places that serve booze have to close at 11pm.
No, I am not joking.
When I used to socialise in NYC, you didn't even leave your home to go out until that time, so it was a bit of a shock to me when I landed here.
Anyway, certain establishments are eligible for late licenses on the basis that they serve food, have entertainment, or in the case of my hotel, they could serve hotel guests until 4am.
So in-between the pub I visited last night and a stretch at the late-opening hotel bar, I found myself in a down-market Tapas bar in the West End that was open until 1am. The food was tapas, naturally, though I remained on strictly liquid refreshments - Margaritas if you must know. Good ones, and lots of them too. Hic.
An eldery gentleman playing a Casio keyboard provided the entertainment. His repertoire consisted of mediocre hits from the 80's and the sort of Spanish music you would hear on holiday. It was godawful, but people were actually dancing to it. Not me, this hippy don't dance. Besides, there isn't enough booze in the whole wide world that could have gotten me to dance to that rubbish.
I actually had quite a good time last night, though an extended altercation with the hotel staff nearly put a damper on my evening. Luckily I'm a tenacious cunt and it ended up costing them a bit of cash. I'll elaborate on this amusing tale when I have the energy, but right now I feel the need for a nap.
Damn, I'm getting old and feeling it too.
Monday, October 04, 2004
After yesterday's emotional funfest, I'll be taking a very brief break from the blog.
Ok, that's not strictly true, but I'll actually be back on Friday. So it's only a four-day break, sue me.
I'm away for something work-related. By away, I mean I won't be home, but I will be in London. It wasn't my idea.
But fear not, the hippy will return at the end of the week. Until then why not check out the "BEST" of the hippy...! I'm sure you could think of lots of reasons not to, you don’t need me to list them.
Sunday, October 03, 2004
You've been gone a month today, I'm still missing you very much. Part of me can't believe you are really gone, part of me can't comprehend it.
I know I let you down in the last year or so of your life and I hope you know how sorry I am for that. I hope you know how much I love you. I think you did before you died.
You made it to 83, you lasted far longer than anyone expected you to. You survived World War II, heart attacks, diabetes, open-heart surgery, but it was the cancer that got you in the end.
You had a good, comfortable life for the most part, though your start in life was less than ideal. I can't imagine how hard it was for you, growing up during the depression, knowing your mother died a couple of days after your birth, knowing your father abandoned you to another family.
You didn't find out until later that your father sent letters and money to you for a short while when you were a child. You were told he disappeared long before he really did. Maybe his intentions towards you were better than you realised. Maybe you're with him now and your mother as well.
The best rumour about your father was that he was a bootlegger, a rumrunner and he was killed in the line of his business. I've always chosen to believe that, as it is a far more romantic and exciting life for him to have led.
You must have needed a family growing up, more than most. I'm sure those who raised you did the best they could, but it was a foster home no matter how you looked at it. You needed your own family around you so much that when you were still quite young, you started your own.
Your first marriage yielded three children and a lot of problems for you. I'm sure it didn't help that early into your marriage, you enlisted in the military.
I remember you telling me you wanted to join the navy, but you were forced into a role in the army, as soldier. Your initial refusal meant you were locked up in the brig for a few days, your foster brother sneaking you food, your only source of nourishment. Eventually you gave in and you were off to basic training.
Not long after that, you landed in Europe, the UK if I remember correctly. It was after D-Day and you took a long train journey to Southampton, where you caught a transport to Belgium. From there, you fought your way across Europe, through Germany and beyond. You were there the day they liberated Dachau, you saw horrors I can't even imagine.
I know you killed people and I know if you didn't they would have killed you. I can remember the one story you told, of being on patrol in the woods, perhaps the Black Forest in Germany. A young German soldier jumped out of the trees and tried to fire at you, but his gun jammed. You took him down with one shot. I'm very glad you did.
You were wounded by shrapnel a couple of times and decorated with the Purple Heart as well as other medals that I can't remember. You stayed in Germany for a while after the war, you brought home many cool souvenirs. You said the war changed you, I'm sure that was true.
Your marriage ended not long after that and you drifted from job to job. You had your first job when you were seven years old and didn't stop working hard until they made you retire. You would have kept on working till the day you died, if they let you.
That's the thing about you, Dad, you were always hard working. I'm sure that's where I got it too.
You met Mom in the 1950s and got married, but I didn't come along for quite a while after that. You got a very good job not long before I was born and you stayed with that company until the last day you worked.
Growing up, you were always generous. You were relatively well-off and it showed, with nice houses, nice boats and a swimming pool. My younger brother and I wanted for nothing.
I always knew I was your favourite, a role I never truly deserved. I always thought it was because I was the first child that you actually raised, you were there for me growing up. You saw what a miserable yet bright child I was, how lazy and underachieving I could be, yet you didn't care, I was still your favourite.
You watched me drop in and out of university, you saw me quit different jobs. You also watched as I found other, better work and eventually moved away from you and Mom.
I didn't plan on being so far away from you, things just worked out that way. One day I woke up and I'd been abroad for 10 years, I had roots, I had a career, I had a partner. When Mom got sick, I tried to help, but I just couldn't be there enough.
It drove me a bit crazy, when I truly grasped I couldn't help you. When I returned to London after spending so much time with you and Mom, I went a bit mad myself. I told you as much and you just thought I was weak, that I was "a flake". It took me quite a while to sort myself out.
I was still in the middle of crawling out of my own misery when you were diagnosed with cancer. I couldn't handle visiting you then. It was selfish, it was self-centered, but it was my decision. You weren't happy about it and I don't think you ever accepted it, but I didn't come.
I spoke to you on the telephone when I could, but it got too hard and I didn't phone as often as I should have. I'm sorry for that as well.
There were times when I considered jumping on a plane, but I couldn't face it, couldn't face seeing you so ill, knowing it was the last time I would ever see you. I couldn't face your other children either. My half-siblings. They hated me before I was born and caused me more problems then you ever understood. I couldn't face them either.
So I didn't come, but at least I got to speak to you a couple of times before you died. The last good chat was about 2 weeks before you passed away, you sounded strong and clear and yourself. It was great hearing your voice, even though it was so brief.
Our last chat was 2 days before you died. You sounded terrible. I knew it wouldn't be long. You knew it was me, you said you were tired. I didn't say much more than "hello", I could hear what an effort it was for you to speak to me. The next day you slipped quietly into a coma.
I hope you died knowing that I'm all right, that my life, though it may not have turned out the way I expected, is OK. I still hope and dream that better things will come, I try to be as optimistic about life as you were for most of yours.
I hope you died knowing that Mom is all right as well. You've left her with plenty of money, she'll be well-cared for, for as long as she lives. She has people around her that care for her as well, including me. I know I can't do much, but I'll do what I can.
Mom misses you terribly and breaks down in tears whenever she speaks to me. She loves you so much, she doesn't know how she'll survive without you. Don't worry she will.
I'm sorry I let you down Dad, I dreaded your death for so very long. In the end, I chose to avoid it as best I could.
I also let you down with my younger brother. I know I promised you I would always do my best to look out for him, but he cut me out 3 months ago. I haven't heard a word from him. I don't have a clue why. At least you died not knowing this, though who knows, you might know now.
Mom says you're in a better place now. I wish I could believe that, but like you, I don't believe in any sort of afterlife. I'd love to picture you on a cloud, surrounded by people who've already passed, who loved you, but I can't. I'd love to believe that when my time comes, you'll be there to greet me, but I don't believe that for a second either. I just hope where-ever you are, you're at peace.
You taught me so much Dad, how to ride a bike, how to fish, how to drive car, how to tip, how to enjoy life, how to be a man. You were my father, my hero, my example and a day won't go by for the rest of my life that I won't miss you.
I love you, Dad, I always will.
Friday, October 01, 2004
Spent the day off my face on shrooms, very pleasant indeed. It wasn't the heavy duty trip I was aching for, but it was nice enough. I'm waiting for a take-away to arrive, which is rounding out my hippy-day quite nicely, thanks.
I'm still a bit spaced, as you can tell by my attempts make sense here.
I could tell you about my thoughts on the prez debate. Who cares.
I could tell you what I ordered for my dinner. Crispy duck. Yummmm
I could tell you I switched my default browser to Mozilla Firefox, would you care?
See ya later