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The early morning gloom that followed a night’s welcome rain has given way to a bright and sunny mid-morning at Flowerbook. Java had to bathe Rocky, who simply loathes a bath, whilst Buster, Bruiser and Sally looked on. And then we were indoors listening to a shuffle of numbers off the iPod whilst imbibing some heavenly ‘Early Misty’ direct from Amsterdam, when Emily made her presence felt – through one of Java’s stream of consciousness rambles. It could well have been brought to the surface through Paul Simon’s ‘For Emily’ that the iPod had shuffled up for us, although Simon’s ‘Emily’ bore little resemblance to the crone that Java kept flashing on in his recurring dream. So we listened to the lyrics through the Early Misty haze. Arresting melody, haunting song:

What I dream I had, dressed in organdy
Clothed in crinoline, of smoky Burgundy
Softer than the rain

I wandered empty streets, down past the shop displays
I heard cathedral bells, tripping down the alley ways
As I walked on

And when you ran to me your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand

And when I awoke and felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair with my grateful tears
Oh I love you, girl

Oh, I love you

It was enough to quieten Java and get his mind off the other Emily for a while, but I have this familiar premonition that it won’t be long before the crone surfaces through the complex processes that it takes for just about anything to emerge from Java’s mostly muddied stream of thought.

We should not hold our breath though!

I guess some of you would have noticed yourselves being featured on a newish blog – and probably felt some heat at the reaction of the blogsucks-author to your particular blog, or to a blog/blogger who you did not think warranted the insulting put-downs. Cyberspace is crawling with all manner of weirdos, some of who get off on hurling shit from the safety of their holes. I have addressed this phenomenon in earlier posts here and here , and also elsewhere, in less obvious terms of reference.

The problem Java and I have with anonymous entities spewing vitriol is not to do with the content of their crap, but that they cut off all lines of communicating responses to their mostly banal drivel. Some of the shit is funny – in a perverse sort of way, but most of it I suspect comes from a severely deprived and twisted individual(s) with psychological hang-ups that manifest in this cowardly practice.

There was a period when Achcharu had a coterie of creeps that were intent on targeting more popular bloggers like RD and Darwin – amongst others, but some of the feedback that emanated must have got to them, as it looked like they crawled back into their respective holes and under their respective rocks. Now however, it looks like at least one of them has made an appearance, as the style and clichéd put-downs are unmistakable. I guess old habits die hard!

Anyway, for those of you who have, or will be targeted in the coming days – be cool. Creeps will be creeps – I guess it’s genetic!

I must admit, I didn’t have the “slightest interest” in it when I first glanced through one of those early posts. And given that I had started blogging some six months later and wasn’t “the experienced blogger”, I hadn’t a clue about “the answer to my questions” that he postulated on. Anyway, I “gave him time”, as he requested – and now hardly wonder “what comes of this”.

Suffice to say, the blogger has emerged (going by Indi’s recent stats) to be the most widely read on Kottu today. And what’s more, one thing led to another and a kind of mutual admiration and rapport developed between the two of us that has blossomed into friendship that even included the bonus of meeting the two occasional stars of his blog – A and K. The occasional meet-ups when he visits his beloved Colombo (sans London and Drums) are always a pleasure. So happy blog-birthday RD and may there be many more of those corny-kinky-weirdly wonderful-sometimes shitty (subject-wise of course!)-personal-pimpedupdiary-posts of yours coming through.

Cheers buddy!

It was like business as usual – abstruse and convoluted. The response was specifically designed for mindfuck by the specialist in antipathy and directed to the Drummer for dissemination through the tom-toms that would be used to convey the message through the wilderness of cyberspace.

But the Drummer wasn’t drumming that day – his tom-toms being damaged by an angry date, frustrated by the attention she sought being lavished on them instead of on her. And so the specialist in antipathy, sitting there with his nuts in a twist, stewed, conjuring up fantasies starring his favoured villains, whilst he wondered how to get the show back on track.

Meanwhile, the Drummer ditched his tom-toms and got back to regular drumming.

Java’s in the basement
Working on the ‘medicine’
I’m at the keyboard
Thinking about the government
The men on the black bikes
Faces masked, guns cocked
Waiting for someone
To get paid off
Look out man
It’s not just that White Van
God knows when
They’ll strike again
You better get down – get away
If you want to see a new day
The man at the top
Sitting on his throne
Wants your loyalty
But you ain’t got none

Java’s back – looking weird
Heard the news and it ain’t good
Said the bikers got their man
Smashed his window pierced his brain
The phone’s tapped anyway
So got to find another way
Or they’ll bust your ass
No matter what you say
Look out man
Don’t matter what you claim
Walk on tip toes
Stay away from bozos
Who call themselves politicos
Carry around a book of prose
Try to keep a clean nose
Watch out for them ‘plain clothes’
Don’t need no weatherman
To tell which way that wind blows

Get scared, get back
Try your best to change track
Cut loose, give slack
Just in case they’re coming back
Check blogs, feed dogs
Dance to the Ipod
Writing crap, deleting it
Substituting harmless shit
So look out kid
No matter what you did
The losers, cheaters
Army deserters
Hang around theatres
Waiting for that ring tone
To strike again and head home
Orders from the leaders
Tears for the bleeders

Got born, kept warm
Childhood’s end, had sex
Went to church, got blessed
Studying for success
Kiss ass, make pass
Get laid, get paid
Years of schooling
End up on the night shift
Look out kid
You’ll pay for what they order
Better not run for it
They’ll get you at the border
So fly that flag
And do the right thing
Unless you want to bring
It all down and sing
The song of what
It takes to be a patriot

Java says you gotta sing it!

March 2009
Creative Commons License
Ephemeral Ruminations by Java Jones is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at

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