Want to be in my gang? Oh rather.

As I hobble around this rambling old shed of a house, I've become increasingly aware of the dereliction and unusual beauty of the objects that furnish it.

Since my retirement from 'public life' in the late 80's, the only object that I have purchased for over £50 new, has been this...'laptop' Urrrgh, what a dreadful phrase!
I do not possess a TV, washing machine, toaster, microwave or any of those other baubles and labour saving devices that so enchant and stupefy the lower orders.

I prefer to watch some other poor bastard performing the domestic necessities of life in a very labour intensive way.

I have a very efficient lady who pops in twice a week to cook me a decent meal, dust, clean and...bore me to tears. Its not her fault, poor thing.
My laundry is collected, washed and returned on a weekly basis by a small family run business in the village 5 miles distant. Such as it is, my relationship with the rest of the human race is a little distant, and somewhat strained at the time of writing.

To be honest, I've always rather enjoyed 'gangs'. Whether it be the edgy but cosy underworld cafe culture of 50's and 60's Paris, that gang of musicians that is more formally known as a 'rock band', or the little coven of aesthetes who loosely collectivize into the phenomena called an artistic school.

I adore these amorphous fertile wombs of creativity, these assemblages of parts - psychodynamic constructs of conflict and cohesion, blooming and dying like flowers at each moment.

I've never been one for small talk, I'm a bit all or nothing. I'd rather discuss the ontological reality and epistemological history of the vacuum cleaner than actually use one.
I am always too aware of my being in the world, my 'authenticity', my total and profound comprehension that most of this life is a game, but it is many other things also if you care to look a little deeper.

As that self educated polymath Colin Wilson once said, "The outsider [artist] see's too deeply and too much"
Indeed.
Once you have cleansed the doors, everything is indeed infinite.