Tools of violence

Identity violence

Symbolic violence

Communication violence

Historic violence

Revisionist violence

Repetitive violence

Infantilising violence

Nostalgic violence

Communication violence

Prejudiced violence

Tiring violence

Destructive violence

Sexual violence

Gendered violence

Religious violence

Spiritual violence

Class violence

Linguistic violence

Colourist violence

Male violence

White male violence

Co-opting violence

Toxic violence

Co-opted toxic violence

Ideological violence

Paternalistic violence

Patriarchal violence

Symbolically patriarchal violence

Promotional violence

Just violence

Violence violence

Tiring violence

Too tired coz I’m broken and it’s the result of all the above and more violence

Mental violence

Inferred violence

Implicit violence

Bright-eyed violence

Broken souls violence

The once you had bright eyes but then you got co-opted and are stuck but still need peeps and I get it but don’t you get that I get it, so why you gotta erase the stuff we excavate and stop us entering and flinging open the doors-no revision check, not open the doors break all these fracking symbolic capitalistic colonial walls – so that we can all evolve together and your tired eyes can weep and rejoice in celebration with us all, bold beautiful and brave and bound to the forward March of completing our shared ancestors abolitionist principles and journeys to create a new fair fresh deprogrammed society so we keep being we and us, and you and me, happy and free together… urgh! Gah! For f***! *sigh* but you can’t and that’s violent, violence.

So instead here we stand. Ina pyramid and I keep trying to educate and create and collate and collaborate while we survive and you thrive but I don’t even cry coz I’m proud inside that at least someone who got one part of our ancestral spirit souls good side to the table where it’s all about whose there to dine, and whose outside… not about our fellow people who die and are also pushed towards pipelines to die. Whether quickly or slowly, that’s for us all to see with our eyes.

I’m too tired to speak, so I’ll leave it to that… and sleeps for the night.


CFP: Rhetoric Discourse and the Communicative-Dialogical Mind

Sent this morning > May be of interest / Keeping it here to refer back to:

Focusing on wide-raging domain of rhetoric communication, the conference addresses past and present issues ranging from Aristotelian Rhetoric to cognitive-oriented linguistic approaches. It is argued that our communicative minds operate beyond cool reason by mixing up semantic domains in multimodal frames both in mass and networked communication. Metaphor use in specialist and popularized discourse contexts must also be accounted for in view of the pervasiveness of imaginative processes in terminology coinage in different areas of expertise.

Researchers from different areas of knowledge and persuasions, from Antiquity to the Present, are invited to present paper proposals, focusing on one of the following themes:

  • Political Rhetorics and mass communication

  • Metaphor and Terminology

  • Metaphor and different approaches

  • Multimodal Communication

  • Digital Discourse and variation

The congress sponsored by The Center of Linguistics and the Center for Classical Studies of the University of Lisbon  features plenary sessions with keynote speakers, and parallel sessions for paper presentations.

Working languages: Portuguese and English.

We welcome:

•  individual proposals for a 20 minute-paper;

•  joint proposals for thematic panels with 3 papers.

Please include the following information with your proposal:

•  full title of your paper / of your panel and respective papers;

•  abstract (ca. 350 words per paper), optionally with a short list of bibliographical references;

• a short biographical note (ca. 150 words).

Please note that:

• All paper proposals will be peer-reviewed;

• Deadline for proposals: February 28, 2017;

•  Notification of acceptance: February 19, 2017 (first proposals); March 31, 2017 (extended deadline);

•  Proposals should be submitted by e-mail in MS Word or PDF format to with the  subject header: Abstract proposal.

See more at: 

Year 2021.. Or so it begins


Year 2021

The world is a different place. A place of Cultural creators. Cultural tasters. Cultural dictators. Where it is your link to belief that assigns where you reside. Where birth-right is the only thing that is certain and right. No more mobility. No more integrating. No trust. No hope. In short the world of status quo and neo-colonial control.. Or rather the struggle for control.

The green, green lands of Blightly have been touched severely by years of tension, civil unrest and unsound policy making. Until the landmark year of 2020, August 2020 to be precise.

But most of all a place where culture has ripped away at all that could be, could ever have been and is now used to discourage any integration, mixing or appropriation.. Unless a case is made and upheld in the secular centres of the British Isles.
In the midst of it all. The laptop chimes, beh-beh-buehmm .. those Skype ringtones are old and classic. Though Zaika makes a mental note for the millionth time this month about changing it after this call, she already knows she most likely, probably, most definitely won’t. She can’t seem to pin down what it is, familiarity, nostalgia, laziness or what, but that sound.. That silly old-school bubbley logo, she patched in 18 months ago, that animates round and round.. Buzzing over that S. All of it. Everything. Makes her entire body beam with delight, her life for one brief moment seems light. Lighter than the beams of golden speckled beams shining through the french dormer windows.. Catching all sorts of hazy transient bits of fluff in their nurturing rays. Enveloping her cold pert breast, warming her nipples into some form of biological submission. Making her feel at one and at a loss, simultaneously. Her life is not her own. Her life is not a whole.

All this and more she thinks in the 1 minute and 45 seconds she can bear the ringing sound coming from her comically tall looming white Ikea desk. With the fluid movement of someone who has performed this task a million times, Zaika pushes her slender, naked form off the floor. Her knees and toes taking most of force as they act like fulcrums, while her rough fingers reach out to the soft black shawl, on top of which she had been sat in absorbed contemplation. As her body turns the 65 degree angle needed to silence the monotonous ringing that has faded into the patchwork of her life sounds, Zaika has managed to drape the shawl loosely but competently around herself. Managing to even pin the ends tightly around her face, to build the illusion of constant observance to protocol. Just in time to answer the call to her young overseas nephew.

“Bore da, Yayah”
“Asa’laam walaykum Khala”
“Walaykum Asa’laam Yayah, how are you doing?”

Oh this call is not going to go well she thinks, already her young 11 year old nephew’s eye have narrowed with the intensity of her mother’s. She wonders what sermon will be filtered to her in today’s conversation, she has already dissected the 15 seconds of interaction and found herself to be be seen as wanting. If only she’d just smiled happy and allowed him to begin the conversation. She mutters a hurried prayer to God Allah that her constant interaction down at the centre will at least carry her pakistani and arabic verbal skills through the next 25 minutes. Perhaps for once she can bring some pride to them, and leave a call feeling loved. Her eyes swell a little with tear.. As a flash-forward of herself looms large in her mind’s eye. Zaika is laing naked on the flower, curled up against a hot water bottle and teddy.. Crying like a broken water-works doll.


The FT Piss me off.. too ill for this shit.

As a born saver; I barely managed to saved my regular £200 a month for the past few years, on my crappy £400 p/m jobs or the old GAA at a whopping £20K.
Regularly needing to dip into it, due the cost of living and expenses that is just not being regulated!
Now I’m in astonishing debt.. all to try and get a better grasp of my career path, the profession I want to enter and oh yeah more money, so I can save more and buy myself just a little old house for me and whoever else will fit there. 
Here’s a quick snapshot over how I shared it on FB. I still stand by my closing line: “In summary: Fuck the toffs ‪#‎Taxthemright‬ “
Screen Shot 2016-02-17 at 10.04.25

Life so far… Returning to the place of my awakening construction

So I have returned to snowy Yorkshire after a rollercoaster 3 1/2 day, 3 night return to London. No matter what is said by people from all walks of life about this place and how many times I leave, or come to the realisation that this place just isn’t for me, right now, for many, many reasons.. I cannot think of anywhere else that I feel more like myself. Rather, where I am more able to be confronted by myself and thus allowed some time to consider life and myself.

A great woman in this city taught me many pearls of wisdom. The ones I keep returning to often are those related to family, friends and religion. After all, like the age-old saying goes, “You can choose your friends but not your family”. I’m just struck by how many times and how many people, well-meaningly may attach themselves to or try to help other people but where does this boundary blur?

Often it is when morals, spirituality, religion or received wisdom is discussed. By our natures, we humans are beings who are constantly learning and trying to evolve, in some way or form. But I think when one is overcome with pride over their own ways of understanding the world they fall quickly into greed. It’s greedy to want more than your two hands, two feets, brain and life allows. We are all given one life (arguably). It is only the two God-given hands and feet, our brain, our heart and understanding of our selves that we can and should have any control over. But when you over-ride another’s life or impinge on it in anyway, your committing a grave ill, sin-like. It’s pride and greed rolled into one. Now don’t mistake me, I am not saying that in this case we should all be individuals well and truly and have no interaction. After all by our natures, and especially mine, we are social beings and collectively attempt to understand and construct life and knowledges around us.

Part of this is the age-old awareness-advice-experimentation-attainment model. Say for example, the issue is not being consistently productive over writing, you first have to become aware of the issue, why it’s happening, what can be done etc. Then you may go to someone to discuss it, or even write/call/text/skype to someone or even to yourself t received or form relevant advice, say for example “Write everyday no matter how big or small. don’t look to always having a finished product or polished argument”. Experiement then ensues, as the phrase suggests, you (or I) try this out.. whether it be the exact advice or a reworking of it and others to fit the lifestyle of the person with the issues. Then hopefully some sense of achievement, overcoming or feeling of attainment is left at the end or during the more fruitful days of experimentation.

But when helpful advice, from a place of caring turns into judgement, competition and over-riding another’s god-given right to process and become who the hell they are meant to. You are intervening on something larger than yourself and it is not your place. Yes a discussion, the start of dialogue is welcome and should always be open, I mean even the Prophet Muhammed (PBUH) invited people to ask questions and try and make sense of any commands or the way life should be lived. Communication and the striving for awareness is key and central to our life’s agenda, is it not? If we did not need others to be sane or live our lives, we would all be borne into islands with no social, cultural or religious constructs. As one wise woman said “Even if the way the religion is done annoys me, I was born into it. God choose to make me one of these people, I can’t turn away completely”.


once, ‘people come and go,


#NaBloPoMo #28: Excerpts..

Excerpts from last nights trade.. too busy working in the windiest of days in a new library or rather bookish place to edit these.

Apologies for not posting last night. I be still working on my self-portraits for the logo I want to create for self and also playing with how I communicate online.

Meaning by using said dating site from before, I have now moved into different sites of networked knowledges. It is all very fun and interesting. I am unsure how to take it, but it is all a very affective yet equally political experience. As I question identity, formation and projection of identities couple intrinsically with desire.

So here are a few excerpts from some chats. I will only post what I have written, as I want to respect the ethics and know I do not have permission for other’s items or texts to be projecting out into the cybersphere. Though I guess ownership of my responses could also be called into question, if I answer to a question asked or comment on a titbit of information given when does an individual response become part of a collective dialogue with equal ownership? Or is this just me being silly and a bit pedantic?


In response to a dialogue touching on art, talks of meeting up.. short (6 – 10 min) lapses between our responses, very interesting, intriguing person. Do really feel some sort of desire or pull to meet.. often ends with ‘x’ wonder if it is muscle memory or done knowingly?

Oh sorry if that sounded a little condescending, didn’t mean it to be. Sometimes I go on a written roll.
Wow Oils, you must be a brave and confident creative then? Lol, theP section is well and truly covered there, I can’t say I became overly familiar with Pissaro or much of Pollock to be honest. But I do love Picasso, well his innovative threads and pushing boundaries more so the multi-million reproductions that everyone has up everywhere.
Aww that sounds sad, I feel like I’m made you a little ‘meh’, feel bad now.. but as you broached the subject, how long is a while in your case?
Figurative paintings, drawings and prints.. mixed materials but mostly having fun with acrylics, charcoal and just drawing and mark-making. The cheap and fun stuff really. Still have huge bags of materials and try to draw when I can. Been spending all eve doing self-portraits as a logo/card-design..
Ooh that’s a tough question. Maybe we can pick up on it in person?>

Another response

Yeah, I would say it’s a curse of being British, but I think it’s just who I am. I am prone to cheeky little outbursts and jokes no-one gets. Plus as an ‘equality warrior’, I definitely don’t want to offend anyone!
I’ve only done like 3 canvases in Oils.. I did love how slow you could be. Playing with the layering. I’ve always meant to look into colour theory again, but it just sits in my brain in some rudimentary form and I think I just get by with that. What kind of subjects do you paint? Or is it more abstract? Cool, thanks for letting me know. Curiosity is abated, by the way you don’t have to answer all my questions, I do sometimes ask too many..
Thanks.. I think creativity sits somewhere in everythings that gets done or that I do.. so for now I’m okay with taking it a little slow getting back to drawing differently and better. Depends on the premise by the way, are pictograms counted as writing?

response to whether I am a feminist:

Oh a bit of semiotics I like! Haha why would that be a bad thing?! x

An hour later.. no I say: 

But no not a vegan, but yes a feminist (no don’t hate men am not a Radical Feminist wave) and define political please?

Fell asleep.. or rather got into a very interesting conversation on Whatsapp. 

Sorry had to catch some zzz’s not prepared for the day 😦

ooh ‘war on policy’ that’s a cut phrase. So you’ve come across a lot of a certain kind of feminist then? I think you’ll have to see me to know what kind of feminist I am 😉

Though I must say I’m all for diversity, liberalism and just good old humanity and kindness above all. Of course I am, like and have to be a feminist, because that’s my standpoint, also when there are a lot of things that I see immediately wrong happening around me – I mean equal wages for one especially for single parent families. But I would never tell someone they’re wrong! Every viewpoint had to be heard, but I would very likely challenge you if I saw something wrong or flawed in the argument your making.

A follow up barely a few minutes in between, feel a little affronted tbh, not sure how I feel about “political” or “politics” being seen as apart from life. Especially from a creative artist sort of person.. I do know how to pick them always don’t I? Jeez

Gosh that sounds a bit political doesn’t it?!
But yes I think I am very politically atuned. I don’t expect everyone to be, lots of my best friends and social circle aren’t and that’s fine- their choice. It doesn’t affect me and I don’t affect theirs. People can be friends across imaginary ideological divides.. it’s all just about making the most about what you do like, sharing that and having fun when you can .. I think 🙂 x

No idea where I go from here… but it’s fun being back to playing. 


#NaBloPoMo #24:

So feel like I’m falling behind a little. Plans not working out. Cold not helping. Wonder if I’m cut out for this climate and locality, or even I’m even staying true to myself.

It was lovely to chat to lots of diverse people yesterday, but especially old friends who as Tom Stock’s poetry says “Came from all corners, and I know I was loved” (I paraphrase)

That didn’t help me from having crippling self-realisation, resolve and then abandonment of said resolve. I know I’m reckless and I wonder if I’m enjoying my newfound recklessness a bit too much. Especially considering that this is the year I should point my soul towards betterment and self. I wonder why we as people do this? I wonder why I do this? Why am I obsessed to root out different people and places? Different conversations? Alternative areas of love and communication? But also old past arenas of growth, ripe for torturing re-evaluation?!

As you can tell I do not have any answers yet, though I hope to think on solving this problem of mine.


post poetry to finish.

A broken siren, devoid of any call,
cast adrift traversing land unseen.
My Poseidon, my hope.
Won’t you cast me a rope?
Some marks, some letters,
some speck of honeyed ambrosia.

Must glass needles sheer me from below and inside?
A siren I unseen, ugly in my self-imposed calamity,
you stride armed trident,
the seven seas at your feet.
Happily healthy,
a tyrant living free.
Your coral crown rakes away lives,
eternally sustaining life spans,
dealt and stolen by your hands,
never to have been,
Oh woe is you and me.
These glass needles have ripped me clear.

Originally composed Thursday 29th October 2015 – Amended right now, as I listen to Adele’s “Hello” and the many, many remixes of this beautiful song. 

The theme and thoughts that ran through my head, were one of communication as I awaited a letter, which still hasn’t arrived. Also due to my class, the previous day on connotations and visual methods, where we dissected the old Jean Paul Gaultier advert (below), I obviously had sirens, conveying messages, being cast adrift etc on my brain. 

Jean Paul Gaultier advert circa 199-
Jean Paul Gaultier advert circa 199-