"Croeso i ddyfnderoedd fy isymwybod: Welcome to the depths of my subconscious. Shark Fishing in Wales is one man's odyssey to understand the land of his birth through anecdote, observation and reminiscence! By learning about his country, perhaps he can learn more about himself. A process of individuation which Carl Jung suggests we should all go through. Less assuming one nationhood and more working towards one nationhood before we become Independent." Daf Williams
Cymru/Wales: Bipolar Nation
Total Pageviews
-
https://linktr.ee/lucyreidarts 'I can play the piano' whispered 5-year-old me to our deputy head teacher Mr. Dennis who was s...
-
+ = My life can be distilled into the above arithmetical equation. Capel(Chapel) + Ysgol(School) = Carchar(Prison) There ...
-
The Hero's Journey from David Williams on Vimeo . I know that some of you read this blog especially the very popular Guest Blog P...
-
As a Ffrinj Nutter who had a dalliance with the Welsh Nationalist Party/ Plaid Cymru/ The Party of Wales many, many years ago I was p...
-
January 1988 sees me starting work (Kairdiff Vernacular) at 'The Printers' on Broadway, Roath Cardiff. It looked less like the o...
-
'Gizza Job'! I will be 46 years of age on St David's Day. I have been a Head of Drama in a tough, inner city secondary scho...
Friday 29 January 2016
In praise of single, middle aged men
We must be one of the most maligned sub groups in society. 'The Single Middle Aged Man'. I remember being asked by a well meaning but intrusive and annoying work colleague why I wasn't married and I replied 'I haven't met the right one' and she replied "Oh you're one of those". This was way back in the naughty 1990s when I wasn't as middle aged as I am now. I was un-diagnosed in those days. An un-diagnosed Manic Depressive. So why is there such an invisible army of single, middle aged men? It is an army that never meets together to fight the common foe of conditioned conformity. The smarmy breeders and procreators who inhabit the Sunday color supplements in their his and hers matching Aran sweaters throwing their spring-offs into the air. So why are we still single for Christ-sake? Well we might be divorced, emotionally wounded, shit scared of intimacy, we might have mental health conditions, diagnosed or un-diagnosed that makes the idea of coupling more intimidating than death and of course we might be homosexual, the LGBT without the L. When you live in an area with a high density population, you can stand out in your street if you stubbornly refuse to lose your single status. You choose to proceed through middle age, to old age and onwards to death without a significant other. "But don't you get lonely?" Of course I do you well meaning, intrusive git but being lonely is the price I am prepared to pay for not being in a miserable and stressful relationship. Stress triggers my Manic Depression. The trouble is, you become a target, a target for your own self hating thoughts. You start thinking that others are thinking, why is he middle aged and single? Is he dangerous? The reality is, they are not thinking about you. They are checking their phone. I am polite but I do not look to hold anybody's eye contact. Move along please! nothing to see here but a single, middle aged man.
Monday 25 January 2016
My Life as a Boiled Egg
twice in that time it took a break.
Hospital & then Prison
because my mind was trying to find
a place of sanctuary
"He became a writer" I laughingly lied
she was so happy, she broke down and cried.
"He doesn't get paid for it though"
Saturday 23 January 2016
Plaid Tea Cosy Party
Friday 22 January 2016
Thursday 21 January 2016
Perchnogaeth y Pumdeg
Hell hath no fury like a writer scorned!
Saturday 16 January 2016
4 years a Blogging
Tuesday 12 January 2016
The Pine Cones of Pontcanna
Monday 11 January 2016
The very sad tale of Sammy the Snail
Samuel (snail) had just got out of jail,
He was a working class Tory
He’d been sharing a cell with a pygmy sperm whale and a striped button quail
Conversations late into the night about the fright of immigrant snails, whales and quails
They even discussed running away to Wales and when they said running they meant the kind of movement that snails, quails and whales undertake which is nothing like running.
Even though they’d been told by prison guards and other inmates that it was full of old wives' tales
they didn’t have the nerve to hang it up on the toilet door nails.
The paper was an atomic cocktail but was sold on a sliding scale
that played on the fears of working class snails
the type that clock in and always complain,
the sort that dream of their two week holiday to Spain
Thursday 7 January 2016
Lick the Spoon
Tuesday 5 January 2016
Porpoise Pink Potel
loosely based on the rhythm of Cargoes by John Masefield
poisonous contents
conscience of capitalism
business as usual
nothing to see here
the spillage will be investigated
by cheque books with sharpsuits
moving through the bubbles like a shark on speed
with intention of whitewash, screenwash, facewash
anything really
nature's f**k*d again
Sunday 3 January 2016
Ten Years a Free Man
A hermit, an introvert gets his kicks on Broadband 66.
The above e-book is an attempt to distill the tricks of the unemployed trade that I have had to learn over the last ten years. There are ten top tips to match every year that I have been free. I have read a number of self help books and mind, body, spirit publications. I found that when writing 'Ten Years a Free Man' that some of this homespun psychology and philosophy came to the fore. It started out as a description of the ten years but then I realised that I had forgotten much of what I'd done. A similar situation I'm sure if I had been in employment for the last ten years. I am 'materially' impoverished' but 'spiritually' wealthy. As I stated in the Epilogue, I am not interested in money but very keen on encouraging a collective spiritual wealth, especially here in Wales. What gives me this right to pontificate? Well I suppose it is because I became spiritually re-born within the walls of a Dutch prison cell. I looked for answers towards a higher force or energy. I could not find any answers in my 39 years before this. I had found life up till this point to be a conspiracy of lying and I had bought into it. Now at 49 I feel able and confident to share this, my Survivors' Manifesto, it is a call to spiritual arms, a call for a simpler life where people can regain a sense of community. Until they get rid of the bling and the jingle of material wealth, until they stop competing and start co-operating, then I will always be on the outside, writing about the inside.
The fact is, the poet does not want admiration, he wants to be believed.
— Jean Cocteau Quotes (@CocteauQuotes) September 21, 2020
Fruity old fruit bats
Hello my fruity old fruit bats! That is a term of endearment by the way. I thought I would treat you to a piece of prose rather than the b...
Blog Archive
- March 2024 (2)
- February 2024 (2)
- January 2024 (3)
- December 2023 (1)
- November 2023 (1)
- October 2023 (4)
- September 2023 (6)
- August 2023 (3)
- July 2023 (3)
- June 2023 (2)
- May 2023 (4)
- April 2023 (4)
- March 2023 (4)
- February 2023 (2)
- January 2023 (3)
- December 2022 (3)
- November 2022 (3)
- October 2022 (7)
- September 2022 (4)
- August 2022 (5)
- July 2022 (4)
- June 2022 (5)
- May 2022 (5)
- April 2022 (4)
- March 2022 (7)
- February 2022 (4)
- January 2022 (12)
- December 2021 (4)
- November 2021 (4)
- October 2021 (6)
- September 2021 (5)
- August 2021 (5)
- July 2021 (6)
- June 2021 (7)
- May 2021 (4)
- April 2021 (13)
- March 2021 (5)
- February 2021 (8)
- January 2021 (7)
- December 2020 (7)
- November 2020 (5)
- October 2020 (6)
- September 2020 (6)
- August 2020 (10)
- July 2020 (3)
- June 2020 (4)
- May 2020 (4)
- April 2020 (5)
- March 2020 (4)
- February 2020 (5)
- January 2020 (4)
- December 2019 (7)
- November 2019 (6)
- October 2019 (5)
- September 2019 (6)
- August 2019 (8)
- July 2019 (7)
- June 2019 (6)
- May 2019 (3)
- April 2019 (5)
- March 2019 (5)
- February 2019 (7)
- January 2019 (11)
- December 2018 (6)
- November 2018 (7)
- October 2018 (6)
- September 2018 (7)
- August 2018 (8)
- July 2018 (7)
- June 2018 (6)
- May 2018 (4)
- April 2018 (10)
- March 2018 (11)
- February 2018 (23)
- January 2018 (13)
- December 2017 (10)
- November 2017 (10)
- October 2017 (6)
- September 2017 (13)
- August 2017 (8)
- July 2017 (7)
- June 2017 (13)
- May 2017 (10)
- April 2017 (15)
- March 2017 (8)
- February 2017 (8)
- January 2017 (5)
- December 2016 (14)
- November 2016 (9)
- October 2016 (10)
- September 2016 (10)
- August 2016 (9)
- July 2016 (14)
- June 2016 (8)
- May 2016 (21)
- April 2016 (17)
- March 2016 (12)
- February 2016 (7)
- January 2016 (12)
- December 2015 (13)
- November 2015 (11)
- October 2015 (15)
- September 2015 (12)
- August 2015 (15)
- July 2015 (9)
- June 2015 (6)
- May 2015 (9)
- April 2015 (9)
- March 2015 (13)
- February 2015 (10)
- January 2015 (10)
- December 2014 (11)
- November 2014 (17)
- October 2014 (13)
- September 2014 (13)
- August 2014 (14)
- July 2014 (19)
- June 2014 (9)
- May 2014 (10)
- April 2014 (13)
- March 2014 (15)
- February 2014 (6)
- January 2014 (9)
- December 2013 (9)
- November 2013 (9)
- October 2013 (3)
- September 2013 (8)
- August 2013 (4)
- July 2013 (3)
- June 2013 (1)
- May 2013 (1)
- April 2013 (4)
- March 2013 (5)
- February 2013 (7)
- January 2013 (4)
- December 2012 (5)
- November 2012 (12)
- October 2012 (7)
- September 2012 (3)
- August 2012 (14)
- July 2012 (4)
- June 2012 (6)
- May 2012 (6)
- April 2012 (11)
- March 2012 (23)
- February 2012 (21)
- January 2012 (18)
Bottom of the Ottoman
Bottom of the Ottoman from David Williams on Vimeo.
Crying in your Beer from David Williams on Vimeo.
Hitler navigates the A487 from Aberaeron to Aberystwyth
I shall never wear tweeds from David Williams on Vimeo.