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Lately I’ve been buying some GORGEOUS jars of Tika Masala and Buttered Chicken sauce. I found the best way to prepare these meals is to set the stove to about half-heat, seal the chicken then add the sauce. Cook for about 15 minutes. This gives you a wonderful tasting Chicken Tika Masala or Buttered Chicken meal with tender meat heated JUST enough. BEAUTIFUL.

“Well if it works for the chicken,” I thought, “Why not beef too?”

So I bought a jar of Korma sauce, threw in raw beef steak that I had cut into 1.5-inch cubes, and stirred on the stove for fifteen minutes.

Apparently that doesn’t work as well. The blood started to separate from the steak meat and rose to the top. As I continued to heat the sauce, the pools of blood grew deeper and more obvious. The sauce was a mix of Korma and warm cow blood, separate enough not to mix but too inseparable to remove one from the other.

It tried to eat it, I really did.

I gave up gagging and made some fish ‘n’ chips instead.

How to be a good parent and still enjoy your rap music… ?

I’m going to sit on the side of a mountain, looking over the rolling landscape with the whisping clouds and gliding eagles below me. I’ll close my eyes as the warm breeze blows across my face and through the pockets of grass fighting the altitude between the rocks. I’m looking forward to this because I’ll get to talk with people there.

I want to talk with my enemies, and reflect on our though processes and learn about how we each became who and what we were. I want insight into what their motivations were, and why we were so locked against each other’s beliefs.

I want to talk with my girlfriends, and understand their thought processes. I want to know what it was like to be them, and what it was like to be them with me. I will listen while they tell me where I went wrong, and what they enjoyed or admired.

I want to talk with racists and killers and thieves, and learn how they came to be, and why they felt they had to take that path.

I want to talk with politicians, and hear what it was like balancing morals and money. I want to understand not just why, but how they made the decisions they made. How could they let those they swore to protect suffer so much?

I want to talk with my parents, and apologise for the heartache and troubles I brought them. I want to tell them about how much I love them, and how they have helped me and shaped me in so many ways. I want to understand what I drain I was to them, and how I hurt them.

When I am dead, and I have no more agenda, nothing to fight for, die for or lie for; when I have no-one to win over, no trust to earn, no money to raise; when I have nothing to protect, nothing to hide and nothing to bid for… Then, the conversation will be frank, accepting and honest. Then, I can listen and truly hear. Then, I can understand without the urge to judge, convert or crucify.

Then, I can live in peace.

Imagine.