The blind dance free

Why did you  shout at the French police?
Hallucinating  bulls who  cross the sea.
Know  what I thought mirages must  cease.

You  say you’re wrapped in jelly  for  the geese
Yet you  have  heard voices  speak to   me.
Deluded, you  cut out a   flounce  for peace

The prodigal will  not  have  a watch  unswitched
What seemed  good now will not   say, Hi Di
Such wry  messages  are  all  untidy,  creased.

My  specious  grace by worry is now teased.
I would have graded all the people’s  wee
You  shut out  my dance by wearing fleece

Those  who  feel  commotions are the least.
What’s  a bum?Whatever let it be!
So , from  messaging, I  made  a frieze.


In   private parts, I shall curtail your lease.
No longer   yours, I   want   the BBC!
Why did you   snack on the ounce of peace?
Now my Cohen oranges make beasts.

“We judge ourselves before we have a chance to see ourselves (as though in panic).


Freud termed this droll internal critic superego, and Phillips suggests that we suffer from a kind of Stockholm syndrome of the superego:

We are continually, if unconsciously, mutilating and deforming our own character. Indeed, so unrelenting is this internal violence that we have no idea what we are like without it. We know virtually nothing about ourselves because we judge ourselves before we have a chance to see ourselves (as though in panic). Or, to put it differently, we can judge only what we recognize ourselves as able to judge. What can’t be judged can’t be seen. What happens to everything that is not subject to approval or disapproval, to everything that we have not been taught how to judge? … The judged self can only be judged but not known. [We] think that it is complicitous not to stand up to, not to contest, this internal tyranny by what is only one part — a small but loud part — of the self.

Stan wants a chamber pot.

Stan was recovering from his long feverish cold and cough.He had Emile standing on his desk under the windows
cleaning it with a microfibre cloth fastened to his right front paw.
Very good,Emile,he said in a husky voice.I think I’ll get up and make a hot drink.I feel better now than I did and I
enjoyed the Reith lecture on the radio.Mary came into the room wearing a long dressing gown with a zip front.
Where did you get that,Stan enquired jocosely.
It was hanging behind the door, she said.I must have bought it in a sale.I get almost all my stuff in sales.It makes it more of an achievement.
But are they really want you want,Stan enquired tactfully
I am happy with them because I like bright colors but most folk don’t so they end up in the sale.I just bought
some pewter shoes for £29.99 when in black they were £79.99.
Will pewter shoes not be too heavy?Stan joked.
It’s the colour dearest.It’s a good colour for when we are going out in the evening to a do.
But we never do go out nowadays .he told her sadly.
I live in my imagination,Mary responded, and so I get clothes and shoes for any possible event
… funerals.weddings,evening balls.circuses…
The only balls you see in the evening are at home ,he murmured vulgarly.
I don’t think that’s very funny,Stan,she told him.I am a woman of gentle birth even if I was born in a coal mine.
I am sorry dearest,my mind is not right since I fell out of bed and banged my head on that heavy tin chamber pot.
That’s a flower vase,she told him honestly and directly.We no longer use chamber pots now we have an ensuite
here and a cloakroom downstairs plus an outside lav too.
Well,I do.Stan said.I was brought up with one and I always use one at night.
That’s strange Mary told him.Where do you find them? I have never bought any,not even in the Sales.
In the kitchen,Stan said.In the cupboard
Those are my baking bowls, she said crossly.I forbid you to use them to wee into.
Well,will you buy me one? he asked her tenderly as he stroked her curly light blonde hair just washed in Boots Dandruff and Acne shampoo. with Rosemary and Rose Essence.
Of course,darling,if it will make you happy.I’ll go online.I am sure they are still made though originally they were used when people had outside loos.
That can be my Xmas present,he joked,if you pay for express delivery but don’t have it gift wrapped.
Adulterous Annie their neighbour came in.She wore a grass green trouser suit and pink calf high boots.Underneath she had spanx hip and thigh control pantees and a blue lace bra which peeped out as she had forgotten to put a blouse or jumper on despite the cold weather.
What is that, in your hand,Annie ? Stan asked thoughtfully.
It’s a pewter chamber pot that we inherited from my granny, she said
Gosh,how amazing,it’s just what Stan needs,Mary informed her.He’s been using a vase..
That is very naughty,Annie told him.You should know better
Naughty!That’s a  strange word to use.I am a man.I can do what I want.You’ll see.
But can you want what you do,Mary asked like an Oxford don on speed.
I can if I choose to ,he said.
So do you believe in will power? Annie asked curiously.
Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t, he replied ambiguously which was one of his defense mechanisms when he was with two clever women.
I see,you twist the world around your little finger.
That’s a strange parallel,Stan told her.But parallel lines on the earth’s surface do meet at the Poles which proves
that Euclidean geometry is not the only sort possible.
Why is that?Annie asked,though she really had no idea what he was talking about
Because one of Euclid’s axioms is that parallel lines never meet .
It sounds a bit like men and women nowadays,Stan said thoughtfully.We will only meet if we go up the pole
I wonder what the origin of that phrase is,Mary said curiously.It’s a strange world.
Meanwhile ,Emile finished the window and was polishing the dressing table mirror.What luck for Mary and Stan that Emile loves microfibre and Windolene.Next they are hoping to buy him tiny vacuum cleaner… that would help to
gather up all the dust from the floor and let Mary get on with her book :Mirrors and the development of the pre-oedipal child’s theory of integers and meta-language as hypothosised by
Jack Lacanne.Part 1a.

I miss handwritten letters


10311359_705010262972188_5083699697339120623_nI can’t remember now the last time I got a real letter..These days all the addresses are typed and even cards may come by email.Why does it matter?
How nice it was when mingled with the bills there was an envelope with your name on with handwriting you recognised.
When I became  an adult this was still common because long-distance phone calls were expensive.And at that time not everyone had a phone.
I can tell a lot from handwriting.It is the person,in a sense.So emails and texts are impersonal by nature. And is it because we have no time to write letters because life moves faster in cities in modern states?Or has life got faster because we can fit more in.The washing is inside  the machine.The ready meal is in the fridge.And it was ordered online.Most people don’t iron their clothes.So we should have more time.
But we must check  emails and texts and reply ASAP.
We may have photos to download, the computer to update.We wash our clothes and bodies more often.
Yet we don’t entertain at home like we did in the 70’s.We might meet in a coffee shop instead.
The home is different.Both adults may be at work full time,children at a minder’s.Then they need lessons after school.
They don’t play out much.Purposeless activity seems to have disappeared.The traffic is too dangerous and hordes of villains roam the streets ready to kill or kidnap anyone they meet.
Actually, crime has not gone up but we are afraid.
Is this why we have Call Blocking, ignore Withheld Numbers,let the answering machine answer.
Every blessing has a curse, or we think it does.People want phones and computers  but now criminals  have found ways of getting money from us by pretending to be friends.
We are genuinely afraid.Wars abound.We hear too much beyond the boundary  of what we can affect.The world seems dangerous. Maybe even  using our own handwriting seems to give away too much.Typing hides our personality.We want to hide but have 400 friends on Facebook.Paradox and contradiction have left philosophy and come  into real life.
And the cost of living rises because we need to have computers now to deal with our bills,access government services etc.So  money to pay for broadband is needed.Children may need iPads or other devices.And phones. All the family need their own car.In London, it’s not so bad to travel on a bus  except late at night.Elsewhere buses have  gone, like local shops.
We need phones because GP’s send texts with test results or reminders.And because we are lonely.Letters could be carried around and re-read.
Well,it’s not going to change backwards so we just have to find other ways of telling people they matter to us.


Rules for Writers-Michael Morpurgo

The Guardian did a series of these which you can google if you wish.I find I like to know about how other people  live and why they do as they do though we can never totally understand others especially between cultures

.But we all live and die like flowers


The many meanings of grace