Going to confession:That was one topic we never did in the cemetery.

Pray Father, give me some washing.I’ve got Wikileaks and a new obsession.
Tell me more, my child.
I think someone has been inside my computer.
They can’t be human.
Why not, Father?
Well, we are not thin enough to get into the computer.
Ah, they turn themselves into particles and come in with the current
when it’s high tide.
Do you mean tied?
No, Father.I’ve not been reading that book.
Neither have I but in the confessional, I’ve heard it all.
And how does that make you feel?
Why pay to read a fantasy when you can dream up your own?
Some are born dim… others become dim…….
Well, any sins tonight?
I’m so sorry.I was planning to tell a lie but I forgot.
There’s a list of sins in the Missal…
Yes, I’ve not tried most of them yet… just got a pang of anger
when a brick fell on my head.
That’s natural, my child.
Has a brick ever fallen on your head, Father.
Not yet but I’m only 97.
Wow,you look much older.Are you longing to diet?
Why, is there no food in heaven?
I wonder who cooks.
Maybe they live on manna.
Does God eat food
That was one topic we never did in the cemetery.
Do you mean the seminary.
At my age, it’s all one.
You have reached Nirvana….congratulations.
Well.I’d prefer a cup of tea.
You English!
What are you?
I’m a great Dane.
Did you say a grey Dane.
That too.
Well perk up; the show’s not quite over till the gnat really stings.
Do gnats eat string?
String… it’s my passion.Love it or mate it…get involved.
Live a little.
And for your penance… you must have a bath…
Why?
I don’t like the way you smell.
Well,I am a dog.. we like a sniff.Can I borrow your hankey?
Definitely.
I’ll wash it for you.
Well, it’s not over till that gnat gets a sting!

I found a postcard I had sent myself

I found my HP Stream  upon the shelf
The “Guide to Cumbria” paused in my still hand.
Tidying up does peanuts for the health

It’s an ancient book, yet is my wealth.
The mountains and the moors are my own land
I found  a postcard I had sent myself

If I change the sheets, I   bless myself
A clean  bed is  much better when unplanned
Tidying up  may aid  your mental health

 

If you do good , do it all  by  stealth
If you sin then do not tell your friends
I found my laptop screaming  uon the shelf

If you need to,   always ask for help
What is often borrowed can’t be lent
Tidying up does  wonders for the health

If you see a  burning bush  then quickly  bend
Then, from the bare mountaintop, descend
I found my books  I lost  upon the shelf
Tidying up can startle  mice and selves

McName,McBath

dsc00018

From Messiah to Hitler, What You Can and Cannot Name Your Child

While reactions to the Messiah order have centred on the questions of religious freedom and free speech, the inspiration behind the name seems to be a common one: the appeal of alliteration. Martin said she thought the name was unique and complemented the names of his two older siblings: Micah and Mason.

Wilting  Joe Coward
Bull Goring
Aeons Era Long
Iron Longs4Filings
Izz Rayle Hear.
S. McDeath
Just Call Menne
Will Hugh Shut-Uppe
Bee Quiet.
God-Bless  Hugh Dear
Courtesy Queen
Joe Zens Peep-Hole.
Kind Rabid
Yvonne Wolffman-Spaceship.
Pall O’ Stein.
Ami Overjord-Now
Rollin’ Heights
Syria Plath
Ted Who?
Sue I.Sighed
Overa Dose

If the charts were right, the sailors cried.

The street is still, the windows brim with eyes.
Everyone is looking, no-one sees.
These eyes are tainted by their owners’ lies.

As we age, our innocence will die
But saplings grow between the older trees
The street is still, the windows speak by eye.

If the charts were right, the sailors cried.
Eyes  gazed out  across  the unknown seas
These eyes distorted by  old, telling lies

A spectacle, a triumph, who and why?
Who displays their riches, who will flee?
The street is still, the windows weep like eyes.

The Arche de Triomphe for the French, I sigh.
Was defeat imagined Victory?
Their  thoughts distorted by  old worn out lies

Was the blame borne by the true and free?
Who was hanging on the shadowed Tree?
The street is still.Look, window-fulls of eyes.
These dark eyes  are  crying  for their lovers lies

When you have no partner your opportunities for committing sins are greatly reduced.

13920761_10208628903333444_6196718056528026069_n.jpg

You know, I  think I want to go to church again and I must go to Confession before I go to Mass.But the trouble is that when you have no partner your opportunities for committing sins are greatly reduced.Especially if you don’t go out much
You can’t have a row with them about what TV programme to watch or which side of the bed you sleep on nor about whether they pull the duvet off you in the middle of the night.So you can’t blame them when you feel tired.
You can’t get angry when they ask you to wash their trousers again either or about them wearing a cashmere sweater in bed.Also you see less of their relatives and they were always good for producing sins like envy, rage, jealousy and so on.In fact their relatives change and become saintly so it’s even worse.I suppose that might make me sin.
It’s really hard, though, to commit a sin now so I am wondering   if I should get  a partner purely for the purpose of becoming a sinner who can them be saved by the Sacrament of Confession.I always thought it was odd because if God exists he must know our sins.. in fact  he might know more than we do.He must.
With that in mind, I  wonder about going into therapy as surely that would make  me aware of all the questionable things I have done.Which is better: therapy or getting married? I suppose if I married a rich person they could pay for psychoanalysis for me but it would be a sin to marry purely for that reason.Is that Russell’s Paradox?
Or if I got 2 cats  I could be unkind to them and  not let them sleep on my bed.But I have to admit I cannot be unkind to cats.And I don’t like dogs in the house.Too much work.You might as well get married again as have a dog to care for.Although dogs don’t wear clothes and can’t shout and scream and demand sex at 3 am.Barking is not quite the same
.I suppose I could become a Quaker instead because it might be  tough to find a husband  who is happy for me to study Wittgestein and Sylvia’s  Wrath.My hair is no longer what it was.. my eyes are still blue  but now I have a scar on my face.I thought maybe no-one would notice but the dentist said,
Wow, he’s done a great job hasn’t he? Fantastic, there’s just a little lump here…. what little lump? She’ll have me back in Dermatology as soon as take my teeth out.It was a  little lump that began the whole damn business as it was a bit like a Russian Vine invisibly covering [ part of ] my face.Well I can proudly say I had 23 injections of local anaesthetic  in my face but the surgeon was very handsome.Greek…
Anyway I went out today with no sun cream on and that is really wicked when you’ve had what I had but the hypothalamus gland needs sunlight so my brother tells me.I have three brothers plus my aide P so I have plenty of men to tell me what to do or not to do.Still you can’t marry your brother can you? I wonder what the priest would say about that.I rest my case.By gum, it was heavy.I’ll take to drink

I HAVE desired to go

http://www.bartleby.com/122/2.html

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89).  Poems.  1918.
2. Heaven—Haven
 http://www.bartleby.com/122/2.html
A nun takes the veil

http://www.bartleby.com/122/2.html

    I HAVE desired to go
      Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
    And a few lilies blow.
    And I have asked to be         5
      Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
    And out of the swing of the sea.
See Notes.