Some evenings, the sky turned pink
We were happy, lying in the grass
watching the sun set,
arms around each other.
Seemed like eternal life had come
Earlier than forecast
.
Those weathermen are often wrong!
They need new training.
I shall remember you
in that timeless moment
in between two raindrops,
in between two tears
I saw my house uprooted like a tree
Great roots were severed, how I ached to see
And all was tossed without my love and care
Bits of earth fell from the roots. now bare.
Barbaric in its mad intensity
I wept the tears of grief for you, for me.
Our home attacked,destroyed and I lie here.
Putting out the flames with profuse tears
Lamenting for my love who died within
The collapsing of my world now with no sun
The house a symbol of our marriage true
Cannot stand without a me and you
So my vision passed and I am here
My memories are my only souvenir
Instead, I possessed a unique ability to find suffering in even the best of circumstances.
Olga Khazan
I saw a phrase which interested me which is the following
Deconstruct eternity
Philosophical stereo called deconstruction which I think was invented by Jacques Derrida
On the face of it deconstructing eternity sounds very peculiar since eternity is so enormous, in a sense. Could you breaj it down?
Well insight it comes from a book about post traumatic stress disorder and it seems to mean the following
If you have a flashback and our reliving the trauma that caused your problems, apparently you will feel as if it’s going to last forever or that it’s going to keep coming back to you forever and.
Apparently this is not true so that’s what they mean that even if you feel something terrible is happening and it’s going to last forever don’t believe it because it won’t. At least it’s never happened to anybody
The term is used in a misleading way in my opinion because it’s not eternity that you’re deconstructing it’s your own thoughts.
And it’s very good idea not to believe all of your own thoughts as with an article in the Guardian about this poor woman who feels she’s very ugly.
It’s not because he looks at Navara and think she’s ugly it’s because she has what are called intrusive thoughts. These intrusive thoughts are all like a voice nagging her that she’s ugly and eventually she’s come to believe it but why should you believe it just because either something in your own self or even another person keeps telling you that you’re ugly. Don’t believe what people say necessarily because they may have ulterior motives like you break up with your boyfriend and he says
Well I didn’t really want to stay with you permanently because you’re so ugly.
That sounds as if he is upset by you deserting him or throwing him out and he tries to make himself feel better by saying that you are ugly
to have these thoughts that you’re ugly coming from somewhere inside you again it seems like you’re dissatisfied with yourself but you didn’t make yourself you grew from the Union of two cells
Nature has created you and even frogs and toads are thought to be beautiful by their mates
So why should you feel you’re ugly just because you’re not like some famous film star because most of us are not lack of famous film star and it’s probably fortunate because if you want to pursue a career in a serious manner being very beautiful can be a handicap. Let’s face it how many people are really really beautiful? Well it’s all dependence isn’t it if I love my friend to me she is beautiful regardless of conventional wisdom about the subject
Some black people think that white people are more beautiful and on the other hand many white people feel that black people are more beautiful more graceful more adept it running and other bodily activities but can you compare on to another? Not really but if you are looking for a mate, you find someone who’s beautiful to you not to the general public at large. If you see what I mean
Shock in the Sunday Times today
Someone who has inherited a house in Rhyl when she already owns a house herself and therefore now has two houses it’s complaining about having to pay the increased council tax at the government imposed. It is not as if she bought the house!
Well one and one often makes two.
The Sunday Times is really getting terrible now putting in these stories just to get a lot of comments. Just like the daily mail I suppose
The condition is curable But the form of treatment must be your own choice: I cannot choose for you. [T. S. Eliot, “The Cocktail Party”
Why did Jesus wear sandals?
Because nobody went running in the Holy Land. That’s why it took them 40 years to cross the desert. And to think there was no bathroom anywhere in sight
Is God a pacifist?
Do zebras have stripes?
Why did Jesus walk on the water?
To escape from the quicksands
Why did Jesus feed the 5,000?
That was the biggest number they could think of when writing the New Testament
Why did Jesus cross the road?
Because the other side was lower.
Why do we learn arithmetic in school?
Because it would be boring in school with nothing to do
Why do we have to learn to read in school?
So you can go on the internet on your phone and get into trouble arguing on political forums. And you can also look at pornography.
Who could have been the first person who learned to read?
It must have been the first person who invented writing because until there was writing there couldn’t be any reading
Did Adam and Eve have a library?
Nobody could read what God had written.
Did Cain and Abel go to a comprehensive school?
Well it didn’t teach comprehensive morals did it?
What would God think of VAT on private school fees?
Jesus didn’t need to go to school.
What would God think about double council tax on second homes?
God only has one home.
Why are rich people averse to paying more tax?
Because they don’t want to get through the eye of the needle.
If you are forced to give money to the poor it’s not an act of virtue.
Well it still helps the poor though.
When Jesus rose they asked him how it was
Being crucified upon a cross
I think it must be trauma, someone said
REM might help you sort your head
Jesus stared at them with his great eyes
It isn’t a mere trauma when God dies
Now we have new wars and children bleed
Human sacrifice, where monsters feed.
When Jesus died the sky was black as night
He will rise again and be our Light
Mary was admiring the rowan tree outside her window when she saw Annie running down the street
Well Annie I didn’t know that you could still run so fast:why are you coming here in such a breathless state?
Oh it’s my New Year resolution: don’t you know that running is very good for you?
Wlell in theory that might be true but when you’re over 80 is it a good time to start?
I have no choice because I didn’t start when I was younger and time doesn’t go backwards.
Would you like some breakfast? I have some very nice bread here from the bakery and some lovely honey from Devon.
They at down at the kitchen table.
Where did you get your running shoes from, Mary asked her friend?
Oh I think they belonged to my husband. They were in the wardrobe and as I like the colour blue I thought what’s the point of buying new ones?
Well,stone the crows I am amazed you never needed an excuse to buy new shoes before even though you have 78 pairs already.
How do you know tl I have got 78 ,,?
Well I like the number 78 because it’s divisible by 13. So I counted your shoes to see if they would fit the pattern as I have got 65 pears.
And did Stan have 52 pairs ?
Of course not he was a man: men don’t have so many shoes. It dates back to when shoes had to be polished. No man would like to polish 52 pairs of shoes nor come to that would have liked to polish 13 If you have 13 pairs of shoes that will be one pair each for the 12 disciples of Jesus and Jesus himself at the Last Supper although if there were any folk serving the food there would not be enough for them. Why am I saying all these ridiculous things?
And any way how does being divisible by 13 help you or the world or in particular Sir Keir Starmer?
It’s hard to explain it but it just pleases me somehow maybe it’s a distraction from reality.
What is reality anyway Annie asked her rudely
Why it’s just like being back at Oxford with iris Murdoch as our tutor
You seem to forget that I did not go to Oxford; well I have been to the station of course but I never was matriculated there nor anywhere else for that matter. I did go into Marks and Spencer’s there though
Well you’re in good company because 99.99% of the world did not matriculate at Oxford. Most of them don’t even speak English and would not know what matriculation means. But they would all love to go into Marks and Spencers
Words are very interesting because sometimes we read words that we’ve never heard anyone say and we are likely to misspeak
Well I don’t know what anything means, to be honest.
Do you put a comma after means; it’s because if you don’t it’s a completely different sentence?
I see that you don’t know what it means to be honest Is that what you’re trying to tell me?
As long as you don’t use the term fake news I will be quite content with whatever you say whether or not I’ve ever heard the words before.
Give me some examples please
Mishap and awry
You have to see them written down and imagine you’ve never seen them before nor have you heard anyone say them and then you realize the problem unless you are very stupid in which case you won’t know if and your life will go on like a wide river flowing down slowly and gently into the sea with no great waves to drown any animals or people who are not being careful
Now I feel sleepy I wonder if I am awake or asleep. Am I really writing the story or am I just imagining it
How could I know?
How would you know that you know or that you knew,?
Do you know something Annie I think I’ll get married again because when you’re married to a man you don’t have conversations like this do you?
You are so right Mary.
I am so sorry that I am not a man. Evening by try to pretend to be a man I don’t think now my mind would change sufficiently to please you by a totally different kind of conversations not to mention other things that men and women might get up to in private.
Well I think it’s getting a bit late now so why don’t we stop here and then tomorrow we will make a new start
Can we make some new year resolutions ?
Well we can but we should think very carefully first and then we should think even more carefully afterwards.
Oh this is getting on my nerves why do we have to keep thinking all the time?
Do cats think;do eagle think?
Isn’t it wonderful that there are so many questions that don’t have any answers in the system in which we are enmeshed?
Now just stop that We’ve already had one Wittgenstein. I’m not sure if the world can take another one.
The best thing I’m going to do tomorrow is making a cake from a very old recipe that was handed down to me from my grandmother. And it’s got lots of ground almonds in it which are very nutritious as well as being delicious
That’s the best idea you’ve had tonight
My New Year resolution is to start to make cakes again at home and then to invite our friends around on Sunday afternoon to eat them
Well what else could they do with them?
And so say all of us
We once had a doctor called Brown
Who was teased by the men of the town
They could not see sense
As they counted the pence
Which left Gordon Brown with a frown
Daddy, how we missed you when you died
I had not been told when I was five
Come back,Daddy,miss your smiling eyes
We were told that we must never cry
When the cancer took your earthly life
Daddy, how you suffered ,then you died
When you wanted company, I tried
I was too articulate to thrive
Come back,Daddy,miss my Daddy’s eyes
By the flower beds, you wanted a guide
You wanted me to talk.I really tried.
Daddy we fell down a black hole, why d’y die?
You slept all alone, the pain arrived
We slept with our mammy, on your side
Come back,Daddy, don’t you miss my eyes?
I always hum like you did though I’m shy
You are singing through me, close and wise
Daddy, we still miss you and your pride
Come back,Daddy, teach me how to cry.
While Mary sat in the kitchen on a large pine chair looking at Hotter’s latest shoe catalogue,Annie was creeping up the garden path in a pair of turquoise suede elegantly heeled shoes matching her teal tencel culottes and blouse.Round her neck was a large lump of amber on a gold chain handy for beating off muggers or lustful men and women
Despite the heat she was in full splendour with golden beige tinted moisturiser from Langone of Lyons on her lovely complexion,pink eyeshadow from Yves St Current and dark brown boot polish as her mascara had run out and she’d not been out for a while to buy more
Annie ran the last few yards and darted like an eel into Mary’s 1970’s orange kitchen.
What on earth are you doing,dear? Mary asked her.Those shoes look unsuitable for leading anyone up the garden path.Mind you,I do like them
Oh,I’ll explain,Annie said huskily.
I told that psychotherapist across the road I was living with you.
What exactly do you mean by living,Mary asked anxiously.
Well,he said yesterday that anyone who lives alone must be lacking in some way.Except for him of course as he had full analysis with Alfred Zion.
You mean Wilfred Bion,Mary told her.
Zion,Bion,what’s the difference?
It shows your lack of education,Mary told her.Not that education nowadays makes much difference when almost anyone can get a 2.2
.After all would you pay £90,000 for a fourth class degree in Aeronautical Engineering?
And Zion is in the Bible
That’s not quite what I would have done, said Annie.A degree in flirtation and pleasing men would be more up my street.And cooking of course although I once did have an interest in Hebrew and Aramaic.
It’s not a way to progress in a neo-liberal economy,although reading the Hebrew Bible is always interesting.Personally I prefer that to the New Vex-a man.The stories,the love songs,the action.Mary’s round eyes gleamed with intellectual life and a bit of languorous lust
How about God? Annie asked her.
He seems to have changed as he related to his people.But he was a friend despite being an abstract concept.Though one could hardly call him a concept as he is inconceivable.
Mary’s voice faltered as she was stunned by her own articulacy and wondered what she might say next that could offend millions around the globe with modern technology beinf so widespread
You should write a book,Annie said kindly.
I think I am ill-equipped to write about God.And ,also ,I am saddened to see how his own people have been treated.I can’t dwell on it over much as I already feel weak and weepy.
Why what have you been doing,asked Annie.
I have been sorting out clothes to give to the hospice shop. I’ve got a big bag
full already and 2 bags of newspapers and rubbish of various kinds which somehow creeps into my bedroom… tissues,cotton wool, old hairbrushes.I am hoping to get it nice and neat before my sister comes to see me in August.And no doubt she will not be happy even then.She’d like me to buy a small new flat with a lovely bathroom and kitchen. But I don’t want to leave my neighbours behind.If I won the lottery I could get the neighbours to move as well.Love thy neighbour etc
And now I realise I have far too many pans despite burning several.But it’s a big decision for a woman who was famed for entertaining friends with scorching Beef Vindaloo and lemon mousse that looked like yellow rubber.Giving that up is a big wrench.
Why can’t you carry on, asked Annie.
Carrying on is precisely why I can’t do it.Now I am a widow the wives of my former colleagues and my own women friends are afraid I will steal their husbands.
Emile miaowed in ecstasy as any talk about the love lives of his family were always intriguing.He was hiding as usual behind the stone flour bin.
Don’t you see,said Annie.If we pretend we are living together then you can mingle with men without suspicion.
This is beginning to sound like a spy story,Mary told her.And do not drag me into a character part in the play based on your romantic love for that psychoanalyst.
He looks ugly and boring to me.
Oh,that’s just a projection,Annie told her.You are defending yourself against acknowledging how much you long to lie in his arms and let him smother you in kisses.
Well,said Mary,I see you have been reading Freud for beginners again.
Or is it Freud for Dummies?
Mary recalled how nice her dummy used to taste when it was dipped into a jar of malt and codliver oil.Maybe that is the answer,she thought.
I’m going to Mothercare,she called as she ran out of the house in her green trainers and denim trouser suit.See you later.
Annie sat in the kitchen wondering how soon she could see the psychoanalyst again without being accused of sexual harassment.Even old age has not deterred her from seeking a replacement for dear old Stan.A few tears ran down her cheek and Emile jumped out and sat on her knee.
[Image by my sister]
Stan was standing on a small step ladder washing his windows yet again with a clean blue microfibre and elastane cloth and some windolene he had bought in Tesco’s
I don’t know why I bother,he whispered to Emile, who as usual was watching from the back of the sofa,which he was “milking” gently with his paws.
With all the rain,the outside of the windows was besmirched by leaves and bits of mud.A wiser man might have left it alone but Stan had O.C.D which made him very nervous if he failed to carry out certain tasks… so he made use of it in house chores and baking perfect cakes and buns..and in taking photos of frogs,birds and flowers.Neurosis can be useful sometimes.
All of a sudden he heard clattering footsteps…
Up the garden path walked two women dressed in the latest style of 3/4 length silk cargo trousers with matching blouses, all in a subtle shade of violet.Except for their faces,of course,which were both a light shade of beige and they had Revlon peach blusher on their cheeks with Chanel scarlet lipstick…on their lips.They also wore dark blue nail varnish from Rimmel
“Good morning,Stan!” called one of them.”We are Annie’s ‘s cousins from Pittsburgh.She told us to call on you today.”
“Well,I never knew wearing expensive makeup ran in the genes… can there be any other explanation?”Stan asked stupidly.
“Annie told us we must wear it all the time in the UK.” she responded,”even in bed.”
“You seem a bit fast,” he answered,
“I’m not sure I want to go to bed and as you seem like identical twins,which of you should I bed?”
They burst out laughing….oh,what a strange noise that seemed to this sweet old man
“I was just saying what she told us,not meaning that you need to go to bed with us.In fact, we sleep together at night.”
“As children that would be normal,but don’t you think you should separate now?People might think you are gay!”
“We never worry about stuff like that… and by the way,this is Ruby and I am Rosie.”
“I’ll put on the kettle and make you some coffee,” the dear and anxious man said in a kind tone of voice,before he went into the kitchen and swallowed a handful of red and green striped valium tablets.
“I wish the psychiatrist would give me some therapy.I don’t like taking valium but I seem to be having visions again… and I don’t want to get worse..I never heard Annie mention cousins in the USA. I wonder if CBT would help me?” he said to Emile.
“I see visions all the time,” the cat replied in a matter of fact and calm way.
“Do they not make you feel anxious?”Stan called.
“No,I just watch them drift by,” purred Emile.”I enjoy them.”
“I wish these two women would drift off.”responded the weary yet charming Stan.
Ruby and Rosie came inside and admired the kitchen where colanders in many colours hung from the wall into which someone had knocked a few dozen nails.
“”Why do you have sixteen colanders?”asked Rosie.
“Why do you think everything has a reason?”Stan replied.
“I can see you studied philosophy,” Ruby cried disconsolately as she loved an argument
“No,I have just read Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein eight times,” he quipped merrily.
“Wow,is it not boring?” they murmured softly like two doves in spring time
“No.it’s so good it put me off reading lesser books.And I love to understand things,”
Just then Stan tripped on the rug and fell over. unconscious.
.Emile picked up his mobile with its full Qwerty key pad and texted 999.
“Why are you texting?”asked Ruby.
“Well,it difficult to mioaw down a phone and now I have this Blackberry it’s so easy…. why even a mouse could do it.”
“Do you know many mice,Emile?” enquired Ruby wistfully as she felt very lonely at times
Rosie slowly made some instant coffee, walking around poor Stan ,unconscious on the floor…and she and her twin sat down on some white Swedish chairs at the old oak table and drank it,gazing shyly at the huge weigelia blooming outside in the shed.
The front door opened and in ran Dave,the bisexual paramedic.
“Is it you,Emile.Have you lost your hankie again.Are you sad?” he moaned nervously.
“No,it’s Stan… but at least he’s not broken the chair”
Stan came too and looked up. at Dave.
“Oh, lovely,I feel much better for that nap” he said brightly as he was such a positive person..
“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in?” said Ruby querulously.”I like your mean expression,my dear man.”
“Now,look here said Stan,”I’m too old for any monkey business. Besides,I don’t know if you are real.”
“We just wondered why you slept on the floor.”
“A man has to do what a man has to do,” came the mystifying response.
“Now that Dave is here,he can take one of you and I’ll take the other.”
“Where will you take us”the twins asked delightedly.
“Do you fancy the cinema… they are showing Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday”
“Don’t tell me he’s still on his summer holiday!” riposted Ruby
“Let’s go in the ambulance.I’ll lie on the stretcher” offered Rosie generously..
“I’ll lie by you,”said Dave.” and Emile can drive.Stan and Ruby can lie on the floor.”
Sometimes life seems so simple,it’s rather like a dream controlled..
Controlled by what,asked Emile,clutching his Blackberry.
But answer came there none…
And that was very odd because.. they’d vanished every one…
To read more,why not take out a subscription?At just £100 a day,it’s value for money…as money no longer has any value!
After hours of rumination Mary decided that she would make herself a new hat for the winter. It only took one ounce of mohair,she read in her Wild Knitting book.
Of course we’d have to buy some new knitting needles in a size 5 and a size 6.5 millimeters. That was her thought ml
Still they would be an investment in her future where she saw herself wearing a mohair coat as well.
What about a poncho she pondered?
And they would make good presents for people, the little hats.
(That’s how Northern people speak they put the subject at the end of the sentence)
As she was eating her lunch she saw a cat at the top of the apple tree.
But was it just a cat? It was very large wity thick grey fur and a broad grey tail.
Even after distance its eyes looked orange.
Could it be a demon released during the riots we recently enjoyed in Britain?
She wondered if the tree was strong enough for this large animal. Well I’m not going to get the ladder out just for somebody else’s cat it is a cat she muttered to herself in a kindly manner.
Because Mary had been reading that the main cause of all illnesses is hostility!
Especially if you are hostile to yourself which is something that used to be encouraged in children to keep them submissive.
Well I think I’ll go and have a bath,Mary said to Emile who was asleep in a basket.
And then I can use my new Elizabeth Arden bluegrass deodorant . That should keep me safe but from what?
But is it a deodorant or is it an antiperspirant?
We will have to see but she has read that stopping perspiration is a mistake.
How lovely it is to have hot water in the house and not to have to boil the kettle to wash your hair. Waiting for the kettle to boil on a coal fire is rather tedious especially for teenagers.While Mary was in the bath, she heard the front door open but she was not alarmed because it was probably her neighbour Annie.
After a few minutes she heard a hand on the bathroom door and in stepped a man of about her own age.
What do you think you’re doing she said to him sternly.
Well I needed to go to the toilet and I’ve just got home so naturally I have come to the bathroom.
But this is not your home said. Mary
Well my key fitted into the door and if your key fits the door surely that must be your home.
Yes that seems likely yet there is a strong probability but maybe the locksmith in the main road here has made a mistake and had two locks with the same key fitting them.
Do you think he planned that? Are you and the locksmith in league to commit some crimes?
I’m terribly sorry said the man but if I was a criminal I wouldn’t have come into the bathroom and let you see my face. I would just have gone the room is downstairs looking for computers televisions and anything else that had some value.
I suppose that’s true said Mary well in any case don’t you realize it’s embarrassing for me to be naked in front of a stranger?
Well I’m a doctor I’m used to seeing people with no clothes on
Go downstairs and go into the hall where you will see a door into the cloak room where there is a toilet and the wash basin and then you can satisfy your needs wash your hands and then you can go into the kitchen and put the kettle on to make a cup of tea for me when I have dressed again
You can have one as well if you like.
Thank you said the man you a very hospitable woman.
He said his name was Alexander Bruges before he headed away to find the cloakroom
What road do you live in Mary asked as they drank the tea.
I think it’s on the other side of the park it’s called Cedar Lane.
Anywhere tomorrow I will go to the locksmith and tell him about what has happened to us today and ask him to put a new lock on my door.
That’s very sensible
st Mary and prudent in case I should inadvertently head to your house.
Do you think he will charge you since it’s his fault?
Well he buys these keys and locks from the manufacturer he doesn’t make them himself but he can complain to them about it and get the money back from them it he is not happy.
Considering the violence with experienced in Britain recently in riots and verbal aggression not to mention try to set hotels full of asylum seekers on fire it is very nice to meet someone decent.
And by the way do you know what this big grey animal is in my garden?
The animal was now peering through the kitchen door.
Could it be a demon Mary enquired nervously.
No it’s an American cat.
I believe it’s a Mayne coon.
Were they living in the United States before our people went over there and stole the land from the Indian peoply
Do you know I haven’t got the faintest idea Alexander said politely but you can look yourself on Google.
The cat was now uttering somewhat plaintive cries.
I wonder what is wrong with that cat
Surely he doesn’t want to use the bathroom as well!
That’s right there’s going to be a queue for it.
Well I will have to go home now Alexander told Mary but I will make a note of your door number and I will come around and put it invitation through your door to invite you to a meal. I’m quite good at cooking.
Yes my husband was good at cooking but he mostly made the savoury dishes because he thought that puddings and a lot more needed the female touch.
What about jellies Alexander said pleasantly. I have made orange jellies with great success.
Well you know if you are sensitive to the feelings of the oranges as you cut them up then I think your jelly will turn out okay.
But if you attack the oranges with the carving knives I think you will be a failure and you might even harm yourself as well by accident.
Remember hostility is the main cause of disease especially cancer and heart trouble.
Well we live and learn Alex said as he opened the door. Life will be very boring if we stop learning.
Well mother said Emile congratulations on getting a new man without even joining a date site.
What can cats know about such things she cried nonchalantly
The little cat did not speak but he knew that human beings would be very surprised if he revealed everything that cats know.
When red sun drops and cooling night rolls in
Darkness masks both danger and our vision
Ancient minds fear day won’t come again
Courage for the delicate seems thin
We wrestle with our indecision
When low sun drops and a new night rolls in
But now , fresh stricken by the dread of sin
Who protects us from derision?
Our ancient mind fears day won’t come again
As we sleep we’re entertained within
Bold dreams squander all illusion
When sunset comes the darkest night rolls in
In dreams we see new life arising
Then fancy turns to full communion
The ancient mind dreads day won’t come again
Despite such angst, our sacred life began
When sperm leaped up in proud confusion.
When deep sun dropped and a new night rolled in
All human hearts cried,Day shall come again”
Maybe there are not many people who become published poets or novelists over the age of 60 but there are some like Mary Wesley who was 70 I believe
Apart from maybe having less energy I don’t know of any definite reason to stop anyone from trying to do any tthing
And it is not a brilliant intellect or genius light skills.. it is not those that matter what really matters is that you’re not afraid of producing imperfect work making a mess or making a fool of yourself
I don’t mean tha5 if you produce a horrible poem that nobody would like to read that you should go around trying to force people to read it. You will eventually have to judge is the value of what you produce but you won’t produce anything good until you’ve produced a lot of work with some of which will be good.. eventually if you keep trying. I never supposed that I was earn a living from my writing.
But it is very interesting trying to write a poem and it’s good when some people that you know are interested and want to read your writing.
But it’s not something that you will get fame from etc No you will enjoy doing it if you have the courage. And as we get older we need to have interests that we can pursue at home if necessary in case we become disabled, It’s the worthwhile activity. Nowadays it seems to be expected that you’ll find your later years watching the television
But there are other alternatives and for art I would suggest that is better to go to a class at least at the beginning even if you want to go for a year or two only because that will give you a start and give you basic knowledge and to see what other people are producing. I had four years as a class and I was very impressed with the work of many of these students who were mainly retired people and they did not realize how good they were.
If you really feel afraid of exposing yourself to really heal back producing really bad poetry or stories or anything else maybe you should try baking instead.
Baking is a rewarding activity both in the making of bread and cakes and in the eating of them not to mention the lovely smell in the house when the oven is on and full of nice things
One thing I have found with art or writing is it feels like me I recognize myself in it whereas with mathematics I don’t feel like that at all even doing research it did not feel like me possibly because there’s no room for the idiosyncratic and the personal in mathematics Anyone could have proved that theorem.
Anybody could paint a picture of a tree but there’s no one picture of the tree that is the real picture they’re all feet of response to the outside world and their relationship with it whereas mathematics is impersonal
Finally why do any of these things at all? Well because it’s beneficial to try to keep relating to the world whatever age you are
It’s nice when somebody likes your work but I think many of us would do it even if no one else ever read it
And I suppose I should say I lost a friend because this person told me when I first began that my poetrt it was no good and I should stop doing it immediately. And when I didn’t she was very angry. So maybe she wasn’t really a friend because if your friends are trying new skills and new hobbies or even trying to produce the best-selling novel please do not discourage them in any way even if you are jealous
If you are jealous then it means that you are not using your own skills your own talents and that’s what you’ve got to do so use the jealousy as source of energy to get you going to say I’m sure I could write something as good as that or as interesting as that or as terrible as that
But don’t pay a vanity publisher 500 pounds it’s a produce a book of your writing unless you have taken their advice of some good friends
Because unfortunately we are not always good judges of our own writing and we can see the joy and pleasure of producing something with the joy that we would get if we produce something wonderful.
Babies like to play in the mud and make mud pies and they enjoy very much but this does not mean that the mud pies are beautiful to other people
So play in the mud by all means but don’t expect everybody to value your productions as much as you do yourself which is a rather dismal note on which to end but it’s it proves that it’s good for you to do it but you need some guidance if you want to go further with it.
I once played the doctor at snooker
He said the trump has fallen under the cooker
I said, is he flat?
What makes you say that?
He’s not flat he’s gone even crookeder
As I mentioned the other day when you are eight years old you will get an extra 25 pence a week on your state pension which comes to 13 pounds a year
There are approximately 3.4 million people in the United Kingdom sged over 80
The government could save 44.2 million pounds per annum by doing away with this.
Why has nobody told him?
Should a chancellor could save
Found guilty of committing a crime
Now I am serving my time;
To this jail, I lately was sent
For loitering without intent.
I was standing inside a large Mall,
Though I had bought nothing at all.
The judge says it’s bad for the pound
We should all make an effort to spend.
So the tax payer is spending on me,
Is that good for the economy?
Now I am lingering in here,
Imbibing the prison atmosphere.
Strangeways makes an excellent setting
For the new novel I’ve been plotting.
You can live quite freely in prison,
If you possess John Bunyan’s true vision.
When I have finished this term
I will not have this lesson to learn
“If you really want to do naught………………
Don’t do it where you might get caught”
Dear All
Well, I don’t write a letter very often, but after finding a replica of my old pen on E bay I decided to do a Round Robin.
First of all, none of my children have got into Oxford or Cambridge nor have my grandchildren.They are all on the dim side but that is how I like them.I think IQ is very over rated and as mine is 65 when tested you realise I am a mere imbecile and so my ten children take after me.
They all got degrees from places I’d never heard of like Chester, Bolton, Ormskirk, and Hendon.However, as I once lost a job offer from a well known university because I wore an engagement ring I kind of thought being a low flyer might be better.
My brother is very nice.He is changed very much since we were adolescents when he was too put it mildly a pain.He has now told me I am in the top 0.1% of intelligence in the world.Imagine 99.9% of the world’s population has an IQ of 64 or less.Don’t expect an imbecile to explain that
I can believe it about our delightful politicians, Theresa Paybum and Horace Yawnsome and their ilk.
My children have done well.One is a violinist in Berlin.As I never go there I cannot be sure if she is lying but she does speak good German or for all I know it might be Yiddish as my great aunt was familiar with that old tongue.Perhaps my daughter is really playing the Jewish harp in a liberal Synagogue.And believe me, it would have to be very liberal to let that flame haired temptress near any man. married or single Is it her fault she is so attractive?After all, she is my daughter and blew dry every hair daily as a teen
My eldest son had to miss an exam before he was accepted at Ormskirk Dental School.You see with 21 GCSE’s grade A star they wanted him to go to Cambridge but he knew his own limits He hates formality
.He preferred being near the great Nature Reserves of the estuary of the Mersey and Nature and its exploration has kept him busy.
Why he even spends whole days in the Mersey Tunnel.He said he wants to find the Universiy of New Brighton but he is still in the tunnel.I said I’d buy him a motorbike but he prefers walking everywhere and camping on the verges of the road maybe giving relief to a few virgins en passant
Being a virgin nowadays is very hard socially.But as a Spanish waiter once said to me ” One virgin is very hard to find” Maybe two are easier…I’m an embecile. so I can’t say
My second daughter is married and lives in Poole. She often walks around the Isle of Purbeck with the triplets in her back pack.How her husband stands her I cannot get.She is lazy and unable to cook even frozen chips.However, the babies are still on the breast and there is a McDonald’s nearby.Her Ph.D was on “Cats in Modern Physics”.She had a wonderful tutor at Wigan University.Why, he married her! Then he got a job in Bournemouth. which is by the sea!She always was lucky.Apart from givinh birth to three boys all at once,if you see what I mean.
How she snagged him I do not know as she has little hair and wears thick glasses but her thesis was the first of its kind.Now everyone is doing animals in abstract mathematics.Or going to Art School to paint like an animal!With your paws!
Well, it’s time for me to warm my frozen pizza on the coal fire so I’ll leave the rest for next time.Don’t take an IQ test.I used to think I was quite bright before.
Au revoir
Katy Krispberger {Siren]
There were three of us on this motorbike,
Father Dan with me,
And he had Jesus in his bag.
That makes the total three.
Transubstantiation, oh my Lord
I looked at his black bag.
Is Jesus inside there, I thought?
Should it have a tag?
It’s a secret never told
Father Dan gave it me to hold.
So I had Jesus in my lap,
No wonder now I feel a gap.
We zoomed off up an unmade road
As fast as Dan could go.
I felt bewildered and bemused,
I loved my Daddy so.
Father Dan took back his bag,
And went inside our house.
I got my marbles out to roll,
I feared I’d see a mouse.
So Three of had taken a ride
And after that, my Dad had died.
Father Dan said Mass today
Still with Jesus, so I cried.
The average is said to be nine years of age I a child who’s been to school for four years.
It doesn’t say what kind of average it is but being the average is a measure of the central tendency of the data which means that it’s in the middle and therefore a large number of adults in Britain would have a reading edge of less than 9.
To be functionally literate that is able to participate in society and to understand government publications and medical information etc you need a reading between nine and eleven
At least 15% of the population are less than that I believe it’s lot more than 15%
What is worrying is that a lot of NHS staff cannot properly understand electronic records etc and I wonder if some of the problems in the NHS are related to this
Surely turning out functionally literate adults and training NHS workers in dealing with modern technologies should be paramount in society
It’s hard to imagine what it’s like to be functionally illiterate or unable to read a newspaper like the Guardian the Times or the Independent
This is probably why so many people look for the news on Facebook and they do not understand that all the media including the newspapers I’ve mentioned above do actually twist the news in some way can
I read the digital Times and it’s very obvious that they want to destroy this government. Sometimes more than once a week they are still publishing articles about how terrible it is that parents who send their children to boarding schools have to pay VAT now
Only 7% of children go to private schools so clearly it’s not really going to affect most of the population yet if you read the times you imagine it was on all our minds all the time worrying about it
I don’t agree with all the government are doing but it’s wrong to twist things around so much to give a totally false impression
Even if you have a good reading age it does not mean that what you think is always going to be sensible. People believe things when there is no evidence for it and believe that if they have an idea about something it must be correct without looking for any further evidence than what happens to come into their head
The constantly said the government are doing what they are doing because they’re envious of the wealthy. Maybe some people are envious of the very wealthy. My view is it most people would like a little bit more money but they’re not groaning with Envy which will destroy their lives.
And yet so much of our communication today is defined by a rather ungenerous unwillingness to listen coupled with a compulsion to speak.
“Words,” Ursula K. Le Guin wrote in her abiding meditation on the magic of real human communication, “transform both speaker and hearer; they feed energy back and forth and amplify it. They feed understanding or emotion back and forth and amplify it.” But what happens in a cultural ecosystem where the hearer has gone extinct and the speaker gone rampant? Where do transformation and understanding go? What made, for instance, James Baldwin and Margaret Mead’s superb 1970 dialogue about race and identity so powerful and so enduringly insightful is precisely the fact that it was a dialogue — not the ping-pong of opinions and co-reactivity that passes for dialogue today, but a commitment to mutual contemplation of viewpoints and considered response. That commitment is the reason why they were able to address questions we continue to confront with tenfold more depth and nuance than we are capable of today. And the dearth of this commitment in our present culture is the reason why we continue to find ourselves sundered by confrontation and paralyzed by the divisiveness of “us vs. them” narratives. “To bother to engage with problematic culture, and problematic people within that culture, is an act of love,” wrote the poet Elizabeth Alexander in contemplating power and possibility. Krista Tippett calls such engagement generous listening. And yet so much of our communication today is defined by a rather ungenerous unwillingness to listen coupled with a compulsion to speak.
Charles Dickens,the great novelist of Victorian England
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Dickens
Fiction is invented,of course, by novelists and writers.And we also have lies which are slightly different.The truth of fiction when well done comes from the use of the true imagination based on genuine interactions with what is other than ourselves and is a way of depicting the truths of the heart.
The true imagination can only be effective when it is not fantasy based on mere wish fulfillment.To me that is what Buddhism is about.We desire nothing in order to get everything and more.
Lies,on the other hand ,may be for purposes of manipulating other people or may be the product of fantasy which is common in children who “make believe” they are having a birthday party because they want one so much.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_best-selling_fiction_authors
I might say fictional writing in novels or poetry using the true imagination helps us to understand complex reality better..Lies can be very destructive.And we have the kind of language used in the novel 1984 by George Orwell where black can mean white and death merely.termination of life…. we have begun to hear a lot of this and it does have an utterly bad and even destructive effect on personal and political life.The most famous example is when some politician was lying but it was referred to as being “Economy with the truth”.It’s our intentions which count to in making us moral agents.We may lie so smoothly we feel it will have no illl effect.
Imagining what it is like to be another person as in Dicken’s great novels about the poor is very powerful and can change government policy via changing people’s hearts and minds.
I feel imagination does have this purpose of making us feel for others and bring us closer even to murderers and criminals when the writer makes their world something we can comprehend.
Reality is very complex which is one reason we have all the arts,science,mysticism,religion as they all look at or relate to different aspects of life.
Plain lying is a selfish activity for our personal benefit or to avoid trouble when we have misbehaved.And we weave a web of destruction
http://home.btconnect.com/mike.flemming/
Click to access Religion_as_Poetic_Truth.pdf
Religion as Poetic Truth
A lightly edited transcript of an impromptu talk by Mark F. Sharlow
How much truth is there in the religions of the world? How many of their beliefs are true? Before trying to answer that question, I’d like to mention an example that shows how intricate the question of truth can sometimes be. Think about poetry. The poet Carl Sandburg once wrote a poem titled “Fog,” in which he used these lines: The fog comes on little cat feet. Now, is Sandburg’s statement true or not? When you think about the fog coming in over a coastline, as in Sandburg’s poem, do you find those lines true? The answer to that question could be “no,” because there are no cat feet on the fog – no matter how hard you look under the fog, you won’t find cat feet. Or the answer could be “yes,” because those lines describe exquisitely a certain experience of what it feels like when you’re in a place where the fog is coming in. You know what I mean, if you’ve ever been there – that strange hushing, that strange softness that your surroundings develop. It’s a subjective experience, but it’s a real part of your awareness. So, are Sandburg’s lines true? The answer is yes or no, depending on whether what you mean is 1 literal truth – truth of the kind that a scientist would consider true – or poetic truth. If you mean literal truth, then the lines are not true (of course). But if you think of the lines as possibly describing an experience, as being poetically true in that sense, then they are true. Those lines do describe something real – a real subjective feature of your awareness and of your surroundings – even though there really aren’t any feet under the fog. I’d like to propose that we think of most of the beliefs of the major religions of the world in this way. These beliefs might not be literally true, but at least in some cases – at least for the central beliefs shared by most religions – they might be true in some other way. They might point to a significant truth, even though they aren’t literally true. The prime belief of this sort would be belief in God. Now, some people think of God as a being who created the universe and who created everything in the universe, including living species, by supernatural means, by just bringing them into being (boom! there they are), instead of natural causes creating the things in the universe. If this is exactly how you define God, then there is no God. Why? Because things have natural causes. Many things have been found to have natural causes, and biological species, as one prime example, have been found to have natural causes through evolution. So if that’s what you mean by “God,” then there is no God. But the answer is different if what you mean by “God” is a divine presence in the world, some entity or feature of reality that can be regarded as divine – which means, at a minimum, that it’s worthy of our highest admiration and love, and somehow represents and embodies all that is good. If that’s what you mean by God, then there could well be a God. I’ve argued in some of my writings that there is a being like that. It’s what philosophers would call an “abstract entity” – not a ghostly spiritual substance, but an entity that can be known to us as a feature of the world and of things in the world. This entity is a suitable focus for our highest love, because it is shown or manifested in all that is beautiful and good, including the people we love. It is not just some force or some object devoid of spiritual qualities. Instead, it has enough mindlike features that we can regard it as a “someone” instead of a mere “something.” However, it is not what we usually think of as a “person.” I know I’m being rather vague and sketchy here, but I’ve spelled it all out before, in my writings on the subject of God.
| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
| George Herbert. 1593–1632 |
| . Love by George Herbert |
How my heart sings 