Mary went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.She no longer feared to see Satan, as compared to many living and dead human beings he seemed almost an angel.
Her hair was standing on end and she realised that it was one thing to buy a box of 24 combs from Amazon but quite another to use one.
Ah, well, Stan preferred it wild, she told herself.But that was a long time ago.It was no longer thick and wavy.That stopped men singing,”O Sole Mio” when she passed them while they were painting the outside of a neighbour’s house.They probably didn’t know what it meant and neither did she.
Why am I looking into the mirror, she wondered? Maybe I am lonesome.But who to visit?Who to invite for tea?
Emile pushed the door open.
Are you alright, mother, he mewed?
I am not your mother, Emile, she said to her little cat, being overly pedantic about every aspect of human life.
Ok,grandma,he continued.I see the Yodel van outside. He probably has something fo you or me.
Now, Emile, I’ve told you before you can call me Mary even if I am your grandmother.
Who was my mother, he asked?Did you adopt me?
Your mother was my mother’s cat “Arabella Stuart”.We called her Bella.Your father was a total mystery.
Presumably a cat, Emile pondered.
Why, did you think it was an animal of another type?
How about Stan.Was he my dad?
In a metaphorical sense, she murmured shyly.He loved you very much.And so do I.
When we watched the dreadful news on TV I was wondering if any animals had been killed by the fire.Nobody has said.I doubt if they would keep dogs up there but cats might have been allowed.
Oh,dear, I admit I have not thought of that.It was so terrible seeing people waving from their windows holding their phones.Saying, I love you to their parents or children.And now the Chancellor says it is illegal here to use that aluminium cladding.
I bet he is going to try to oust Theresa May, Emile told her.
You men, you only think of one thing! Politics and fighting.And sex and hot sinners.
Do you mean dinners, that cat asked her?\
No , hot sinners are harlots.
But how do we know it is a sin.To cats it is normal.
I don’t know.The word sin is no longer heard as it is not politically correct/
Whereas letting 58 people burn to death is politically correct as long as we don’t call it sinful.And all the others will be sick for years.
My God, you are getting clever, Emile,maybe you should run the country!
And so say all of us
Author: Katherine
Poetry writer and author
Theresa May affect Ireland badly
CHRISTOPHER LAMB
VATICAN CITY
The British Prime Minister’s plan to govern with support from Northern Ireland’s Democratic Unionist Party risks re-opening sectarian divisions in Ireland which diplomatic sources say now puts a question mark over Pope Francis’ planned visit to the country.
Following the UK general election last week, which delivered a hung parliament, Theresa May has said she wants to strike a deal with the DUP, a right-wing Protestant party in favour of union between Northern Ireland and Great Britain.
But experts say her move threatens Northern Ireland’s peace agreement that requires the British and Irish governments to act as impartial mediators between unionists and Irish republicans in the north, who are mainly Catholic.
Critics point out that if Mrs May requires the DUP’s support to govern in Westminster then she will be compromised in her role as an “honest broker,” with mediation sorely Northern Ireland given its parliamentary assembly is suspended due to disputes between the DUP and Sinn Féin, the republican party.
In a sign of rising tensions Enda Kenny, the Irish Prime Minister, phoned Mrs May yesterday to express his concern over her alliance with the DUP and that it could jeopardise the 1998 Good Friday Agreement which brought peace to the north.
Known as “The Troubles’, sectarian disputes in Northern Ireland have strong religious undertones with Catholic and Protestant communities set against each other. It saw decades of violence, terrorism and atrocities committed by both sides including by the UK security forces.
For its part, the DUP has been the driving political force for Protestant unionists. It was founded by the Reverend Dr Ian Paisley who described the Pope as “the anti-christ” and once interrupted John Paul II’s 1988 speech to the European parliament.
Long running tensions between Catholics and Protestants meant that when Pope John Paul II visited Ireland in 1979 he was unable to travel north of the border.
In August of next year, however, Pope Francis plans to be in Dublin for the World Meeting of Families and it is believed he wants to travel to Northern Ireland. This would allow him to highlight has largely been a successful peace process that chimes with the aims of his papacy.
But he risks flying into a highly polarised political situation in Ireland which could see two jurisdictions at loggerheads. On the one hand the British government and the DUP in the north, and on the other Irish government which may need Sinn Féin’s to govern in the south.
Tensions in the north have already been exacerbated by Brexit, a decision raises the possibility of a hard border between Ireland – part of the European Union – and Northern Ireland which will be leaving the bloc along with the rest of the United Kingdom. A re-imposition of an old border hails back to the highly contested partition of Ireland in 1921 and which was only meant as a temporary measure. For its part, the DUP had campaigned in favour of Brexit while the late Dr. Ian Paisley saw the EU was a plot to allow the Pope to dominate Europe.
To make matters worse, Francis will be visiting Ireland during August, the traditional marching season of Protestant groups where victories over Catholics are celebrated.
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May and Ireland
That, who or which
http://blog.oxforddictionaries.com/2012/09/that-who-which/
Conversely, is it OK to use which or that as a relative pronoun to refer to a person? In the past, which was often used in this way. If you were brought up in the Anglican Church, as I was, you might be familiar with the wording of the Lord’s Prayer as it appears in the 1662 edition of the Book of Common Prayer:
Our Father, which art in heaven…
When I recited the prayer as a child in the 1960s, I often wanted to say ‘who’ rather than ‘which’ – it seemed more natural to use who because we were talking about a person [Father], not a thing. In fact, had our parish priest used the 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer, I would have encountered the more recent wording:
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Definition of paradigm
“Angels ever fair and bright” Handel
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To dwell on earth is all I wish.
A map’s a guide to find a world
Knitted by angels, plain or pearled,
And though you need a map as guide,
Keep your own eyes open wide.
I spent a year caught in a map
Until I found a big enough gap
I crawled out through this exit slit,
So here I am, like some half wit
Words can act like heroin,
You live so high, where I have been.
But onto earth, I gladly fall.
The air the sun the rain is all.
My senses are my lovers long-
My ears, my eyes, my skin, my tongue.
The winds caress my naked flesh,
To dwell on earth is all I wish.
I’ll live with mice and birds and plants,
I’ll share my food with miscreants
I’ll keep my words inside a tin,
And only, now and then, go in.
I’ll live with cats and spiders three.
And like a wildflower grow quite free.
I’ ll give my words to those who hear,
And eventually, I’ll disappear
Earth to earth then ash to ash
When soaked with rain, I shall disperse.
My atoms wing like butterflies,
And to the Flower, I’ll fly, disguised
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Tick your preference
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Let’s live again until we die
When first I saw your soulful face,
I wished to feel your sweet embrace.
I wished as well to clothe you in
The sacred images within.
To find a home for love without;
To fold my dreams all round about;
Your loving body and your face
Were covered in such joy and grace.
I find my dreams were cast aside;
The world of meaning denied life.
What seemed most precious now is fled…
And I lie sleepless in my bed.
What is the world when unadorned
With all, that in my heart, I’ve formed?
There is no meaning I can trace.
As in a mother’s empty face.
On these grey rocks , my path is hard.
From paradise, my self is barred.
To struggle or to grief succumb,
When this dark day of mourning’s done?
Into His dazzling darkness dart
My dreams and love like dying sparks.
Into His Mystery so fair.
I’ll cast both hope and my despair.
Thus my dreams will be transformed
To show themselves in other forms.
What feels a loss may foretell growth.
On my hope ,I’ll take an oath.
That nothing in my life is waste;
That I have not for phantasms chased.
And you are human,as am I.
Let’s live again until we die
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Where once we enjoyed many songs all gay
“The end is nigh” those preachers used to say
To scare us into being born again
I have a hunch they may be right today
We’re coming to the Final Act , there’s no replay
This Play is ending, ladies, gentlemen
“The end is nigh” those preachers used to say
Where once we enjoyed many songs all gay
Now we listen fearful for Big Ben
I have a hunch the end may be today
Someone may be made to pay
But it’s too late to put the lid back on.
“The end is nigh” those preachers used to say
Let our politicians stay or die
They churned us up like food processors make scones
I have a hunch the end may be today
This neo-liberal fantasy made claims
That free markets would make the biggest gains
“The end is nigh” those preachers used to say
I have a hunch they may be right today
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For willed control spoils what it hopes to find
I want to live and feel I am alive
The carelessness of politicians fills my mind
In a better state, my writing thrives
What actions I can take, I shall decide
When all the thoughts inside my head unwind
I want to live and feel I am alive
Like little fish, my thoughts should slowly glide
But they have stuck and wound me in their bind
In a better state, my writing thrives
My focus tightened up, I need it wide
Else my thinking will be dim and blind
I want to live and feel I am alive
Relaxation is a better guide
For willed control spoils what it hopes to find
In a better state, my writing thrives
Can the poor relax and trust in God?
[A metaphor for what we can’t speak of]
I want to live and feel I am alive
In a better state, my writing thrives
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Theresa May would kneel before our yells.
We’re always short of money, deja vu
All we need is a sin tax paid by you
The hospital is crowded out by flu
The flaming government, how d’ya do?
A tax on sin would work out extra well
And make us humble for we’d have to tell…………..
Then A & E would with new doctors swell
Theresa May would kneel before our yells.
For she’s a jolly bad leader
She’s cold ,is our Theresa
She’s an out of date leader
And so weep all of us
But would we admit in public that we sin
Be humble like that gentle publican?
And would the admin costs be damned?
The main point now is that we have to win.
I know the Catholic church has done much wrong
I know that they put Jesus on my tongue
But it’s still here if you inside you long
To confess that you have sinned with Milly Glong.
I don’t see what’s wrong with sex and love
The recreational hobby watched above
God like porn, it seems a deal whereof
She can knit while you moan on the rug.
She sounds like Grandma Moses in disguise
I wonder of what colour are her eyes?
Unless God sees in ways unanalysed
Triumphant as a duck which has four wives.
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Who torched their boats and loved to see them burn
58 people died in Grenfell Tower fire, more are in intensive care
How shall we be judges of this land
When cheapness, profit are the main concerns?
The poor die and the rich don’t understand
To judge we merely have to look around
When health and safety laugh as towers burn
How can we NOT be judges of tbis land?
We know we will all come to the same end
For some justice, many people yearn
The poor die and the rich won’t understand
Descended from the Vikings, cruel of hand
Who torched their boats and loved to see them burn
How can we not judge this savage land?
By the media, our souls are undermined
And through the windows of the screen, we learn
The poor die young, the rich won’t countermand
Why do we view the unemployed with scorn?
The steel works and the boatyards won’t return
We must rise up to speak about our land
Where the poor will die and the rich won’t understand
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Immer krankier than thou
John Major’s éffect on TM by Martin Bell.Guardian UK
Cor blimey.Are tower blocks a sign of lack of confidence in highly trained men about all their erections? A form of uncertainty masquerading as boastfulness.Recall Donald Trump/s hands [not for very long]
Why is our skyline tormented by these gherkins, pickles, onions and garden gnomes?
Where are the Cathedrals of yesteryear? It is a sign of our lack of confidence in Eros and the Sacred.
We need a new paradigm which may be a revolution
.A cathedral has both male and female aspects.Does the Gherkin?
A gherkin is not real food.Like HP sauce it is an addition men demand for slapping onto their well-cooked meals.Do you think the French use HP sauce on their croissants?On their steak au Poivre?
Je m’appelle Catherine.Je desire l’ineffable toujours tristesse.Or in Britain,mistress.
Je n’aime pas un homme qui demands HP GP TCP Tea TT TV. Pourquoi?
Un desire pour son amour immediatement.Je suis un femme non-asexual BBB.
Et je ne suis pas deus ex machina.
Mein mutter ist immer Zank
I don’t only speak Afrikaans myself but also I can find a translator soon
Quelle Therese May est un Carmelite manque.St Therese et un Hebrew.
You could have knocked me down with a father!
Carmelites use Judaic spiritual exercises except it’s a secret.So don’t pass it on.
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Escalate your glances peeved and sour
Is this a democracy which careless kills
By war or by ignoring its own poor
The undervalued, refugees, the ill?
I know it’s easy just to ask for pills
Or of the mind unconscious make a tour
Is this a democracy which careless kills?
Get the Prozac, get more truly chilled
Escalate your glances peeved and sour
Upon the undervalued and the ill
Virtue comes to those who’re of good will
Yet evil is a swamp much easier
And from there cutting corners leads to kill
If God exists then she no longer tells
Satan is more innocent than we are
Go tell the undervalued and the ill
Wealth and gold has had a great allure
Embedded in our screens it’s easier
Is it democratic to build such towers
For the poor who have no strength no power?
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What was written once
The Bible is like a horror story in free verse.
The erection in the garden was too much for me.Still, I can’t complain.It protected me from the sun for an hour
Please give the boys their balls back
Well, you could have knocked me up if you were desperate.
You are telling me you bought him some nuts? He has enough already.
English is a very rude tongue.You won’t believe what’s in the dictionary.
The Bible is like a horror story in free verse.
He looks a funny shape today.
He got out of the bottom of the bed.He sleeps in the drawer.Yes, it is a very big bed.
Watch your words? I can’s even see them.
Asa matter of tactlessness, the government seem very dense, foolish and greedy.Or they are all good actors
She is touchy,he is touchy feely.So it’s hell on wheels.
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Stanley Holloway
What others think of us
To quote Eleanor Roosevelt:
“You wouldn’t worry so much what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.”
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Chaos in North Kensington
People have been calling to Theresa May to go.Demonstrations and anger after the lack of response to the terrible fire.I just hope other tower blocks are not as dangerous as that one which was full of poorer people and refugees living close to the wealthier folks so they put the cladding on to make it looks smarter.Appearances are all
That’s how our rulers see the poor /us.I agree that May is no leader.I think she ought to have resigned after the Election.She can’t do Brexit now!
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Hail, the North East
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Syntagmatic and other frightening words
Painting by my sister
I have never seen this word before.I have looked ot up and will put a link here
http://visual-memory.co.uk/daniel/Documents/S4B/sem03.html
“A syntagm is an orderly combination of interacting signifiers which forms a meaningful whole within a text – sometimes, following Saussure, called a ‘chain’. Such combinations are made within a framework of syntactic rules and conventions (both explicit and inexplicit). In language, a sentence, for instance, is a syntagm of words; so too are paragraphs and chapters. ‘There are always larger units, composed of smaller units, with a relation of interdependence holding between both’ (Saussure 1983, 127; Saussure 1974, 128): syntagms can contain other syntagms. A printed advertisement is a syntagm of visual signifiers. Syntagmatic relations are the various ways in which elements within the same text may be related to each other. Syntagms are created by the linking of signifiers from paradigm sets which are chosen on the basis of whether they are conventionally regarded as appropriate or may be required by some rule system (e.g. grammar). Synatagmatic relations highlight the importance of part-whole relationships: Saussure stressed that ‘the whole depends on the parts, and the parts depend on the whole’ (Saussure 1983, 126;Saussure 1974, 128).
Syntagms are often defined as ‘sequential’ (and thus temporal – as in speech and music), but they can represent spatial relationships. Saussure himself (who emphasized ‘auditory signifiers’ which ‘are presented one after another’ and ‘form a chain’) noted that visual signifiers (he instanced nautical flags) ‘can exploit more than one dimension simultaneously’ (Saussure 1983, 70; Saussure 1974, 70). Spatial syntagmatic relations are found in drawing, painting and photography. Many semiotic systems – such as drama, cinema, television and the world wide web – include both spatial and temporal syntagms.
Thwaites et al. argue that within a genre, whilst the syntagmatic dimension is the textual structure, the paradigmatic dimension can be as broad as the choice of subject matter (Thwaites et al. 1994, 95). In this framing, form is a syntagmatic dimension whilst content is a paradigmatic dimension. However, form is also subject to paradigmatic choices and content to syntagmatic arrangement.
Jonathan Culler offers an example of the syntagmatic relations and paradigmatic contrasts involved in Western menus:
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- In the food system… one defines on the syntagmatic axis the combinations of courses which can make up meals of various sorts; and each course or slot can be filled by one of a number of dishes which are in paradigmatic contrast with one another (one wouldn’t combine roast beef and lamb chops in a single meal; they would be alternatives on any menu). These dishes which are alternative to one another often bear different meanings in that they connote varying degrees of luxury, elegance, etc.”
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I can’t quite grasp it but I shall try!
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Roland Barthes (1967) outlined the paradigmatic and syntagmatic elements of the ‘garment system’ in similar terms. The paradigmatic elements are the items which cannot be worn at the same time on the same part of the body (such as hats, trousers, shoes). The syntagmatic dimension is the juxtaposition of different elements at the same time in a complete ensemble from hat to shoes.
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How to be a success at being lonely…
Extract from an ironically humorous article on Helium.com by Andrew PostQuote”Every time you feel the need to call up an acquaintance on the phone and ask them what they’re doing Saturday, forget it. Every time you have a yen to rent a romance movie, fight it. It helps to keep a nice stock of sociopathic and antisocial books handy, or watch some television shows about hermits and serial killers. That should give you some role models.
Suitable daily activities that cultivate loneliness are:
1. Sitting in a chair and staring at the wall
2. Wandering aimlessly around your house
3. Reading a book you’ve read a million times over, preferably a Shakespearean tragedy
4. Looking over your old photo albums and yearbooks
5. Attempting to join a club or online dating site and being rejected
6. Going to bed at 7:30 p.m.
7. Checking your message machine and e-mails every five minutes
8. Writing letters to yourself
”
The simple truth is that it loneliness is a low-effort, convenient activity that can serve as a springboard into a wide variety of neuroses and social diseases. The only side effects are malnutrition, liquid imbalance in the brain, indigestion, muscular atrophy, ulcers and the occasional death from gunshot wounds or sleeping pill overdoses. With practice, loneliness can become the pastime that will eclipse and stifle all your other ones. It may even be the last hobby you ever pursue.”End quote.
And finally I give the last words to to a metaphysical poet:
Andrew Marvell > Quotes
“The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
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Windows and the soul
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Violence and despair
My appetite for news has slunk away
See people throwing babies from the tower
The only action I can take is prayer
On the ground, where many flowers are laid
Relatives of the victims stand for hours
My appetite for news has slunk away
I saw the red plume rising in the air
The smoke and smell destroy the offered flower
The only action I can take is prayer
The number of the dead increased today
Many lie reduced to ash upstairs
My appetite for news has slunk away
Over London hangs a cloud of grey
No shades but sorrow, rage shall flare
The only action I can take is prayer
Oh, has the News shocked edgy Mrs May
We must hold both violence and despair
My appetite for news has slunk away
The only way we can survive is prayer
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With green face
Roast grief and tripe with jam tomorrow
Pubic Lamb’s hair with mint followers
Christian lamb with gravy boat and china flea pot
Tongue in cheek with salad dressing
Toad in hole with vegetarian sausage plus mashed piranhas
Ironic beans on throat plus GP call out charge
Tonsils on mashed potatoes with green face
Egg jelly and bastard [male]
Lime instant whip with real creme and elastoplast.
Disposable Yoghurt Fright and valium
Trifle from Russia with Putin’s autogrip and cream [sour]
Sponge Trump Tower with jam,cream and rifle [air]
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Brecht
The garden umbrella
I spent an hour in shelter from the sun
My parasol arrived and all was gay
But very soon a naughty wind had come
And blown my garden parasol away
Abandoning my seat beside the Rose,
My papers blown around like little leaves
I fled indoors, the victim of a ghost
For on hot days he follows me bereaved.
So in the living room, I drank hot tea
A young man brought a parcel to the door
I saw rich leaves and branches valiantly
Add movement to the scene I thought forlorn
A garden gnome out there does not want me
To smile when others suffer misery
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Else obsessional I’d be found here still
As I spell, by semiotics drained
I wonder if I’m wrong to write, explain
The rose unread, the apple not yet born
A poet reveals her mind, which draws down storms
Better be a scientist than a poet
Negative, uncertain, when she wrote
A lab with nuclei all dead and still
The world has ended, death by overkill
Not I but someone in me seems to choose
What I write of, what I might well leave
Else obsessional I’d be found here still
Having lost the power of choice and will.
Can we trust the silence and the voice?
Humbly, we must kneel before this choice
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Semiotics explained
http://www.signsalad.com/semiotics-explained/
Semiotics explained
Semiotics is an investigation into how meaning is created and how meaning is communicated. Its origins lie in the academic study of how signs and symbols (visual and linguistic) create meaning.
It is a way of seeing the world, and of understanding how the landscape and culture in which we live has a massive impact on all of us unconsciously.
Our actions and thoughts – what we do automatically – are often governed by a complex set of cultural messages and conventions, and dependent upon our ability to interpret them instinctively and instantly.
For instance, when we see the different colours of a traffic light, we automatically know how to react to them. We know this without even thinking about it. But this is a sign which has been established by cultural convention over a long period of time and which we learn as children, and requires a deal of unconscious cultural knowledge to understand its meaning.
Viewing and interpreting (or decoding) this sign enables us to navigate the landscape of our streets and society.
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The terrorists are those who rule our land
The terrorists are those who rule our land
More killed on Grenfell Tower than London Bridge
14 London fire stations shut down
Now May says she will learn from what is found
How did fire spread from one faulty fridge?
The terrorists are those who rule our land
Boris Johnson acts like he’s a clown
He called cuts to fundamental safety privilege
14 London fire stations shut down
For nine years now austerity has frowned
The money for policing has been grabbed
The terrorists are those who rule our land
May said that Human Rights might now be pruned
If you ain’t got a Passport, get one fixed
!4 London fire stations shut down
Mayhem comes when citizens feel robbed
The wealthy reckless feed the frightened mob
The terrorists are those who rule our land
Boris acted, fire stations shut down
