Stan’s new laptop computer with Windows 8.1 seemed very good but, alas,superfish was installed on Lenovo computers for a few months and it is adware with a malicious aspect getting a false trusted certificate into the registry.
What a pest when this happens. to stupid young folk.Mary was about to fix it manually, but first she went the hairdresser, a new and gentle Turkish lady.When Mary went she always said just take a little off the ends but the hairdresserstook no notice…possibly because they knew she was often daydreaming and musing and unaware of recent trends So today she came out with a bob long at the sides and short at the back.She had noticed this on other women around the town so she was now on trend for once though Stan her over virile and naughty spouse would hate it.
What is that big white dressing in your cleavage,the manager asked her impertinently.
Oh,it’s where they accidentally sprayed frozen nitrogen over an open wound she said.The doctor was a bit drunk I think but can you blame them when they are so poorly paid?
How can they afford brandy then,he asked curiously.Or is it white spirit or some chemical?
I have no idea said Mary.We never learned that at Yoxford.
Differential equations,yes.People,no
So emotional intelligence was not taught? he enquired tactlessly yet gently.
How could scholars teach that,Mary replied pensively.They have none.Or not much.

G tWell.they could download it from the web.A self teaching aid.

But why do we have to learn it,Mary murmured lovingly.Is it not part of our natural development like learning to speak?Wittgenstein did not speak till he was four and he was never happy but is it normal to be happy when the world is so desacralised and bankers steal from the poor and men make whores from young immigrant women who have no idea where to get help.And what type of man wishes to have sex with poor, terrified girls?

Are people really depressed now or are they seeing a horrible reality in their world; where military solutions are sought for impossible situations…. fascinating though awful but I must dash home now as my thin old husband needs me to feed him and he is so sweet..goodbye for today.
When Mary opened the front door of herdetached bijou home she heard Emile sobbing under the bureau.
I thought superfish were real fish and I wanted to eat them for my dinner,he told her artfully between sobs
Would you like some sardines in olive oil;it might make your fur shine and impress your lady friend,Ariel…..7
Yes,please,Emile mewed.Yum,yum.love Ariel.
Mary removed superfish malware with an automatic tool from the lenovo website which was not as interesting to do but was quicker than a manual approach.But where was her old and patiently used husband Stan? Was he in the shed with his mistress Annie, polishing the tools for springtime or had he gone to the butchers for some liver and pate?Why had he made no sandwiches nor even hardboiled a few eggs.Mary took off the dressing on her chest and looked in the mirror,What a horrible sight,this will keep the men at bay, she thought in a resigned manner more suitable for one about to be beheaded in the Tower of London.So she opened a tin of baked beans and scoffed the lot cold and tomatoey,just like that.What next for this resilient,beautiful and highly unemotionally intelligent lady, we may wonder …. a new boyfriend or two or proof that God must exist but only as a transcendental number…so one can really count on him at times of danger even though as a decimal he was non repeating and endlessly changing,just like a woman one might say.Though women are very various and not all the same.That’s where the Trinity comes in handy.What would we do without it….. may God bless us and drag us out of the mire of sin we are stuck in.

If you are going to pass,be frisky.
Flowing in our sins.
California scheming.
Play a little fair for me,my baby.
Tears may set  me on fire.
The bounds of pylons.
She’s weaving foam,hi,hi.
Life is what happens when you are making others dance.
My isle of guinness free.
My file of winners’ fees.
Blathering frights.
Song of the biscuits.
Sand in his flies.
Be sure to wear some towers with your flair.
Be sure to bare some wealth for Tony Blair.

Unfried chips for sale with wishes free.

Rinse pies here after Xmas.Apply now,without replay

No eatings swallowed here by murder

I may have mentioned my husband was having some surgery last summer.Whilst he was waiting [dressed only in pyjamas and dressing gown] he decided to go to the l toilet .He saw a door with  two signs so  that either sex could use it.He went in,locked the dor and made use of the urinal.,which was in the open with no door, then went to wash his  horny hands.
Suddenly the door of the cubicle opened and out came a woman of riper years.Instead of looking surprised  or worried that she had forgotten to lock the door she came over to him  at once.
Are you a Christian? she demanded  wistfully
Well,I believe in God,he answered dishonestly yet truthfully
May I give you a tract? she enquired loudly and urgentl

If you must,he whispered sorrowfully
But she couldn’t find one so she departed..was she real I wonder?

Beware of such shared conveniences as you never know whom you might meet.Maybe it’s a tactic for desperate lonely singletons.
She declared she would pray for him.But is it always a good thing
to pray for someone if they don’t want it?To me it seems a mite agressive.Why not pray for them without telling  them?

Suppose he had been much younger and more aggressive?He could have attacked her claiming it was shock… lock the outer door in such places,I beg you

http://www.keatsian.co.uk/negative-capability.php
This is a fine blog

Before we learned to talk we communicated with our mothers and later the family by gestures,cries and body movements.In fact inside the womb we swam like fish ..Then we begin to babble as if we learn the music of our tongue before we learn the individual words./Eventually we get caught in the web of words and assume without thinking that everything important can be expressed this way.However when we are with people we still rely al ot on body language and the tones and musicality of the voice itself.A ugly man with a beautiful voice can become very attractive to women.for example.

But later we may come to realise many aspects of life cannot be expressed easily in words.As humans evolved they developed different kinds of language.Poetry and science describe aspects of the world and of the people speaking these languages.Music is one form which does not use words

One , might almost say that with printing and later mass literacy we moved from an oral,bodily centred ,sensuous language to a more abstract less personal way of communication.

However, there are many forms of writing and much more can be expressed this way than most of us know… but when we come to the edge of the world of language .. we realise that the sacred,the ineffable,the holy may be beyond the powers of even the best poets.Yet they can point us there,Music and art may give a more vivid enchantment which we recognise but of which we find it hard to speak.

Words are a net to catch the world but the smallest fish drop straight through it

My mistress’ eye is like a currant spun;
Though she has issues,she is now divine
Her bosom is bared and bold  in  midday sun.
I hope that what is hers is also mine?

My mistress’ eye looks clear as it is glass
She lost her marbles playing with a fox
She’s good at letting ferrets rustle past
And feeding mice as well as darning socks.

My mistress dear, I gaze upon her breast.
I see her skin is warm and she does sweat.
I, too, have lusted and I have confessed
But still she grumbles  though she places bets.

In truth I am as fickle as a weed,

But each must act according to their need

Photo of Blenheim Lakes by Mike Flemming, 2015 copyright.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/stephanie-snay/household-cleaning-tips-f_b_6564996.html?utm_hp_ref=cleaning
Do you like dirty jokes?
Do you like sick humour?
Are you apolitically incorrect?
Do you suffer from muscle envy?
Fear not.Just take 2 aspirin and right a limerick.

The lost elms at Blenheim By Mike Flemming

There was an old man from Vancouver
Who got his foot trapped in the hoover.
He cried,Oh,dear me
In the dustpan I’ll be…
No doubt hanging up dans le Louvre.

For Art is not beauty today
It’s a pissoir or madmen at play.
But I like to draw
What I have saw…..
Like the sun going down by Lyme Bay.

What sort of love do you cherish?
The secret or the one with much flourish?
Keep yourself whole
Sell not your soul..
For love, it is not wise to perish.

I have indeed erred and have sinned
For affectless living unkind.
So now I embrace all
By my long garden wall..
And often am over-entwined.

Oh,Lord do not make me a ball
I may look like string as I’m tall.
But I am flesh and blood
I am not  cloth or wood….
I be you pay heed to my call.

What number is God’s own cell phone?

Does he ever  text when  alone?

Or does he meditate

On our human fate…

Sometimes I hear a  sharp moan.

We have to be breathing right to hear it,
the silence in which all song arises;
we have to be breathing slow and gentle
and not to be staring angrily at the world.
We have to be breathing right to feel it,
the tenderness in which we are held by nature.

We have to be breathing quiet and soft
and to be looking receptively,without desire.
We have to be breathing right to recall it
the music we heard when there was silence.
We have to be being breathed by the world
We have to be part of the whole..
and so,we forget it
as we are pounded by noise of radios and TVs
by people talking loudly on cell phones
by the green fields and river
by the secret heron
by the coots nest ,by the daisies

When I am dying  shall  I think
Why was I scarcely breathing?
Why did I forget those  joyous moments?
Why did I not live more deeply?
Why did I not sing more sweetly?
Why did I nor love more dearly?
Why did i not listen more carefully?
Why did I not sing more sweetly?
why did I not see more completely?
Why don’t we talk more gently?
Why don’t we look more intently?

Why are the poppies growing so wildly?
Why are the battlefields growing nightly?
Why do we murder  so lightly?
Why do we not love more rightly?
Why are the poppies covering the soil so politely?
Why did the young soldiers leave so frightfully?
Why are we not here more quietly?

When I saw you waiting in that cafe
I knew you would be mine.
You were handsome, smiling,funny..you were specially designed.
You looked like men I’d only dreamed about in all those years before.
I’m so broke up,so broke up;you don’t love me anymore.

I saw you on the station as I came from out the train.
You wore an old green parka to protect you from the rain.
I wanted to be one with you,to make a Love entire;
But all you did was give me pain too bad be endured

You walked away so quickly,I could not see you long.
I wish I had a big guitar to draw you back with song.
I looked at where you disappeared;what love has loss revealed?
I wish I could just lay down on this floor and keep my face concealed.

Railway stations sadden me, for I know we’ll never meet .
I won’t cry more ,for tears are running almost to my feet.
I walk fast looking straight ahead past that entrance gate,
I pretend that you have missed your train,that work was running late

I count from one and one up to a thousand and many more–
But I know for sure it’s far too late; you have closed that heavy door.
You are hiding in a dungeon
You are covered with white steel
But I know you had a heart and you must surely feel.I lost all my illusions,
and then I lost some more.
I wish I could lay down and die,right here on this floor.

http://youtu.be/IEVow6kr5nI

I love Leonard Cohen when he’s singing his own songs
None I have been listening to have ever been too long
I love that hawk like nose and those mild sardonic eyes
Let me love you Leonard, for without you I might die.
I write these extra verses though your song is almost done
And I’m far too arthritic for the dance of Babylon
I want to keep your music playing to the very end
The gravel and the poetry make a perfect blend.
Let me hear you singing when I cross the final bar
You are,you are,you are,you are,you are my gleaming star.
Yes,you are

.In the order of the ways we have to take our chance
We will never ever know our cognitive dissonance