George Boole’s House and School, Lincoln, UK (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Loose in the fields of green…
Oh, my own lover!
He was such a bold flirt;
with his love unclaimed,
he could recite George Boole
he was one of the old Cool.
He never reached his goal.
so with my bling and some flair
I hoped he’d open the enchanted bud
To the music of his lyre.
I’ll pray this for him:
t hat he should find what he wreaks
and write it down with a stylus.
Really he is the allurement of angels
He was my epiphany
Make it up, as the clocks clang..
It’s not really you…it’s just an affliction.
I can do nothing for my calves
It’s because of all the punning I did once.
I can’t even lump a stone over a wall now.
My arms are as weak as Trojans.
I never suffer viruses to be declassified.
Like I said,just wink and say a prayer..
In God we dare.
If someone hurts you,retaliation
makes you feel better for a moment but in the long
run it perpetuates the
evil that men do lives
after them and endless
retaliation makes wars inevitably wrecks
the richness we leave for our children’s
children’s children.
What to do or
say,when is enough
Enough.
Enough?
Or is it just a decision we must take without fear?
English: Fish and chips traditionally wrapped in white paper (for hygiene) and then newspaper; frequently eaten with tartar sauce and ketchup; Stromness, Orkney. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Please do not overbake on narrow roads.Think of other losers.
You cannot seat your own food in this cafe.
Please thrash your hands before eating.
Coffee free with disorder.No panic.
Dot of tea,red and bitter,served with all orders.Milk avoidable by bequest.
Fish and whips while you mate.
Beefburgers,100% horsemeat, served here with microchips
Chips free with all sand witches.
Let them eat bait
Spare the cod and boil the child.
Battered cod on Fridays after Mass.No bullying free
Friday is no longer a day of absence for Catholics.
Got to Mass and prey om women.
Wear your best cat in the Synagogue this Sabbath.Make it special
Jewish Cookery books free to first comer.Owner divorced from loyalty to husband.
If bad tempered please play with yourselves instead of coming to the dance.
See here on Sunday… Jesus is the Word.
No sermons during Class by order
Do you eat hake?Come phising tomorrow Discover the toy of sex.Workshop on Mondays
English: Lingerie sale, T. Armstrong & Co. store. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)English: The reality of lingerie, as opposed to the fantasies of catalog photographs (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Winter had come very early to Knittingham yet owing to the late summer and wet autumn,many trees still had their leaves,,,,,,,,,,,some were even green.Stan and Mary were sitting in their mock Tudor cottage style kitchen eating muffins and honey with Earl grey tea in mugs.
Wow,it’s so cold,Mary remarked.
Now,Mary I have told you before that Wow is not a word I expect to hear from such a highly educated person as yourself….why waste your learning?All those years climbing over walls in ~Oxford and dating clever doctors from Harvard…
Bollocks,Mary answered in a tone not unlike the late Rose Nordloch,philosopher extraordinaire who was famed for her obscene talk.I am thinking of buying some woollenvests,she continued loudly.Good grief!
What is it, my darling Stan said nosily.Mary was looking at a catalogue of ladies clothing. and lingerie which had come i nthe post
They are £39 each,she said wonderingly.If I get three it will be nearly £120 plus postage.Just imagine,I may be unable to afford wool vests
Can’t you just buy one and wear it all winter like the Tudors did?her loving yet irascible husband replied
I think it would get smelly,my dear,even if I wore my anti -perspirant,Mary answered benignly.We should get wool vests from the Government to save us from going to A and E with double pneumonia,she continued softly…Shall we mention it at the Labor Party meeting? I can get it on the agenda
No,no,Stan cried,I want your lingerie to be a secret…
A woollen vest is hardly lingerie,she retorted.. sounding like a character from Barbara Pym‘s novels
Everything a lady wears under her dress in lingerie he murmured gently….bras,knickers,pantaloons,petticoats,vests,corsets,suspender belts.stockings,tights,trouser liners,lace,fine silk,short underskirts,long underskirts……..n,ighties
But some lingerie is more sensual…Stan said wistfully,recalling the brown silk underwear Mary used to wear before feminism made most lingerie a No,No! Anyway,Mary said,we are too old for sex….we are too stiff and we are too shy now as well
But not too old to have a few fantasies,Stan thought… and woollen vests did not feature in his… he preferred lace and silk with a hint of perfume…. maybe a little embroidery….a dying art
Emile came in and asked for a vest too and some underpants… suppose I wet them? he miaowed in a panic
Well,you can’t have a nappy,Emile.Stan informed him.
I have no desire for such things,Emile mioawed angrily…where is my food?
Oh, yes… it’s in the fridge,said Stan.He took a large goldfish out of the fridge
Where did you get that from? Mary asked fearfully…
.Oh,that tom cat down the road knocked a fish tank over and he gave Emile one.
But they are pets!She shrieked…. ring 999 now and ask for an ambulance
Dave the bisexual paramedic strode in looking merry.
It’s Frank,the gold fish,said Mary fearfully……………Is he dead?
He is not quite dead,Dave answered….get a bowl of rain water.He put Frank into the bowl and Frank began to swim…
Well, that’s a bloody miracle,Mary screamed. almost frightening Stan to death!
Just call him Lazy Lazarus.Dave quipped…he was in suspended animation.. fish are very clever.Would you like me to clean out the kitchen or fetch in some coal for the scuttle? he asked the old dears.
Thanks but not today,Dave.We were just discussing vests.Do you wear one?
Oh,yes.he said, and I wear a short petticoat too….I’dd love a silk one as I am a transexual too,so I believe
Very wise,Mary informed him.Underwear keeps us warm.
And it makes me hot,thought Dave…. but he said nothing.He kept his sex life almost a secret even from himself
Chirikov equation (Photo credit: Wikipedia)The Grand Challenge Equations: San Diego Supercomputer Center (Photo credit: dullhunk)Téléportation quantique (Photo credit: Wikipedia)English: Paul Dirac with wife, July 1963 at Copenhagen Deutsch: Paul Dirac mit Gattin, Juli 1963 in Kopenhagen (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I am so deeply cynical about you,
I am full of love,hateful but true.
But you don’t even email me.
You hold so negatively
To Hawking’s view
About quantum field theory.
You are up the South Pole,
You swallowed his theory whole.
I am lost in the Northern Lights.
I even miss those fights.
I hope a white polar bear
will drag me to it’s lair,
Then I shan’t have to think any more
About Paul Dirac and Tony Blair.
If I’m so caring towards you,
Can’t you love a little too?
I’ll accept String theory,
If it means so much to you.
I wish the square root of three
Less irrational could be,
Because you are irrational enough for me
Especially when you miss your tea
Your blood sugar is too low
you are diabetic you know!
Oh, don’t leave me again
Not now just when
I have at last understood,
I too am flesh and blood.
I’ll do anything to win
Your affection again.
I can learn any branch of topology
Or Aquinas‘ difficult theology.
I’ll even learn how to fly,
And take you up in the sky.
Why can’t we try?
Is my life a black lie?
I’ll do all that I can
If you’ll believe I’m a man.
This could be the Garden of Eden
But you are leaving me grieving.
We could start a family
If you were not so cynically,
Pressing all the wrong keys.
Oh,do love me please!
Hate me too if you like, Ambivalence is alright,
Especially at night
When the full moon is bright.
What a special sight,
When we switch off the lightI shall get permissionFor nuclear fusion
But if it’s fission you lack,
Who am I to hold you back?
We’ll go up with a scream,
That’s all my whole life has been.
Hope you are keeping well in this unusually cold spring weather.Stan has had flu.It made him so bad tempered and waspish that I took up the Duraglit polish and got him to polish all the brass,except the front door knob, as that doesn’t come off.Mind you,it made the bedroom smell odd… a mistake,perhaps…so I sprinkled lavender oil around.
He seems to get thinner and I seem to get fatter.So our average w eight remains constant.What a relief.I’d like to be weighed as a married woman.Can you believe this..I’ve got chilblains! It’s those dratted blood vessels of mine.Still,I polished some old plum colored leather boots and wear them in the house.We seem to be doing polishing frequently here.. boots,furniture,apples.
How is your new book “Nonsense:A.N.Whitehead and Lewis Carroll” coming on?Hope it’s progressing….to a nonsensical ending.I’ve got a new book of poetry coming out in April [from Polar bears publishers] It’s called,”An unpolished performance.”My fourth book on Wittgenstein’s cats is almost finished.And the publishers can’t wait for the photographs…I’ll get a friend to do those for me!!It gives me a change from all that polishing.I’ve begun to talk to myself out loud…. in the street.Just seeing if I can still do my old Lancashire accent.I suppose it might worry people but no one has said anything as yet.They may be afraid.
“That which is unsaid can,nevertheless,still be heard.
Stan is still involved romantically with Anne, our next door neighbor.I can’t blame him as chilblains and Wittgenstein are not very romantic.When I think of how we used to be,it makes me smile and feel sadness too.I wonder if I can find someone new for a romance,myself… someone with Asperger’s syndrome possibly…as I’ve just been diagnosed.It’s quite common in mathematicians.It may be an advantage in concentrating a lot.I need a boyfriend with weak eyes as my clothes are all full of moth holes and I’m damned if I’m going to buy new ones.I can’t see well enough to darn but I’ve sewn the holes up neatly thus giving a strange pleated effect to my clothes.On my merino wool knitted trousers, one hole was right on the ass.It looks now as if I’ve been shot in the rear…but I can’t see it.So it does not exist.Sometimes in the past I would iron on those motifs like butterflies…but I think it would look odd having a butterfly just there…. or indeed anything else like wild rose.I could make a little sign saying
“Keep clear,from my rear.This is a hole where a moth scored a goal.”
Still,not many people are going to look there now I hope….I seem to have stopped knitting but am still drawing.Meantime I’ve just ironed some of my winter clothes as it’s still chilly..and am planning to iron all my pink and blue knickers now as I believe it kills any germs left when you wash at 30 deg.I got those colors in case I should change sex or is it gender?I wonder if I should iron the sheets?Could I do it while they are on the bed?I don’t wash them much as it wears them out and me too.I am going to take up baking again because Stan is getting so thin.I fancy a Russian cheesecake as it had a lot of protein in it.I have a genuine Russian cookbook and also am waiting for a delivery of a Jewish cookery book as I have lost mine..no it fell down onto my head last week.God only knows where that came from.but I believe there were good cheesecakes as Jewish cooking has much in common with Russian,perhaps because once many Jews lived in Russia.I just made friends with one here….he is charming and like me he hates golf.He used to have his own business…He has a lovely collection of hats too.
I have got almost all the Penguin cookery books ever printed but mislaid a few.In fact it’s quite hard to get into the kitchen with all these books on the shelves.And a little food.
I was comforted to read that the parent’s of John Burra,the artist,had books piled every where in their large house….and he was very untidy too.So all I need is talent and practice and I’ll be an artist.After all,anyone can be untidy but not everyone will practice their Art.I’d like to practice the arts of love.They say you should love your neighbor as yourself,but personally I prefer the neighbor or even the milkman to myself.Meanwhile I’m happy with Emile our cat and my 500 photos of Wittgenstein.I shall make Stan a lemon sponge pudding.That is the love he wants…Food.
“If music be the food of love I’ll cohabit with a pure white dove.
And while he coos and sings for me.
I’ll try not to :fall out of the tree,
Get stung by a bee,
Have psychotherapy
Make more enemies,
Let my thought free,
Hurt my knee.
Let moths frighten me.
Well,time for some tea.Now Jane, please write to me soon.I love to see your so strangely beautiful handwriting and to hear about Whitehead and Cambridge and all the weird dons. I hope it’s not too damp and cold there near that river.Keep warm and make a note of any intriguing happenings to relate to me.And anything beautiful you can see or hear.I hope Edward is writing regularly..where is he doing his research now… did you say Stanford.Maybe you should install Skype..then again,perhaps not as you would have towash your hair too much… and comb it too…perhaps we could wear wigs.
Mileage Out of Bicycle Parts (Photo credit: cobalt123)Carl Jung (Photo credit: Psychology Pictures)Loneliness doesn’t come from having no one around you, but from being unable to communicate the things that are important to you. -Carl Jung (Photo credit: deeplifequotes)
Since you went away
I miss your tenderness
I miss your affection
I miss your music
I miss your humor
I miss your voice
I miss your hands
I miss your bony shape
But
I don’t have to hear how the shadow side of your literary persona is feeling…. usually terrible
I don’t even have to know you are not your literary persona.
Was it all that literary?
More pretentious
By the way,it was Jung who invented the term persona for a front we put on
I don’t have to hear your view on a topic I know more about than you but you hate to admit it
I don’t have to pretend to be less intelligent than you
I don’t have to tolerate your sulking for days
I don’t have to spend my money on books you think I should read… especially on politics
I don’t have to worry if my art is better or worse than yours
I don’t have to tolerate your extreme rigidity…it’s hard sleeping with a board!
And a beard!
I hate most of your favorite foods
I don’t have to act like a mother to you… a good mother,that is
I like the space you have left.
Sometimes we really do need more space.
I don’t have to wear a pretty but chilly nightgown
I can read all night and play with the cat
I can go out with the man whom I met in the museum of modern art
English: Group photo in front of Clark University Sigmund Freud, G. Stanley Hall, Carl Jung; Back row: Abraham A. Brill, Ernest Jones, Sándor Ferenczi. Photo taken for Clark University in Worcester, Massachusetts publication. Česky: Foto z Clarkovy univerzity roku 1909. Dole (zleva) Sigmund Freud, G. Stanley Hall, Carl Jung, nahoře (zleva) Abraham A. Brill, Ernest Jones, Sándor Ferenczi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This is interesting because I think people do dump on others without realising what they are doing… that’s what I have experienced
And the misconception that talking is always good and restraint is bad.Talking can be a waste of time if the conversation is not with an appropriate person.When people share deep feelings at the right time.that can be invaluable
Short extract
“The metaphor that comes to mind for an alternative style of communication is a “sounding board,” because it means that when you transmit information about a difficulty or question, something comes back. To go beyond mere listening is a risky thing to do; you may be experienced as “unsupportive” or judgmental if you say something truthful and difficult, but for me, that’s what real friendship means.”
English: English band “Hurts” while performing at “Magazzini Generali” in Milano, Italy Italiano: Il gruppo inglese “Hurts”, mentre si esibiscono ai “magazzini Generali” a Milano (Photo credit: Wikipedia)Love Hurts (Incubus song) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This is truly fascinating.Love is not determined by our personalities alone.The nature of our society affects how we can feel.It seems since more “equality” came in…[ironic smile] that eroticism has declined.I wonder if that’s why soft porn novels are so popular… people are trying to feel more erotic?So if you are able to write Sixty Maids in the Hay you can become rich even though you may still feel no love.
Feeling the sadness in my heart
and in my arms a tender feeling
as if the flesh is calling out;
My breath’s coming in gasps and
my throat makes a murmur
as if trying to speak.
Sensitive skin on my inner arms yelps
and my heart aches like
I’ve run too many miles .
My legs feel strong
My mouth is dry and my back
needs an arm around it
for protection.
My eyes are wet with the moisture
that might have made saliva.
Protest against the Israeli attack on the Palestinians of Gaza held at the State Library 4 January 2009 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)English: Photos of empty poison gas canisters and the hair of Jews, taken inside the memorial museum in the Auschwitz camp. z Taken by User:Palthrow. A picture (left) of Zyklon B canisters which produce a deadly gas. (Right) human hair from the people sent to these camps (Photo credit: Wikipedia)David Ben-Gurion (First Prime Minister of Israel) publicly pronouncing the Declaration of the State of Israel, May 14 1948, Tel Aviv, Israel, beneath a large portrait of Theodor Herzl, founder of modern political Zionism, in the old Tel Aviv Museum of Art building on Rothshild St. The exhibit hall and the scroll, which was not yet finished, were prepared by Otte Wallish. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
“Essentially powerless for some two thousand years, the Jew in exile, in his ghettos, amid the equivocal tolerance of gentile societies, was in no position to persecute other human beings. He could not, whatever his just cause, torture, humiliate, or deport other men and women. This was the Jew’s singular nobility, a nobility that seems to me far greater than any other. I hold it as axiomatic that anyone who tortures another human being, be it under compelling political, military necessity, that anyone who systematically humiliates or makes homeless another man, woman, or child, forfeits the core of their own humanity. The imperative of survival, the ethical ambiguities of its settlement in what was Palestine (by what sophistry does a non believing, – non-practising Israeli invoke God’s promise to Abraham?), have forced Israel to torture, to humiliate, to expropriate — though often to a lesser degree than its Arab and Islamic enemies. The State lives behind walls. It is armed to the teeth. It knows racism. In short: it has made of Jews ordinary men.”
He loves her twinkling ankles.
She like his waves
Her smile is discreet and she is very fleet
He prefers her bosom to Abraham‘s!
He loves himself so he goes Dutch on dates.
He takes a long walk after a short wank.
I take a witch there,she will blast the grove with my wandering eyes
I take a nip of brandy which comes in handy and I feel dandy lions all over me
Why not bare yourself and a bum may come by
I shake till I arrive then I quiver all through dinner.I’m in a fright all night.At dawn I get the blues.I drink tea till I ooze.
Wake me easy…take my knees off
Forsake him and his fleas.I’m off.
I bake it with a flake of sense
I’ll take one snap, so beam now.
Wake her and knock off that awhile
I take the bull by the forlorn women.
I take the well endowed out for the lame
Take the pleasing way out
Take her lover off,I’m the doctor.
This past Sunday 5 May, TheGuardian featured an article entitled “Interpretation of seams? Sigmund Freud’s couch needs £5,000 restoration”. It recounts how the Freud Museum in London has launched an appeal for funds to restore ‘possibly the most famous piece of furniture in the world’:
It is possibly the most famous piece of furniture in the world, but the couch in Sigmund Freud‘s consulting room is now sagging under the weight of more than a century of dreams, terrors, traumas and phobias, and is overdue for a facelift.
The Freud Museum in London has launched an appeal on what would have been his 157th birthday for funds to restore the couch on which his patients lay while they bared their souls to him.
Many of Freud’s most famous patients, whose psychological traumas helped him to formulate his theories of psychoanalysis, lay on the couch. They included the “Wolf Man”, a…
Rorty wrote in favor of historicist thinkers, showed sympathy towards questions asking for “What is it to inhabit a rich twentieth-century democratic society?”, and remarked the importance of the so-called historicist turn, which, according to him, “has helped free us, gradually but steadily, from theology and metaphysics” (Contingency, Irony and Solidarity, p. xiii). But Rorty did not talked about an homogeneous group of historicist writers, but of groups of them, and went over to distinguish the exemplars group form the fellow citizens group (Contingency, Irony and Solidarity, p. xiv). Some writers searched for private perfection or “aestheticism”, as Rorty called it. Some others engaged in an effort which Rorty qualified as “social”, namely “the effort to make our institutions and practices more just and less cruel” (Contingency, Irony and Solidarity, p. xiv). He denominated the former “writers on autonomy”, the later “writers on justice” (Contingency, Irony and Solidarity, p. xiv)…
“For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength” (Phil. 4:13).
Making changes and facing challenges can often brings thoughts of fear. Can I really do this? What if I fail? What will others think?
Changes and challenges. Sometimes when I face a change or challenge–like when I confront someone, change jobs, or re-evaluate priorities and commitments–I feel paralyzed with fear. Then, I spend more of my energy dreading the inevitable than actually “doing it.”
Deadlines. In college, fear often overwhelmed me at the beginning of a new semester or when I faced a deadline or test. I would think, How can I possibly do all this in just a few weeks or days? How can I remember all those details?
Success. But I found success as I took each assignment or test one at a time. And then, when the next test, assignment, or semester rolled around, and fear attempted to paralyze me again…
An interesting article about the benefits of writing and how you get more healthy.She seems to favor handwriting which I like to do as well.I write poems at night with a pen
.Quote:For me the personal turning point was Pol Pot. Very few knew at the time about Auschwitz. Yes, there were bastards who knew, there were sons of bitches who knew and who didn’t believe it, but they were a tiny number. Nazi secrecy on this was fantastically efficient. The killing fields were on radio and television while they were going on, and we were told that Pol Pot was burying alive one hundred thousand men, women and children. Now I cannot attach honest meaning to the phrase “to bury alive one man, woman or child.” One hundred thousand! I almost went out of my mind in those days with bitter impotence. I was obsessed with the hope that Russia and America would say, “We don’t know what the rights and wrongs of this incredible geopolitical mess are but forty-five years after the Holocaust or after the gulag, we can’t shave in the morning, we can’t look at ourselves, knowing a hundred thousand people are being buried alive; the razor doesn’t work on the skin. No woman can put on her makeup and think of herself as human. If you don’t stop this, we’ll come in.” I’d hoped ………….
By my bed – À cabeceira (Photo credit: * starrynight1)
Intriguing article about love,attachment and desire.Attachment has only been acknowledged since the work of John Bowlby and Konrad Lorenz.Lorenz had several geese bonded to him
My frame has gone for a test again
Gang slang… no bells rang in my head
Let the ball start folding when you reach the boundary value problem
Set your life with gelatine.
Polish your shoes with cream of calculi
Get a broomstick on wheels.. you’ll bebewitched
Get a bird in the hedge to tell lies for you
Get a call mucked up by Nogaphone
Get a briar full of sorrow to smoke
Get back into the hearse,sir
Let her get out while the rowing’s in a flood
Met a crotch down the close once.In a clinch
She has that frown without words.my days are jumbled
I never let it disinfect me
Tetalogue or decalogue…it’s up to la rue now
Did you believe in a Sacred Rod?
Please set me off now .I’m a clockwork collage
They set out from my hedge but it’s not my defeasibility
Get out of my bier…I just need to be alone
Get out my hair.I have nits already
Get over my rump now
What a nook for a love in.Who shall we loan?
Drink to his ass for it is perfectly tensed
Get up off that cat,,,I need it to kill a rat
Sex with a slogan.Lust if you must………..but do not ever dust
Sex and you both harm me
Get your luck into flow…Mihail told you so
Can feet laugh?
English: Boundary value problem for an arbitrary shape (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
English: Poppies and cornflowers in Jubilee Park. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Cornflowers (Photo credit: simone-walsh)
English: Buttercup meadow The shorter creeping buttercups (Ranunculus repens) are most popular in this field however patches of the much taller meadow buttercup (Ranunculus acris) are abundant. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Underneath the deep sky,sweetheart,
You shall be the one.
You were with me in the dark
When all the rest were gone.
When the trees grow their green leaves,
I’ll love you all night long.
When the flowers fill the cornfields
Love shall be our song.
Poppies red.and linseed blue
Shall decorate my dress.
Hold me in your arms tonight
While I my love confess.
Meadows filled with buttercups
Fill my inner eye.
I love the scent of minty leaves
When my mind is all awry.
I see the sun through closed eye lids
And rose scent’s in the air.
Wherever summer joy comes from….
We have had our share
I’ve been struggling with how to write this post for some time, knowing that it was inevitably coming. On the one hand, this feels so incredibly personal to me, and I feel some unease in talking about it in this somewhat public medium that is read by people with whom I normally maintain some sense of boundaries. Like my professors. Or my parents. Or Miko’s teachers. And on the other hand, writing this blog has been such a gift to me, for which I have been doubly reinforced. First, by the act of writing itself; sharing my personal process has been instrumental in moving me through it. Creating something, even if it’s just this electronic account of my feelings, during a time in which it is all too easy to only think about sickness and death, has fed me in a way I can’t quite describe. And second, by the…
Fennecus, vulpes cavaiissima cum auribus maioribus. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Body Farm (Photo credit: ZenOptic)
Amyloidosis, H&E Most of the amyloid consisted of acellular pink globules that effaced and expanded the node, but this image shows the characteristic involvement of blood vessel walls (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This past Sunday 5 May, The
100 novels everyone should read – Telegraph.
