A NYT special about Alison Lurie

A NYT special about Alison Lurie

Alison Lurie has long been a favorite author of mine. I am just re-reading her at the moment.

This is a collection of reviews of all  her novels.I think the best one is, The War between the Tates.She has a delightful sense of humor and an ability  to create truly alive believable people..

I found this quote which will show you what she is like.

You can’t write well with only the nice parts of your character, and only about nice things. And I don’t want even to try anymore. I want to use everything, including hate and envy and lust and fear.”
― Alison Lurie, Real People

Stock up now.Beat the winter blues by entering a new world.

Paul Gordon,author of the article about Peter Lomas: A quote

I use the word sceptical deliberately for this book owes a great deal to the sceptical tradition within philosophy. This position has nothing to do with an extreme posturing found in some self­ styled postmodernist circles that questions whether we can really know anything, whether there is any such thing as truth. (According to some extreme variants there is no objective truth – except, apparently, the statement that there is none.)

Gordon, Paul (2012-12-15). Face to Face (Kindle Locations 85-88). Paul Gordon. Kindle Edition.

At least tantalize me till it’s light tonight

«

Who weeds the grammar now?
I’ll never love again,not whenever,never.
Her hands are always waving,her nose runs all day and her feet tweet nonstop.Is it the New Exercise?
At least tantalize me till it’s light tonight
He gave me a laugh and many sinful emotions
He laughed all the way to the bonk.
I pray for more love.Lord, a shepherd will do.
I generally lay my bards on the table
l left my mark on his back.. scratched again!
I leave no home unconsumed.
I’m just a devil in my own lifeline
I was left by his falter at the altar yet I forgave him everything.
She’s a legend so well defined…she’s never out of her own mind
It was the fleeter of my two feet which arrived at the finishing post.I’ll catch up with it later.
Is that a crutch or are you wimping to meet me?
.I let the flat out to an old hag.She had bags under her eyes and a broomstick in her pocket,Some pocket,hey?
Let’s never poll again.
I’ll never be a dove again.
No,I’ll never write a double negative for you.No,not ever
She said,let’s spit now..but I refused,so she bit my head off with a word.She’s digested the dictionary and needs practice,you see.
His blinkers are perfect.His winks are a pleasure to behold.
Let’s love again before the next millenium.
You keep me mating all of the time.What did I do?
Was it my song?
Did I go wrong?
You keep waiting till the end of the rhymes;
And longer,sometimes.
Cast your spellings onto me and I’ll import them into my head with the aid of a nail file.
What did I do?
What was so bling? s
I have your number alright.I know your type as well as y

Simone de Beauvoir revisited

If I enjoyed any of de Beauvoir’s books it would be her autobiography .The first volume especially

Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter (Perennial Classics) Paperback

Having just noticed she won the Prix Goncourt for the Mandarins I feel a littl eembarrassed by ,t own view that it’s not a true novel for me.However I see the hard work and the mass of material and ideas she deals with as evidence of a very brave  and bold mind.

The later autobiographies are interesting but always I have a sense of too much material,too much information.Of course for historical purposes they are no doubt very useful

About Peter Lomas

About Peter Lomas

Although Peter Lomas was a psychoanalyst he was a rare rebel,a wonderful writer and a master of the language

I read his books regularly for their wisdom and courage.And his stories.Most of all I love his truthfulness

 

“In this regard, the centrality of ethics in human relations, I think Peter has much in common with Emmanuel Levinas, the French Jewish thinker who put ethics at the very heart of our being, as what makes us human beings, ethics in the sense of the priority of the other and our responsibility to that other.  Of course Levinas’s language was not Peter’s, but for myself I still find him inspiring, despite the predictably obscurantist and cliched ways in which his thought has been taken up and the horribly religious-like tone of too many conversations about his work.  Not for the first time is a return to the source called for.”

From the cited article

I Wrote it…Now What?

This looks worthwhile

Barb's avatarChrysalis: Emerging Women Writers

I’m posting a good blog for those of you who’ve done your editing and are ready for self-publishing.  Joleene Naylor has a detailed guide on how to use the KDP resources (Amazon).

This will get you started.

http://selfpubauthors.com/2013/08/16/how-to-publish-with-kdp/

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Tread on your toes

 

ImageEach language has different rules.A language can be looked at as a game with rules.But the rules vary,That’s why perfect translation is impossible.Many different perceptions are linked into the vocabulary of each language.And the rules for combination are unique to each.
Like dancing…each society used to have its own form of dance though here it’s died out.Irish and Scottish dancing still exist and are very similar.People entertained themselves by singing their unique songs and dancing together… and playing their own instruments.. violin,tin whistle,piano…
Sometimes you make a friend from another culture.Sometimes you hurt them because your singing and dancing may have seemed similar and then one of you took a step which was not part of any dance the other one knew…. so feelings are hurt or the mind is puzzled.Unless you have very deep trust
you may think they are wanting to hurt you.But it maybe you were doing the foxtrot and they began to waltz, feeling it would be lovely to waltz with you.
Then they tread on your toes,you slap their face and it’s the end of a good friendship.But thinking of it as a confusion of dances may give the event a different meaning which ascribes no blame,just confusion natural in such a c

When words are the only

When words are the only way we can connect

communicate,

When words are our only link,

light

When words go wrong

Wring

our hearts

What are we to use to mend

minister?

What are we to write

right

wrong?

When the written is all,

alone,

When we can’t find the words

Wary

What are we to do?

Dictate

Dream

Deny

Depict

When words wound

wander

retaliate

writhe

Where are we now?

numb

null

naught

How can we make it up

Invent

In verse

Intent

lament

loss

love

linger

loiter

lie

link

last

least

locate.

Where is the wound?

Wreck.

Reckoning

Resolve

Resolute.

Redress

Where is our new map?

Meaning

Moaning

Making

Making it up

Inventing love

Re-creation

Return

Remember to forget.

Wrestle

Redeem.

Resolve.

No Retaliation.

No redirection

No harboring ill.

No bad will.

When words have gone awry,

Yet words are all we have.

When words don’t create a form

Yet direction is what we need.

When words no longer live

last

lost

We wait

Rest

Rescue

Retrieve

Remember

Love

lies underneath

lasts

longs

laments

lasts

and lasts.

Love lasts

till words connect

console

correct

catch you

cradle you

caress you

Conjugate you

Put you in a sentence

syntax

spell

magic

magnetic

mine

made new

murmured in your ear

mentioned

in my letters

write

rites

make right.

make us write

goodness.

Let it all be

Light.

Let me take your hand

Pull me up

I need a hand,

a word,

eye contact.

I contact

You

Me

Us.

When words are not enough

Imageh,words

when words are not enough
to give our feelings form
music is the language
which many find gives calm

when words are too clumsy
touch may be enough
a glance of compassion
may pull us from the Slough

when words don’t come easy
when music fails to charm
then come to me and tell me;
I’ll enclose you in my arms

gestures,touch and glances
are a language in themselves
words are not enough for us
We need  touch as well.

My present mind is like a magnet.

Source: Kath
Source: K.

My present mind is like a magnet.

It attracts those small

yet potent words

that fit its present thoughts,

creates a replica

of wounds afresh.

If, like a welcome sun,

new light will shine for me,

reveals,

transforms.

I’ll then

perceive

those frozen narratives of loss

as only part of me,

New words,

New sentences.

New narratives,

New stories made from generous recognitions grow,

if what’s perceived is held,

like iron in the fire,

till transformation comes.

Burned into being by this blazing,

Transmuted,changed.

New conceptions

linked to draw, as from a different view. point.

Then, recognised, by heart and soul,

They shall combine to makes a larger whole.

Thank you for your funny face

Image

 

Thanks for  all those calls and emails,
Thanks for caring that I’m here.
In my darkest, lonesome moments
These replies will keep you near.

Thanks for answering my long letters
Thanks for all the time you give.
Thanks for sharing heartfelt thoughts
And being so generous with your love.

Thank you for your wit and grace,
Thank for your funny face.
Thank you for your deep blue gaze and
Thank you for your warm embrace.

Thank you,thank you,thank you,thank.
Love you,love you,love you,Love.
Thank you,thank you,thanks to you,
Because,because,because,Because

I never knew

1.Blake saw infinity in a grain of sand…and spent an eternity in the shower.. [h

I never knew they even had showers back then!

2.Infinity is unimaginable,indescribable and unfathomable

and all in eight letters.

3.Eternity could seem short when writing is going well

and an hour may seem agonizingly long if you are unhappy.

4.Why did Blake single out one grain of sand?
Was he going to sow  it?

He wanted a desert in London.Does sand grow or is it fixed?

5.Aren’t thoughts intriguing?
And all free if your head is empty”

Autumn love

 

Image

 After summer’s  sultry flowers,

 We get autumn showers.

 Winds that blow.

 Leaves that glow.

 ,Nature’s wealth is ours.

Harvest grain and harvest corn.

 All  our food from earth  is born.

 Warmth of sun-

 Ripeness come-

 Fruits and nuts adorn.

 Trees are turning red and gold

In the glancing sun.

 Leaning down I see your face.

 Autumn love has come

The Stan saga.. A letter from Mary,author of the book,”Wittgenstein’s cats and the Enigma code.”

Photo1378

The Pilchards.

23,Sweetnames Avenue

Knittingham

Near Nottingham.

England

Dear Jane

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 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 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 colours 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.

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 to

wash your hair too much… and comb it too…perhaps we could wear wigs.

Do write soon,Love always,Mary.

 

Invent a word today:Exwasperated


DSCF0360 2
I firmly believe we all have the right,even the duty,to invent new words but if we do so,they won’t enter the language unless we can get other people to use them too.So here is one of mine suitable for someone who has limped to the town and got into Boot’s but then been unable to find the prescription she’s been carrying about for days.Then found her mobile was flat and the mechanical charger brought on a wasp like pain in her wrist
Old shrub by wall 2
Exwasperated

Having been unable to achieve your objectives for the day because of the weather,people being awkward and the buses being cancelled
you are then
1.Stung on the nose by a wasp
2.Stung to the heart by a friend’s rude remarks.
3.Stung by a demon that was hiding in your bed

Does God get depressed?


Bus view 3

[ From a photo using Artweaver]

If God had to rest on the seventh day,she must get tired.And if he can get tired then he might get depressed.Especially when she looks down on us here all fighting,squabbling and showing envy,hatred and malice
So,for God’s sake
BE GOOD

Trust the unknown force that grew you

“All shall be well,and all manner of things shall be well”
St Julian of Norwich

 

Trust the unknown force that grew you,
From the joining of two cells.
Act of love, of self giving,
Thus to grow a newer self.

 

Trust the dark,the unseen aspects
Of the life we all do live.
Trust that there is wisdom elsewhere,
To your emptiness to give.

 

Wait in patience for the time
When inspiration comes at last
Trust in darkness,silence,lowness.
Opposition forms the cross.

 

Pain is bearable in lowness,
Like the worm in earth I dwell.
When I look I see the sunrise

And I trust all shall be well.

My scruples and other thoughts

 

 

Pray Father,give me a Dressing.It is five Tweets since my last Depression
So what have you done now?
Well,as I’ve done nothing wrong today I am suffering from Pride.
You seem to think about yourself too much…maybe
How much is too much,Uncle?
Well,when we are happy and doing something we enjoy,we forget ourselves entirely.
and that is the best way to be.
But first we need some security.How can I get that.
You need a spam guard for your mind!At the moment you are on automatic which is the default setting of your brain to act like a reptile…
Thanks very much,Father,I never knew I was a reptile.Did they have scruples..
It was kill or be killed.Don’t you see the scruples are an attack on yourself?The reptile is attacking you… as you have frightening thoughts it’s annoyed.
So how do I rebutt these? thoughts
Say,Alright if I’m the most wicked man in the city,smite me and do your worst.I am not afraid any more..I have done my best and if it’s not good enough strike me dead now or forever give me peace,
And what will happen after that?
Well,we shall see.But you have to face this thing head on.Bring it to a head.Lance the boil.
So if God does smite me dead?
Well, do you really think you are so wicked because you stole a half penny from the charity box fifty years ago>
I see it’s a sort of pride… a theatrical display of guilt.
Yes, quite right.Anyway, if you survive your ordeal let me know and I’ll give it a try.
Why,don’t say you have scruples too?
Yes,I have scruples about giving advice to people.If they follow it and it’s no good… it worries me….
Why don’t we do or die together,Father?
I’ll give you a buzz.
Meanwhile am I absolved?
Yes, dear boy.Sometimes I wish I could be dissolved..
Why is that?
I’d like to lose myself.
Why not try reading a good book…I recommend Nicholas Freeling.
But I feel guilty reading.
Now look here,Father,God helps those who help themselves….give yourself a break…
A good novel, a cup of tea and a pussy on your knee,you’ll be transformed.
Thank you,my child.
Don’t mention it,Father.
Don’t mention what?
They never say.
It’s just a phrase or is it a phase?
It’s all Greek to me.
I know some very sweet Greeks or are they geeks?
Just one letter can make such a difference..
Write soon.

British Grammar


My last boyfriend went from adoration to disillusionment  with me in two weeks

That’s pretty fast!

Apparently I was not fast enough.

You’re better off without that sort.

So,how about someone who loved,adores and worships you for six months before throwing you out like an old newspaper?

You should have let him read between the lines!

Be serious.I am deeply wounded,disjointed and falling into despair

But you only knew him for two weeks

But we spent every night and day together.

Always a mistake.Has he no job?

Yes,he’s hoping to seduce a rich widow.

So how did he get into your arms?

He imagined I looked very rich and was ready to shoot my husband.

But you have no husband

It’s all hypotheatrical.

You mean hypothetical?

Aren’t words odd when you stare at them for a long time?

Like men!

Never stare at a man or he will wonder if you fancy him…

What’s wrong with that/

What you need is a man who’s less impulsive.A slower kind of man..
Not these men who go through you like a dose of salts and leave you tied to the lavatory.

He never tied me to a lavatory

No he left you tied to 100 boxes of paper hankies.

It was so thoughtful of him tp bring them

You could say that

That!

Oh,you are so funny.I just adore you.Tell me,have you ever fancied another woman?

Another than what?

Yourself!

I don’t fancy myself.

What a pity!

Why?

It takes the waiting out of wanting!

Like a credit card

Think about it

I already think too much

Oh,well,come here and I’ll show you what a woman can do for you

Er, sorry,,, I have an appointment..

With whom?

My dentist.

Don’t tell me you are going out with him.

No,we are staying in

Well,you are a fast worker

I have to be as they all leave me so soon

There’s a moral here.

You write it down and show me tomorrow…

I see… off to see how comfy his new dental chair is

I always thought a dentist would be good for a sado-masochistic relationship… or bad of you catch my drift.

I think you are an absolute fool.Will you never learn

What@

To be more discriminating

No,I’ll be incriminating..discrimination is a crime

Whom shall you incriminate

The dentist.. whom else?

My,our English grammar is coming on.

Now we have to call it,British grammar.

But we have no language called British!

British English!

I blame Human Rights Legislation

Oh,give over.It was that common market…I blame de Gaulle!

And that is the end of

“Thoughts for Today” on the BBC Home Service…. and what a service!

Artifacts

Another poet speaks to you..

Paul F. Lenzi's avatarPoesy plus Polemics

emotions have geometry

itinerant objects that occupy

psychic articulate space

between thoughts and beliefs

all these temporal artifacts

transient fleet or persistent

they bear their own

boneless dimensions

hues marking identity

recognized even by

dullest of minds

but they cannot be held

no hand can caress them

or punish their shapes

they are born live and die

by inherent volition

a mystical spark

always felt never touched

for to do so would

trigger oblivion

ripping the mind

from the heart

from the soul

leaving nothing but someone

like those we have seen

walking aimless

through meaningless lives

never knowing the joys

of knowing the self

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