The government have decided doctors can give love on prescription to older people who often live alone.

The problem is no one seems to know what love would look like

You can’t describe it in words but you would know it if you felt it said Mary Darkwood

She said that if you act lovingly to a person eventually you will begin to love them and they will begin to love you

But she recommends you not to waste your love on men who never get washed. In this time of pandemic we must remember clean hands and possibly clean lips and face and nose are the best way to protect ourselves against catching viruses.

Maybe it is better not to kiss anyone unless you’ve known them for 3-months and you have had time to inspect their bathroom.

And if you are dirty yourself it might be a good idea for jet wash before you go out looking for love.

The time of the hippies has passed. The question of the kind of clothing that you life on men is something that you should think about

I don’t like shorts on most men nor sandals with hairy feet.

Also be aware of very strong deodorants could this be a murderer who is trying to cover his tracks or is he trying to hide the fact that he never gets washed by sprayin ghimself with antiperspirants

Remember that you can make yourself ill using too much antiperspirant because they stop sweat from coming out of the body and if it can’t you will die.

T.his is getting confusing it seems that nature prefers dirt and sweat

I don’t think Jesus would have won a deodorant or antiperspirant even though an angel would have been glad to buy some for him What about Mary Magdalene? I doubt if she wore anything more than red lipstick. And a dress

Well that’s very interesting do you think the doctors in Jerusalem would have prescribed love for their patients? Jesus was a doctor possibly. And look what happened to him.

Where are the real doctors now?

https://lithub.com/read-13-of-the-best-literary-interviews-from-interview/

E

June of 1982, Joan Didion travelled to El Salvador with her husband, John Gregory Dunne, to report on the country for The New York Review of Books. The results of that trip appeared as three articles, and were published in book form last month by Simon and Schuster. To readers familiar with the work of this highly acclaimed essayist, critic, reporter, novelist, and scenarist, the trip made a great deal of sense;­ the region had obviously been on her mind for some time. A Book of Common Prayer, her novel published in 1978, prophetically depicted the downfall of a Somoza-like regime in the imaginary Central American nation of Boa Grande, which bore a startling resemblance to Nicaragua. Moreover, it seemed reasonable to assume that if any writer could get a handle on El Salvador—caught, as it is, in the throes of a savage civil war, as the newly-unleashed anti-Sandinist insurgency in Nicaragua causes tensions in the region to mount, at a time when the political atmosphere of the United States is charged by issues of human rights violations by the Salvadorian Right and the question of increased U.S. military aid ­— it would be Joan Didion.

After reading the book, one thing became searing clear: What has always informed Didion’s non-fiction in the past and distinguished Slouching Toward Bethlehem and The White Album as classics — a sensitivity that is viscerally sensitive, vulnerable yet always tough-minded, an unerringly keen eye for detail and irony, and a prose style of singular brilliance—only makes Salvador that much more devastating. Perhaps the most telling phrases she uses in the book to describe her impressions are those like “a prolonged amnesiac fugue” and “a true noche obscura”— in other words, there is no “handle” in El Salvador; there is mainly the ambition for power — (“Don’t say this, but, there are no issues here,” she is told by a high placed Salvadoran. “There are only ambitions.”) — obfuscated by the rhetoric of “el problema,” “la situacion,” “la verdad,” “la solucion.” Mostly there is “the exact mechanism of terror” she comes to understand so well; there are El Playon and Puerta del Diablo, where the mutilated bodies of the “desaparecidos” are dumped by the death squads, and the kind of “practical information” she imparts at the outset of the book:

In El Salvador, one learns that the vultures go first for the soft tissue, for the eyes, the exposed genitalia, the open mouth. One learns that an open mouth can be used to make a specific point, can be stuffed with something emblematic; stuffed, say, with a penis, or, if the point has to do with land title, stuffed with some of the dirt in question.

“Terror is the given of the place,” she tells us, terror and death are the true tangibles in El Salvador — the rest is rhetoric, illusion. Seated across from her in a suite at The Carlyle, what comes immediately to

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/25/dining/cooking-relief-grief.html

It’s exhausting and seemingly endless, as my colleague David Leonhardt wrote a few hours ago for The Times: “The list from just the past decade includes supermarkets in Buffalo and in Boulder, Colo.; a rail yard in San Jose, Calif.; a birthday party in Colorado Springs; a convenience store in Springfield, Mo.; a synagogue in Pittsburgh; churches in Sutherland Springs, Texas, and in Charleston, S.C.; a Walmart in El Paso; a FedEx warehouse in Indianapolis; a music festival in Las Vegas; massage parlors in the Atlanta area; a Waffle House in Nashville; a gay nightclub in Orlando, Fla.; and a movie theater in Aurora, Colo.”

And I’m here to tell you

Funeral marches horses silent crowds

The one day that our mourning is allowed

The lonely long bereaved find comfort here.

Releasing withheld tears they are sincere.

The gods of war the monarch show their teeth

While we struggling mourners mind our grief

Dukes and earls and princes eye the crowd

Thinking of the sinking of the pound

Houses with extensions will feel cold

What will this do in the polls?

Voter’s won’t like losing their hot air,

The emperor has no clothes on he is bare

God save the King he’s waited long enough

The demons in the Belfry almost laugh

https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2022/sep/18/scramble-for-new-royal-figureheads-begins-among-britains-arts-organisations?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

https://www.motherjones.com/media/2016/09/joyce-carol-oates-soul-white-heat/

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/sep/18/finally-we-have-evidence-that-hell-is-other-people-on-social-media?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

I always enjoyed looking at Maps since I was first shown an atlas when I was 8 years old

My brother who was 1 year older than me was also interested maps and we were interested in the the many roads crossing the industrial area of South Lancashire. And with the aid of the map we could see which times each road went to.

Some of the roads were then regarded as very big like the A6 which I believe went to London although I never went on that road as far as I know no as we have no car and there’s no buses going over there

Interesting difference between my brother and myself which is this :his main interest was exploring the towns that our roads led to

He was able to explore some of the towns on foot or by bicyclen i

My main interest was not the towns but the roads the connections you might say the geometry of the roadsM

But I’d like to see a road with the same name and number going through several different times like the main road at the bottom of our street which eventually went to Warrington although I have never been to warranton in my life

My brother’s main interest apart from that was in geomorphology. He went to a very good university history geography and geomorphology which I also liked.

Unfortunately computer were just coming into use and he ended up finding most of his life studying distance information systems.

I was never quiet sure what it was and what it was used for

But I do know it wasn’t one of his loves when he went into his studies.

So even people with similar genetic inheritance and growing up in the same place always find the interest in very different aspects of the world around them. Well I went to university I studied mathematics of which geometry was obviously apart

I would like going to into largest towns because I wanted to find the book shops and that’s what I saw was in Manchester when I was about 17 years old before that all I seen was a rack of penguin books in a stationary shop

Naturally there was in those days a very large public library well stocked in the town centre and quite good small libraries in the various suburbs.

One of these was near our house and when our dad was very ill he sent us to this library nearly every day in the summer holidays and while we were there we enjoyed for example large bound volume with the readers digest which included

Laughter is the best medicine

At 8 years old I was very interested in this but it did nothing for my father. He died on the Sunday before the schools reopen in September and I never went to that library ever again. Though I knew a lot of routes to get to the library should I ever need to. Should anyone asked me for directions

Here we have Ms Lizzie Truss

We don’t need no ancient albatross

The Tories ruined althe British state

Helped along by Madame Fate

In the doldrums, can’t get out

Does this introduce some doubt?

Where’s the lifeboat shall we go?

Some said yes and some said no

The Titan of the British State

Has no captain has no mate.

Now the lifeboat’s sprung a leak

The British future looks quite bleak

At the very edge of human sight
Places we don’t go till in despair
Love is waiting like a golden light

The world in panic, will the virus bite
Noone ever said this world is fair
At the very edge of human sight

Is there really danger of such might,
Where our hidden fears emerged dark ,bare
Love is fading where’s the sun, the light?

 Panic like a virus can  ignite
Responses that are worse than germs out there
At the very rim of human sight

Our defences that are usually adroit
Now lie like dead young soldiers unrepaired
Love is fading  to a  weaker light

The still,small voice is quieter than a bird
The storm is passing by, will it be heard?
At the very edge of human sight
Love is  dying,looks like candlelight

 

 

 

Jonah you’re no Prince of Wales

You’re no fish for you have got no scales

Oh prophet so wise

God has a surprise

He says he won’t mind if you fail

Mrs Truss give us cake for today.

We will have bread when you have gone away

Tip of the week

Keep bonuses sweet

And keep the men out of your hair.

Mrs Truss once fell out of the bus

But her hide is exceedingly tough

She will break our old bones

Plagiarise poems

Her kindness equates to my rough

We have anl new Leader called Truss

As we stand on the edge of the abyss

She thinks we can fly

Icarus high

Is it morphine this political bliss?

https://www.activebeat.com/your-health/6-tips-to-help-you-through-the-grieving-process/

While not all people shed tears from grief, “Crying is an important part of the grieving process for many people,” notes the Mayo Clinic. If you feel tears trying to fight their way out, you don’t have to hold back. If you do feel like crying but can’t seem to let yourself achieve this, perhaps a visit to a grief counselor is in order.

On the flipside, don’t worry if you don’t feel the need to cry, adds the clinic. Every person grieves in his or her own way, and that may not include tears. Just remember that keeping it all in may lead to mental health troubles down the road.

https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2022-08-28/what-i-needed-was-a-rest-break-on-the-island-of-grieving-and-useless-folks

Let’s go back to anticipatory grief. Unhealthy anticipatory grief is really anxiety, and that’s the feeling you’re talking about. Our mind begins to show us images. My parents getting sick. We see the worst scenarios. That’s our minds being protective. Our goal is not to ignore those images or to try to make them go away — your mind won’t let you do that and it can be painful to try and force it. The goal is to find

https://hbr.org/2020/03/that-discomfort-youre-feeling-is-grief

Let’s go back to anticipatory grief. Unhealthy anticipatory grief is really anxiety, and that’s the feeling you’re talking about. Our mind begins to show us images. My parents getting sick. We see the worst scenarios. That’s our minds being protective. Our goal is not to ignore those images or to try to make them go away — your mind won’t let you do that and it can be painful to try and force it. The goal is to find

https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-2001-apr-04-me-46632-story.html

U

Poems rhyme some of the time; oftentimes they don’t. But what distinguishes a poem from other herds of words is how a poem combines rhythm and precision to make meaning and move us: capturing a moment of beauty, sharing an insight, or even just twisting and turning words to make us laugh. Explore the magic and music of poetry and discover how to write poems of your own through these direct links on The Times Launch Point Web site: https://www.latimes.com/launchpoint

Here are the best 

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  sun  drops and  the night  rolls in
But now , new stricken by   a dread of sin
Who shall aid  the souls   derision?
Our  ancient minds fears   day won€’t come again
When  we sleep we’re entertained within
Deft dreams squander all   illusion
When the sun  drops and  the night  rolls in
In reverie we’re loved  and  so  open
Then  fancy turns to full communion
While ancient minds fear   day won’t come again
And so  it was that our own life began
When sperm leaped up in  proud confusion.
When  deep sun  dropped and  a   new night  rolled in
When  ancient  hearts cried  â€”Day  shall come again”

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2017/sep/23/sister-loss-sibling-grief-bereavement-joanne-limburg-brother-death-memoir

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/buddy-system/201710/horizontal-relationships-affection-ambivalence-ambiguity

These are the longest relationships we have. Given the typical lifespan, we co-exist with siblings longer than with our parents, partners, children, and, usually, our friends. As we age, the reasons for needing to get along with siblings often shift. When young, we need to get along with siblings because we live in close quarters sharing bathrooms, bedrooms, and living space. In early adulthood, we may create new families by marrying or partnering, having children, and establishing careers. Siblings may recede in importance during that phase. But, as our parent’s age, caregiving decisions, often regarding life and death, need to be made. We need to collaborate with our siblings to negotiate around our parents’ needs. There is another reason we need to get along with our siblings in adulthood—

https://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/09/books/review/joyce-carol-oates-by-the-book.html

Y

What book had the greatest impact on you? What book made you want to write?

Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland” and “Through the Looking-Glass,” which my grandmother gave me when I was 9 years old and very impressionable. These were surely the books that inspired me to write, and Alice is the protagonist with whom I’ve most identified over the years. Her motto is, like my own, “Curiouser and curiouser!”

If you could require the president to read one book, what would it be?

Our great American tragic-epic, Melville’s “Moby-Dick.” This truly contains multitudes of meanings: the Pequod is the ship of state, the radiantly mad Captain Ahab a dangerous “leader,” the ethnically diverse crew our American citizenry. And to balance this all-male adventure, “The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson.”

What are your reading habits? Paper or electronic? Do you take notes?

Obviously I prefer “paper” books — they are aesthetic objects, usually quite distinct from one another with striking covers and page designs, while electronic books are more or less interchangeable, their 

https://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/27/weekinreview/27grief.html

Meghan O’Rourke: You know, writing has always been the way I make sense of the world. It’s a kind of stay against dread, and chaos. My mother was diagnosed with advanced colorectal cancer in 2006; she was 53, and I was 30. As her disease progressed, I found myself writing down all the experiences we had — the day she got giddily high on morphine at the doctor’s office; the afternoon we talked, painfully, about her upcoming death. It helped me externalize what was happening. After she died, I kept writing — and reading — trying to understand or just get a handle on grief, which was different from what I thought it’d be. It wasn’t merely sadness; I was full of nostalgia for my childhood, obsessed with my dream life and had a hard time sleeping or focusing on anything but my memories. Il

https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/end-of-life/in-depth/grief/art-20045340

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/life-after-50/202207/living-ambivalence-about-people-you-love

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/29/style/modern-love-23andme-family-secret.html

Adults who lost siblings as kids also recall feeling as if their own emotions don’t matter, what the family therapist Pauline Boss calls “ambiguous loss,” or loss without closure. Others have labeled it “hidden grief

“One of the common messages for adolescents whose siblings have died is they have to camouflage their feelings,” said David Balk, a professor at Brooklyn College who has done extensive research

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/12/12/well/family/siblings-death-brother-sister-fatal-illness-disease.html

Shedding tears there’s nothing much to say

Everybody dies in their own way

While we’re healthy we can bawl and shout

Serious illness makes us feel afraid

Conscious of the messes we have made

Remember birthdays and the bag of cards

When they’ve died it feels so cruel so hard.

We like to think we’ve got a chance for Grace

We cant know the time of death or place

Our house is for sale it looks so small.

The vestibule has gone there is a hall

I can’t believe the other people dwell

In a place that we lived in so well

We had no inside toilet we felt cold

Menstruation bleeding we were bold

So we look at photographs with care

But still we see no toilet anywhere

The one outside has disappeared from view

Whatever do these people have to do?

Excretion is a nuisance for us all

But go on sweetheart let your sad tears fall

For rears are clean and will not do as harm

Uric acid rarely has much charm

In the end as untamed as a child

Aged people scream Oh monsters wild

A selfish as a newborn in distress

They want another mother they confess

The one who has the loudest voice survives

In the end we all will lose our lives

Quieter patients suffer through this noise

They may be too weak to raise their voice

Waiting now to surf the final waves.

Who will be the fastest to the grave?