It's been a barren period. Living without sustenance, getting used to the famine but never accepting of it.
Can abstinence be good for man? Man that needs a warm touch to nurture both body and soul. We talk not of self-control and restraint. It is more a case of enforced chastity. How long are we to be denied that sensual caress, the fiery glow that so often precipitates an exquisite flowering?
And then she appears. Warm, inviting, a promise of fulfillment. She smiles. You can't help but smile back. The juices of nature respond to her seduction.
She flashes her frilly knickers like a tart enticing her suitor. He warms under the promise of her passion.
And then - she's gone. The light dimmed. The feast but a mirage. The famine for real. Golden hues once again demolished by a blanket of grey. Raindrops like tears. When will she return?
The sun is a fickle affiliate of nature. How dare she shine with such promise and then bugger off again?!!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Split Personalities
Do your 'real' friends know the 'virtual you'?
It has come to my attention that people who actually KNOW me are reading this blog. As in people who have actually MET me, worked with me, drunk with me. This is NOT allowed! This is part of my 'other' life and I have been trying to keep them separate - hence the two Facebook accounts (actually at one point there were three but I got just too confused!). Cross pollination is not permitted and stringent measures have been put in place to avoid you meeting each other.
Do we all have different parts of ourselves for difference parts of our lives? I'm damn sure I ain't alone in this! And don't you try telling my I have a split personality and should see a shrink fastest.
Come on - 'fess up.
I know at least one writer friend (virtual so far) who has a whole range of different on-line personalities. How on earth do you remember who you are at any one time? Surely shades of Mrs Doubtfire as she/he races from one side of the restaurant to the other, trying to be two different characters and two different sexes at the same time. Frankly how my virtual friend isn't incarcerated in an institution is a mystery to me.... or maybe he is. Such is the nature of the internet life. How can you be sure anything is what it claims to be? But that's yet another story.
Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes. You see, this is me trying to write, pretending that I am a writer or at least a potential one. My blogger friends are my writer friends. We share nonsense about how we can't write, should write, will write, want to write, and while we're doing all that we're actually sharing insecurities, fears and future plans. In some ways my writer friends, my 'virtual' friends, know more about me than my work friends (although what I have revealed to the latter during drunken nights out doesn't bear thinking about!). You write, you reveal - that's the way it goes even if you're writing fiction. In my humble opinion we constantly leak stuff about ourselves in writing and releasing your words for public consumption is scary!
And never mind the 'family' friends. Lord if they cotton on to this the whole game is up!
Now if Toby were here (http://www.tobyneal.net/) she'd probably be telling me that an integrated personality is a healthy personality. Are there three different 'me's'? If so, is this a problem? How bad could it be if one part were to meet another part?
What if my work friends discover I am not the competent, creative and in-control manager they thought I was but a blithering idiot with no willpower, a tendency to ramble in writing and an inability to finish a book?
What if my writer friends work out I am really not a writer at all (I think some of them are getting very close to working that out anyway)?
What if my family friends are alerted to the fact that - OH MY GOD - I am actually 'talking' to 'strangers' on the t'internet?! ('Course you're not strangers but you know how some people are about that and you should hear how I lecture my kids on the subject!).
But see the walls are cracking as we speak. The leakage has started. I blame this bloggin' nonsense. Is it possible that eventually I will become one person and not several? And if so - who on earth will that person turn out to be...?
It has come to my attention that people who actually KNOW me are reading this blog. As in people who have actually MET me, worked with me, drunk with me. This is NOT allowed! This is part of my 'other' life and I have been trying to keep them separate - hence the two Facebook accounts (actually at one point there were three but I got just too confused!). Cross pollination is not permitted and stringent measures have been put in place to avoid you meeting each other.
Do we all have different parts of ourselves for difference parts of our lives? I'm damn sure I ain't alone in this! And don't you try telling my I have a split personality and should see a shrink fastest.
Come on - 'fess up.
I know at least one writer friend (virtual so far) who has a whole range of different on-line personalities. How on earth do you remember who you are at any one time? Surely shades of Mrs Doubtfire as she/he races from one side of the restaurant to the other, trying to be two different characters and two different sexes at the same time. Frankly how my virtual friend isn't incarcerated in an institution is a mystery to me.... or maybe he is. Such is the nature of the internet life. How can you be sure anything is what it claims to be? But that's yet another story.
Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes. You see, this is me trying to write, pretending that I am a writer or at least a potential one. My blogger friends are my writer friends. We share nonsense about how we can't write, should write, will write, want to write, and while we're doing all that we're actually sharing insecurities, fears and future plans. In some ways my writer friends, my 'virtual' friends, know more about me than my work friends (although what I have revealed to the latter during drunken nights out doesn't bear thinking about!). You write, you reveal - that's the way it goes even if you're writing fiction. In my humble opinion we constantly leak stuff about ourselves in writing and releasing your words for public consumption is scary!
And never mind the 'family' friends. Lord if they cotton on to this the whole game is up!
Now if Toby were here (http://www.tobyneal.net/) she'd probably be telling me that an integrated personality is a healthy personality. Are there three different 'me's'? If so, is this a problem? How bad could it be if one part were to meet another part?
What if my work friends discover I am not the competent, creative and in-control manager they thought I was but a blithering idiot with no willpower, a tendency to ramble in writing and an inability to finish a book?
What if my writer friends work out I am really not a writer at all (I think some of them are getting very close to working that out anyway)?
What if my family friends are alerted to the fact that - OH MY GOD - I am actually 'talking' to 'strangers' on the t'internet?! ('Course you're not strangers but you know how some people are about that and you should hear how I lecture my kids on the subject!).
But see the walls are cracking as we speak. The leakage has started. I blame this bloggin' nonsense. Is it possible that eventually I will become one person and not several? And if so - who on earth will that person turn out to be...?
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Which words loom large in your mind?
What do different words mean to you? Are some more special than others? Which ones create a strong emotional reaction in you? What do those words say about you? Presumably the words that appear bold in our mental imagery are those words that are significant to us. Do words appear visually in your mind?
Do you sometimes hear a word you have not previously paid much attention to and suddenly it looks totally different?
'Tender'. This is not a word I have ever paid much attention to until someone recently highlighted it to me. You know how some words look large in your mind and others don't? 'Peripatetic' is my favourite word - probably because I like travelling. Or maybe because I like the rhythm and crisp sounds of p-p-t-t-c.
'Tender' is a graceful, gentle (obviously) and self-effacing word - which may explain why it hasn't impinge so greatly on my consciousness before. I shall make it a bold word. Tender.
Happiness. This has always been a bold word in my mental cloud. Did you know that Google collect all the phrases people write in blogs, mail and etc on the web about the writers' feelings and collate them all so they can work out how different people feel at different times, ages and locations. Fascinating (slightly disturbing but that's another story). They have concluded that younger people see happiness as excitement and older people see it as peace.
So if any of us oldies are still seeking excitement are we expressing our youthful spirit or are we refusing to accept our age? And would we be happier settling for peace rather than excitement? Or it is perhaps possible that excitement can also bring peace? Or is it something more than, or something different to excitement, that we seek?
SLEEP - definitely bold and looms large on the personal tag cloud.
Have you heard of those? Tag clouds are the latest thing. Apparently a must in presentations and the like these days. No self-respecting web site should be without on.
So what would my tag cloud look like?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Simple Pleasures
So some self-help guru or psychologist of some sort says take time at the end of the day to count your blessings - literally make a list of ten things that brought you some happiness, however small.
So I did. And they were small:
1. Walking the dog along the river, enjoying the air, the river life, enjoying the sheer joy of the dog, chatting to fellow dog-walkers.
2. The morning cappuccino at the local cafe, just the way I like it (it takes a few days training but eventually I beat them into submission - must be extra hot but not scalded and still frothy. The trick is to heat the cup first).
3. And - dare I mention this one? It's my dirty little secret. I've not admitted it to any of you before. You never asked. Why would I volunteer it? Maybe we'll come back to that one later....
4. Switching on the computer, opening emails, checking Facebook (both accounts - don't ask...) and - if I'm really lucky - finding that someone still remembers me! Comparing moods, word counts, worries and lack of oomph and knowing that you are not alone in your sloth and indecision.
5. Taking photographs at the school gig and downloading them afterwards to crop, edit, copy and distribute. Enjoying the compliments from recipients even though they weren't particularly good pics given the lack of available light.
6. Helping that charity find a celebrity to front it and writing a press release for them because this is my area of expertise and I have the time to help them. Getting such effusive thanks for doing so little.
7. Making a date to meet two good girlfriends, safe in the knowledge that we will drink too much, talk lots, be loud and laugh loads.
8. Getting my daily dose of fellow bloggers and enjoying their insights (http://www.tobyneal.net/), their wicked humour (http://authorpoppet.wordpress.com/poppets-blog/), their fine writing (http://jakebarton.wordpress.com/) and their inexhaustible energy (http://piratina-plankster.blogspot.com/). (And more, of course - never start a list. It's doomed to serious omissions!)
9. Putting my feet up for an hour in the afternoon, reading the papers, the Sunday supplements, the latest book, with a cup of tea and a big soft cushion at my back. Bliss.
10. Going to bed at night, snuggling under a soft warm duvet, a perfect pillow made from the feathers of some Eastern bird, Polish? Russian? Duck? Goose? Siberian? Hungarian? I forget but I can't believe it took me so long to buy a PROPER, expensive duvet and pillow. We spend a third of our life in bed - for gawd's sake invest in it!
So, anyway, I did that list at a time when I reckoned my life was pretty poor and woke up to the fact that these simple daily pleasure are good pleasures - the best in fact. Like a hug, a laugh with the family, a cuddle with the dog.
Furthermore, it helped me decide that ending the daily cappuccino at the cafe with their overinflated prices was not the way forward. To hell with the budget, that cappuccino brings me great pleasure: sitting outside whatever the weather, chatting to the locals who invariably stop to talk and pat the dog, watching the dog queue outside the butchers for his bone - the whole pantomime of that morning coffee.
Oh, and pleasure number three?
Don't hate me, please....
It's only the one, honest. A routine habit thing not an addiction thing. It just goes so well with the cappuccino. One a day - that's all....
I enjoy a cigarette with my cappuccino. OK, it's out now. I've come out. I am NOT a smoker. Smokers smoke regularly through the day. I have just the one - in the morning - with the cappuccino.
And I enjoy it!
So I did. And they were small:
1. Walking the dog along the river, enjoying the air, the river life, enjoying the sheer joy of the dog, chatting to fellow dog-walkers.
2. The morning cappuccino at the local cafe, just the way I like it (it takes a few days training but eventually I beat them into submission - must be extra hot but not scalded and still frothy. The trick is to heat the cup first).
3. And - dare I mention this one? It's my dirty little secret. I've not admitted it to any of you before. You never asked. Why would I volunteer it? Maybe we'll come back to that one later....
4. Switching on the computer, opening emails, checking Facebook (both accounts - don't ask...) and - if I'm really lucky - finding that someone still remembers me! Comparing moods, word counts, worries and lack of oomph and knowing that you are not alone in your sloth and indecision.
5. Taking photographs at the school gig and downloading them afterwards to crop, edit, copy and distribute. Enjoying the compliments from recipients even though they weren't particularly good pics given the lack of available light.
6. Helping that charity find a celebrity to front it and writing a press release for them because this is my area of expertise and I have the time to help them. Getting such effusive thanks for doing so little.
7. Making a date to meet two good girlfriends, safe in the knowledge that we will drink too much, talk lots, be loud and laugh loads.
8. Getting my daily dose of fellow bloggers and enjoying their insights (http://www.tobyneal.net/), their wicked humour (http://authorpoppet.wordpress.com/poppets-blog/), their fine writing (http://jakebarton.wordpress.com/) and their inexhaustible energy (http://piratina-plankster.blogspot.com/). (And more, of course - never start a list. It's doomed to serious omissions!)
9. Putting my feet up for an hour in the afternoon, reading the papers, the Sunday supplements, the latest book, with a cup of tea and a big soft cushion at my back. Bliss.
10. Going to bed at night, snuggling under a soft warm duvet, a perfect pillow made from the feathers of some Eastern bird, Polish? Russian? Duck? Goose? Siberian? Hungarian? I forget but I can't believe it took me so long to buy a PROPER, expensive duvet and pillow. We spend a third of our life in bed - for gawd's sake invest in it!
So, anyway, I did that list at a time when I reckoned my life was pretty poor and woke up to the fact that these simple daily pleasure are good pleasures - the best in fact. Like a hug, a laugh with the family, a cuddle with the dog.
Furthermore, it helped me decide that ending the daily cappuccino at the cafe with their overinflated prices was not the way forward. To hell with the budget, that cappuccino brings me great pleasure: sitting outside whatever the weather, chatting to the locals who invariably stop to talk and pat the dog, watching the dog queue outside the butchers for his bone - the whole pantomime of that morning coffee.
Oh, and pleasure number three?
Don't hate me, please....
It's only the one, honest. A routine habit thing not an addiction thing. It just goes so well with the cappuccino. One a day - that's all....
I enjoy a cigarette with my cappuccino. OK, it's out now. I've come out. I am NOT a smoker. Smokers smoke regularly through the day. I have just the one - in the morning - with the cappuccino.
And I enjoy it!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Ten Rules of Alcohol
1. Don't do it.
2. If you must, be moderate.
3. Failing points 2 and 3, don't keep waving an empty bottle above your head to attract the waiting staff.
4. Do not all stand up and unzip your jeans together in a busy restaurant to compare stomachs (at least we never got onto the subject of 'gardening').
5. Do not fall asleep on the train. You WILL miss your stop.
6. Do not attempt to join in a family argument when unable to string a coherent sentence together. You're bound to find yourself on the losing side.
7. Do not lie down, the room will spin.
8. Stockpile orange juice before you go out. Trying to open a can of grapefruit segments whilst the room is spinning can lead to fatal accidents.
9. Do not under any circumstances attempt to return calls or answer emails. In fact do not go near any form of communication be it 'phone, computer, jungle drums or carrier pigeon (the latter will in hale your fumes, settle on your head while the sky spins and shit on your hair).
10. Don't do it.
2. If you must, be moderate.
3. Failing points 2 and 3, don't keep waving an empty bottle above your head to attract the waiting staff.
4. Do not all stand up and unzip your jeans together in a busy restaurant to compare stomachs (at least we never got onto the subject of 'gardening').
5. Do not fall asleep on the train. You WILL miss your stop.
6. Do not attempt to join in a family argument when unable to string a coherent sentence together. You're bound to find yourself on the losing side.
7. Do not lie down, the room will spin.
8. Stockpile orange juice before you go out. Trying to open a can of grapefruit segments whilst the room is spinning can lead to fatal accidents.
9. Do not under any circumstances attempt to return calls or answer emails. In fact do not go near any form of communication be it 'phone, computer, jungle drums or carrier pigeon (the latter will in hale your fumes, settle on your head while the sky spins and shit on your hair).
10. Don't do it.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Insomnia
Four hours is not enough. Four hours of sleep does not come close to filling my quota. Margaret Thatcher and Winston Churchill may have managed wars on four hours but I won’t even be able to handle the sibling skirmish that is destined to begin within the next hour. (Of this I am confident on the basis they set up the battle lines last night. It involves a maths compass and a protractor.)
Going to sleep at 1.30am is not a bad score. Insomniacs everywhere will be jealous of such a modest figure; but to wake again at 5.30am – now that’s just plain unfair.
Last night’s dilemma? Should I get up to put down the thoughts I have racing around my head or should I screen them out, meditate my muscles into a more mellow state and hope for sleep? If I am destined to parry words late at night yet fail to think anything new during the day then am I to be nocturnal? Can I afford to lose the words overnight? Can I operate effectively without the sleep?
What’s more important? The words or the sleep?
Answers on a postcard, please.
And does it matter? What’s in the diary today?
Lunch with the girls. Recent research says that lunch with the girls is way better than sex in helping you to stay young – or did I just make up the sex bit? It’s possible. Anyway, the lunch-with-the-girls thing prolonging your life was for real – well the article was real. Was the research? How could we possibly doubt The Daily Mail? I will die early if I don’t make more effort. Then again I did have lunch with a girlfriend yesterday. Feast or famine.
We seem to be wandering off track.
Where was I? Lunch with girls today: two of my oldest friends – ‘old’ being the operative word. We will compare and contrast wrinkles, anti-ageing creams, cellulite, hormonal imbalance and men. One of my dear friends has got herself a toy-boy. The other is single. Neither have kids. They will reveal lots. I will reveal much less. My role is agony aunt. That's the way of it. Perhaps that should change. We will drink steadily as we normally do, the lunch menu blending into the evening menu, the restaurant staff smiling indulgently and maybe even offering a free shot of some firewater. Such generousity will undoubtedly raise the volume.
Do I really need a good night’s sleep for a social occasion such as this? Of course I do. Otherwise one drink and I shall be snoring under the table. But more importantly I need to arrive looking as fresh-faced as possible otherwise I shall lose hands down in the compare and contrast exercise!
Time to wake the kids. Let the battle being….
Can't
Never start a sentence with “I” and never say “can’t”.
Ah quit with your stupid rules.
Do as I say.
“Do it”. Oh very clever, turn a negative into a positive, reframe your thinking, blah blah bloody blah, hokum pokum piffle puffle!
We are sounding bitter and twisted today, aren’t we?
I can’t let it out.
There you go again. Don’t start a sentence with “I”. It’s egotistical. And “can’t” is for people who can but won’t let themselves believe it.
Poppycock! What wise book did you get that cute stuff from? Plenty of good “can’t” in the world. How about ‘you can’t judge a book by its cover’; ‘you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink’; ‘you can’t wake a person who is pretending to sleep’? Hmm, what about those? Where would those sayings be without “can’t”.
We’re not talking about sayings. We’re talking about you.
But you said I wasn’t to be egotistical.
Let me repeat. Never start a sentence with “I” and don’t say “can’t”.
If you can say “don’t” how come I can’t say “can’t”? Ha, two in one sentence. This is fun!
We’ll be here all night if you don’t start making an effort. Just do as I say.
OK. “Let it out”. But see that is exactly what I am saying I can’t do!
Ah, but you can – if you try.
But it may be difficult to control if I let it out. Best it stays inside with me. It could hurt someone.
You mean it could hurt you.
Maybe I do mean that.
How so?
It’s an unruly beast. It’s trained but not perfect. It may do the wrong thing and get told off and it gets very unhappy then. It’s happy where it is - comfy bed, plenty of affirmations. I feed it well.
Maybe that’s the problem.
What problem? Who said there was a problem?
You said you can’t do it which suggests you want to do it. If you want to do something but your mind is stopping you then it’s potentially a problem.
What if I wanted to kill someone and my conscience doesn’t hold me back – wouldn’t that be more of a problem?
A moral and social conscience is a good thing but we both know that’s not what we are talking about.
I’m not sure I know what we are talking about. Not making a whole lot of sense so far!
You are being purposefully obtuse: a common technique to avoid facing the issue head on.
Talking of heads, mine hurts.
Hmmm. Well go to bed then and we’ll try again tomorrow.
But I can’t sleep…….
OK, OK – “But sleep”.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Autumn Ends
Autumn all too quickly goes
Winter comes and all is froze
Hard, uncompromising, cold
No bright bloom, no bug will flirt
No foliage graces hardened dirt
Faded, jaded, out of sight
Can’t go back where we have been
Seems we are not evergreen
Still we struggle for the light
A glow fast becoming dark
No leaves gild the knobbly bark
A carapace once so smooth
One gusty day, it flies away
Autumn never here to stay
Fading, waning, gone to pot
Can’t go back where we have been
Seems we are not evergreen
For all things, a finite slot
Monochrome the landscape now
Look for colour, wonder how
To slow the seasons’ swagger
Somewhere in the rotting soil
Deep inside where passions boil
Audacious seeds soon to spring
Can’t go back where we have been
Seems we are not evergreen
Still, to lust and life we cling.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Bring on the Sunshine
I've had enough
I really have
Of dark and dismal days
I need some sun
I really do
Those warm, embracing rays
I'm tired now
I really am
Of rising in the gloom
I'd like some light
I'll smile then
I really will
And stop this silly rhyme.....
I really have
Of dark and dismal days
I need some sun
I really do
Those warm, embracing rays
I'm tired now
I really am
Of rising in the gloom
I'd like some light
I really would
And colour in a bloom
I'll smile then
I really will
And stop this silly rhyme.....
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