This is the summer, the air is warm and the tempers are fiery, and this summer I am going to be a paragon of restraint. I will not overstep my mark, I will not ask for anything that is not offered. I will, if the inevitable happens, record, here, my gradual descent into solitude, for the eventual result of not taking action is, indeed, solitude.
Books, that is what I am turning to this month. Proactive action as suggested by those proactive authors in self help, or maybe in smart thinking. That and a sugar free diet with plenty of water and wholesome exercise.
I heard her on woman's hour talking about the play, and I thought it must have taken a lot of time to create a narrative using only witness statements. Then when we saw the play I felt the power of pulling together the emotion is those victim statements, couples with the facts from the inquest. Incredible.
If I were to write a self help book, instead of having cliff-hamgers at the end of each chapter I would have feel good moments, like, what did you like about your boy/girlfriend when you first met; or, list things that other people like about you. While the beginning of each chapter is the hard stuff, like, listing fears, or inadequacies.
So, today was not so great. Quite rubish overall, but there are some bits which were good. Good to see F. Not so good when the argument happened and I felt like I was being blamed. But truth is I wasn't, not a sausage, just that it is difficult to express disappointment without it sounding like blame.
I would much rather be wandering down the nude beach looking at the naked bodies but instead I am enjoying watching the sporting efforts of millionaires, albeit those who have made their millions through their sport. It should be the other way round, and I shouldn't be distracted by perky boobs or a bulging cock, but life is messy and I'm not perfect.
Gosh, isn't it such a dreary thing having to work out what the right thing to say is, firstly working out what is actually important. I wonder if other people just know, me, I have only a vague idea of what goes on in my mind. Then to figure out how to word the message, trixy things words, sometimes I think the words someone says is exactly right but I can't even borrow the words as their experience is theirs. They are only borrowed, after all, words, I mean.
I think the thing about the patriarchy is the grooming. So you have a group maintaining the power through asserting a system that is not the best. The best is to always believe and support the future as the parent does for the child, a system of love that needs to oppressed by decades of grooming, dividing the young into have and nots, those with a future and those without. And both need to be groomed, the master and the servant.
So the story showed a world where many of the good things had not happened due to this battle between the immortals, the one who had stolen the flame of life for us and the one who wanted to punish her for the theft. But the thing the story didn't tell us was that a lot of bad things hadn't happened either. Yet it didn't matter, I hoped the heroes would help her escape the punishment.
Change, it's not in the air, it is not about at all. It feels like I am simply waiting for the disregard, waiting to be listened to and understood but will never be heard as I am not shouting the loudest. I think perhaps if I wandered off into the wilderness then there would be no one there not to listen to me. Which is worse, being lonely when alone or lonely when surrounded by family.
Now I have added to my collections by collecting a little over a dozen photos of painted gorillas, delightful works of art that were, well, not tremendously inspiring. Just delightful, not much more. Not as good as the globe's, or the rabbits, or the lions, or even the benches. That's my lot.
I have drawn a few amorals which are less than 10 images with a single line of text to match them. They have naked figures with animal heads, mostly, playing the roles of the animals in the original fables. I am not sure if they are amoral and I am certain it is moral to try to put a modern edge on an ancient fable. So here goes, let's do it.
This is a very thin life, svelte, perhaps would be a better word as svelte implies something that is to be desired as it means slender and elegant. This life is thin because while I lack in nothing, I have all the entertainment I want, I have the distractions I like, what other lifestyle would allow me the time to paint so many naked middle aged overweight men? But this life is fileed with pauses. Today, I will be waiting for an hour before I can sleep. I won't fill that hour with that entertainment, or with the desired painting. I will just wait, for it is my lot to wait. I am not waiting for something in particular, I am not on Godot's route. I am just waiting for the completion of the hour because I cannot think of the good thing to do in that hour. This is why my life is thin, and thinning like my hair, it is my mind that is getting thinner and hopes fade.
It was a well written story, starting from an interesting idea: what would you do if something really bad was said about your partner. Would believe the bad thing? Would you defend your partner declaring the bad thing a lie? Or would you, like the hero, try to find proof, one way or the other. To be open to either option? It broke their relationship, her approach, which I think is a little naive, a probable plot solution but not a brave one. I think I would be open to both being possible, the bad thing being true and the partner being worthy of love. Though perhaps I would not put my partner in the situation which would test the bad thing.
But what would I do if it was I who did the bad thing? Would I lie and hide, or would I try to understand what people thought of me?
Today my words seemed to have effect because they were said when they were said. Timing. I had through the thoughts earlier in the week, I had thought scenarios in which I could say the words, crowbar them into the conversation, but I am glad I didn't find the way as saying the words at the right time seemed to be as important as choosing the right words to describe the feeling. I guess timing is not just the thing for standup comedians (where the timing is usually just quick responses), or for plot developments in films and books, but timing is also part of our everyday life.
It is so easy to fall into the hole, gravity you evil villian. I was watching a film before I fell in, a film about a woman struggling to love herself, struggling to stop concentrating all her efforts on fulfilling the expectations of those about her, her bos, her husband, and as these things in stories often do the storyteller stripped her away: husband, gone, home, gone, job, gone, and she had to rebuild everything, so she makes a few mistakes before building things about her needs, suiting her. And as the film finished I found I was way down at the bottom of a hole, looking up at the walls that were constructed of all the ways in which my life is built about the needs and convenience of others.
So, I was listening to a conversation on the radio about the things we can do for the future and it was stated the best contribution I could make is to give up meat. It was not the first time I have heard this, so I thought why not. I don't have a philosophy on it, just a thought that it takes a field of barley to feed a cow to provide me with my meet while it takes just an allotment of barley to feed me.
Puddles, and puddling along, another day has gone by without anything of note to be noted. Watching a little sport, doodling a little doodle and a conversation. That is what takes a whole day, dear oh dear. Of course life is like this, some days are memorable but most are not.
The soft toys were stolen, this is a fact. I looked at it several times and I am sure the soft toys had been there but no longer were. As good as having been checked off a checklist. The last time the soft toys were seen was in the hald of a child saying look at this. And look at this. I know there was a lot that hasn't been seen, but it is depressing to think the little child might have just wandered off with the soft toys and no one said Hey!
Saying goodbye can be such a simple thing, but it can be a delicious thing too. Taking a little time to go to the train station, or to the airport. Walking with the person for a while, waiting while they book in. Perhaps having the time for a conversation and a cup of coffee, perhaps just the time for a conversation about nothing of consequence. Before the goodbye. Then watching them go and the slight emptiness and lightness as you walk away from the station, walk back to normal life, normality.
Saying goodbye can be such a simple thing, but it can be a delicious thing too. Taking a little time to go to the train station, or to the airport. Walking with the person for a while, waiting while they book in. Perhaps having the time for a conversation and a cup of coffee, perhaps just the time for a conversation about nothing of consequence. Before the goodbye. Then watching them go and the slight emptiness and lightness as you walk away from the station, walk back to normal life, normality.
Saying goodbye can be such a simple thing, but it can be a delicious thing too. Taking a little time to go to the train station, or to the airport. Walking with the person for a while, waiting while they book in. Perhaps having the time for a conversation and a cup of coffee, perhaps just the time for a conversation about nothing of consequence. Before the goodbye. Then watching them go and the slight emptiness and lightness as you walk away from the station, walk back to normal life, normality.
Slip, slop, and what can we do. Maybe I am not going to be an athlete of any particular note but this morning I struggled so in my little game, my usual little game in which I am usually able to give my partner a good game. Slip, sloppy, not today. And then the rest of the day slipped by in the same way. Another day is nothing.
It feels like I am waiting for a change, waiting for a miracle. There are too many of these little notes that will be filled with self pity should I just let them be what they want to be. And not enough of these notes that would stoically keep carrying on. I guess what I have to do is think of ways to maximise the time that these inconveniences give me and I will start to think of them as opportunities. That can be my miracle.
When I think about my younger days I cannot say I did anything particularly thoroughly. I can say for sure, yes, at some points I threw myself into the activity and sodnthe consequences but the thing I remember most from my younger days was the rest of the time when I was dithering, dithering and pretending I was cool, dithering, pretending I was cool and dreaming of being fanciable.
Perhaps as I got older I began to expect less, less on all levels. Less fun, less care, less partying, less family, less life remaining. The last one is just a sum but there seems to be no reason why I should have less fun, other than I am not putting enough effort into making fun. Time to make some fun happen. Even if other people about me are not.
So she said her name then spelt it, I wrote it and apologised that I may not be able to say her name correctly, a kh was a new sound to me. She said it again and I copied her, not perfect but better than most English who cannot make a gutteral sound. And suddenly she was flirting with me, a simple thing of being curious and trying to understand her otherness. But the thing is we are all other, even those nearest to us are other.
/ˈfɪəf(ʊ)l/
Feeling or showing fear or anxiety. "they are fearful of the threat of nuclear war"
Wobbling, perhaps even stumbling into this new year, without much of a plan other than an idea of trudging along hoping the bad is bottoming out and the good still has a fair way to climb. It is a balance, not so? It is always a balancing trick.
Incredible
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