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 |   Maybe meandering, possibly peripatetic and indisputably irregular. |
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So here it is.. a blog. Repository of some of my present musings and interests. Sometimes things pop into my head that should probably stay there - it is possible I shall share at least some of them here. (Naturally I shall filter out the ones about my sordid obsession with the culinary dark arts, one has to protect the innocent!) Please feel free not to take this too seriously, much of it could wind up being snippets of things that amuse me. Yesterday I came up with this: Few politicians can be considered first class, but not a few are number twos. What can I do with it? Nothing springs to mind, except perhaps blog it. Perhaps in some other life I'm a failed stand-up comedian. I have the beginnings of an idea to introduce another player into the Mr Moonlight story, a nice visual has occurred to me, and a summoning gone wrong seems appropriate. When I finish up here I shall literally put pen to paper. I find writing at least initially longhand helps my ideas flow. When I type up what I've written, I give it a first revision at the same time, and as a bare minimum check my spellings and grammar . I do want to keep tabs on my current reading here. I usually have several books on the go at the same time. Currently I am working through 'Pyramids' by Terry Pratchett. I reread Pratchett's books over and over - usually at work where they provide much needed amusement whilst I eat breakfast. 'The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle', by Stuart Turton was loaned to me by a friend who shares a love of murder mysteries, (especially Agatha Christie's works). It is a new take on the genre and very very clever. The protagonist occupies different bodies - a selection of the guests at the house where Evelyn is murdered. Each day he spends in a different guest, and he has been tasked with discovering the murderer - or maybe saving Evelyn from actually being murdered, it is hard to tell. The book twists and turns and is quite intriguing. 'New Science - Principles of the new science concerning the common nature of nations' is an English translation by David Marsh of 'La Scienza Nuova' by Giambattista Vico, published in 1725. Not far into this yet, I had to find a copy of the frontispiece online, as it wasn't included in the Kindle edition. The first part of the book explains the idea - and uses a detailed description of the frontispiece to convey this. So being without it would have made things somewhat harder. 'The Complete Works of Michael De Montaigne' is again a translation, this time by Donald M. Frame. Montaigne's Essays are famous, I kept reading about them, so treated myself to a nice hardbound copy to dip into - usually just before bedtime. So there we have it - a blog entry - enjoy! (whispers almost inaudibly 'Bon Appétit). |
| I am slowly but surely working my way through Herodotus' The Histories. Some of it is hard going, as the author fills paragraphs with references to Argustheopolis son of Herepingpongupsidasy son of the despot of Somewhere I may have mentioned in passing, but then again maybe not. who consulted the oracle at Delphi and was told something obscure, where was I oh yes I was telling you about someone I mentioned two pages and forty-eight names ago. You get the picture I'm sure. However - some of it is very interesting. Not least of which is the story of the King who threw a ring into the sea and was later served a fish with the ring in it. Yep - that story. Or maybe you'd like the one about the wicked stepmother and Queen who prevailed upon her husband to have someone take his daughter away and drop her in the sea. The man entrusted to do so did exactly as told. He also tied a rope around her and once he'd faithfully dropped her in the sea, lifted her out again. Leaving her there hadn't been mentioned. So basically - Snow White anyone? There's another strange one about a man who drops dead in a fuller's shop (a fuller is one who fulls cloth - amazing I know - I think it means pleating or gathering, but I'm not 100% on that). The man is well known in the town, so the fuller locks the shop and goes to relay to his family the bad news. Whilst he is there a man of Cyzicus joins the conversation to say that he'd not long ago see this man on the road - so he couldn't be dead. They all troop off to the shop. When it is unlocked - he's not there!!!!!!! (Herodotus missed the opportunity for an excess of exclamation marks - so I'm added a few for him). "But in the seventh year after that Aristeas appeared at Proconnesus and made that poem which the Greeks now call the Arimaspea, after which he vanished once again." This story intrigued me greatly - i wonder if it is the origin of another tale too. |
| Average basically means - 'in the middle'. It should therefore be no surprise that if one talks of 'average intelligence', then 50% of the population has below average intelligence. In a democracy, pretty much every one of them has a vote. So do 'intelligent' people vote somehow wiser than those who's intellect doesn't match their own? No - of course not. Intelligent people often suffer from self-righteousness, the belief that their opinions cannot be wrong. Which of course they can, and frequently are. The whole concept of democracy is somewhat ridiculous anyway. When the best that a country can offer is 'Current Leader of the Blue Party' versus, 'Current Leader of the Red Party' - note that this applies to the UK and to the USA as well as no doubt many other countries. (And yes I know that in some countries the choice is between Mr. Putin and dying in some godforsaken prison in Siberia.) These people then run our country for a period of time till the next 'election'. It generally makes no difference who wins, because the system exists for the rich, and definitely not for the likes of you and me, (assuming you aren't one of the very wealthy that is.) We vote, or not, based on opinions formed over many years. Many vote the same way their parents do or did. Many vote the same way every time. This is why you have swing states. It is pretty much a given that some states or in the UK constituencies will vote one way, and some the opposite - sometimes this is due to gerrymandering - but it essentially means that if you vote in such a place, your vote is pointless. The results then are decided by a minority, but then this is also the case because the percentage of the population that actually votes is seldom 100%. A government can command 55% of the vote, but if only 35% of the population voted, that isn't saying much. But once you have voted, then you have little influence over how your representative votes on any matter. Usually they will vote according the the party line, whatever that may be. In the UK we have 'whips' who make sure that MPs vote 'the right way.' If you have a huge chunk of cash hanging about in a suitcase of course, then you can make a 'donation', on the understanding that whilst in no way are you buying influence, you are in effect buying influence. One of the main problems is that the people we vote for never actually seem to see themselves as public servants at all. Given they are often very wealthy themselves, (hey campaigns cost money - you got to have money to be able to strand a chance of running, let alone of winning), this is not surprising. They don't base their decisions on the common benefit. They base their decisions on retaining and increasing their own power, both at a party level, and at a personal level. Oh I am sure that there are some decent upright and even honest politicians. But I don't see much sign of them. Is there an alternative? Here is what Sir Winston Churchill said in the House of Commons on 11th November 1947: "Many forms of Government have been tried, and will be tried in this world of sin and woe. No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise. Indeed it has been said that democracy is the worst form of Government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.…" My personal belief is that the only 'solution' to the problems of Democracy is better education. You don't have to be highly intelligent, but you do need to understand what issues a government faces, and how power (and thereby corruption) work, and most of all - how to spot a politician who is utterly selfish. Politicians lie. It would be nice to stand a better chance of being aware of when they are lying. Perhaps every state, every constituency could become a swing state in time. Politicians might have to work a little harder to convince educated people to vote for them. If you don't know what gerrymandering is, here's a Wiki link that explains: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerrymandering |
| I haven't yet recorded the consequence of my attending the theatre to see An Inspector Calls. Sitting in cramped seats for nearly two hours resulted in my knee swelling, and my being unable to bend it. This was very painful, and I could not drive and hardly walk for three weeks afterwards. It still isn't 100% recovered, though I am much better. I was worried if I'd be able to go on holiday - since I could not sit - that required a bent knee. Thankfully some noticeable improvement occurred in the week before I went away, and I did enjoy a few days break. I am currently reading a book about the zettelkasten method of note taking. I don't think that I will be adopting it, but the ideas are still useful. I think adding an index to my existing notes will be sufficient improvement. One of my aims is to write some non-fiction, and my notes will be important to this. I'd like to organise some of my ideas sufficiently to convey them clearly. |
| Last night I went to see a production of J.B. Priestley's 'An Inspector Calls', with eldest son, (who hadn't seen it before), and a colleague from work who loves the play. Pleased to say that eldest son guessed correctly that the Inspector was 'not of the ordinary' quite early on. Work colleague complained that two of their favourite lines might have been missed, though I pointed out that due to the set, which was very unusual, hearing some of the earlier dialogue clearly was somewhat difficult. Centre stage was a house on a platform. It looked like a two-storey house but the door was small - so everyone had to duck to exit or enter. The house then opened out, and inside was a rather small dining room that took up the whole space. There was a metal spiral staircase that could be snapped into position to allow the actors to descend to the stage. Later the whole thing tipped forwards with some unexpected fireworks and bangs, making for an exciting climax as the family lay about the stage - devastated by their ordeal. Several phone calls were made - from an elderly and badly damaged telephone box at the edge of the stage - a slightly surreal touch as they were clearly being made from within the house. The lighting was excellent - one of my long time interests has been how events (discos, plays, presentations etc.) are lit. Here a particularly strong white light was used to good effect backlighting the Inspector and illuminating the Birling family. They were compelled to speak the truth (eventually and reluctantly in Mrs. Birling's case) and the supernatural was indicated but not made explicit. The only complaint I had and have afterwards is that my poor knees are complaining bitterly about having been in a cramped position for nearly two hours. |
| I shouldn't type when I'm tipsy, but I am not often tipsy, and it loosens my tongue so hey hoe and here we go. I am an an angel. I shouldn't tell you that, but I'm going to anyway - or I just did to be completely accurate. With that out of the way, let me explain. Many descriptions of an angel use the term "messenger". That is not strictly true. In the beginning was the Word. We are 'expressions' of the Divine's will. For myself I express change, and as such I understand eternity. 'As it was in the beginning, is now and always shall be.' There - that is eternity. He or she who exists in eternity can state with perfect accuracy that "the time is fast approaching, indeed is already here when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth." Eternity does not start some time in the future. It stands outside of Time's possibilities. You do not die and then wait some undetermined time till Judgement day. Judgement Day is Now - the eternal now - the only instant of reality we ever know, unless we become eternity. Then every when is now - and every where is here. There are hints and shades of explanation available, you may even believe some of them. Try 'Steppenwolf' and note the magic theatre - only for madmen - Angel's are always madmen (or women). All the possibilities exist eternally. Some of us care about you, about us, and we try in our own poor way to show you the way forwards, the nature of reality. But of course - we may be mad. |
| As a follow up to some of my earlier posts: 1) I bought a webcam, but for whatever reason, couldn't get it to work. That said, my camera does record videos, so really I could record something if I was serious about it, so far though, I'm not. 2) Bullet journaling. Now this is working, though I am using it exactly as I wish to, I am using it regularly. One of the things it has help me do is to tidy my desk top considerably. Apparently there was wood under all those shoals of paper... who knew! The other thing it is involved with is me getting to grips with the shop accounts. Going well, and this years tax return is in months early, so ensuring a stress free Christmas and New Year period - at least from that point of view. 3) I have made a notebook, and it isn't too bad at all. One work colleague said that they'd have believed me if I had told them I'd bought it. I learned a bit trying it, and plan to do a bit more - with the possibility of creating a book of poetry. I have quite enough poems to do this with, and the idea rather appeals. 4) I am continuing to read on a daily basis, and have reduced considerably the number of unread books on my Kindle. Some of the books have proved to be very enjoyable reads, some were of dubious quality, but most I have enjoyed a lot. Reading is, I am sure, good for my health. It has engendered a feeling of satisfaction - that the books are getting read; that I have done something positive about a situation which niggled me and because I was worrying that my attention span was dwindling. Applying myself to finish books has reassured me that I can still concentrate, and because I have been reading every day for more than a year and a half now, it's become easier to concentrate when I read. |
| Just a little while ago, whilst listening to Dylan's melody, I had it, or at least it's beginning. A conversation, I seem to write a lot of those, that's what comes of talking to myself, though sometimes I'm a repetitive so and so, and I bore myself, having heard it all before probably a few thousand times I should imagine. But this time it sounded grand in my head, and I went over it a few times as I worked, trying different phrases, enjoying the interplay of my two inner voices as they bickered. "You admire my integrity." said one. "I admire your self delusion." Came the withering reply. I wonder. I wonder if I were to write down those words that oft times reverberate in my mind, whether I could leave them cold and exposed, to shrivel and die? I've done something similar with bad memories, the sort that years later could make me wince with embarrassment over something long forgotten, except by me. Telling a friend and explaining that though the event was perhaps minor in his eyes it still held power over me, dispelled that power. Laid the memory to rest, never since to torment me. If I shared my inner ramblings, would that have the same effect? Is that I wonder, what confession is all about? Laying ghosts to rest? Flushing out the inner toxins, and creating tranquillity. Or if you have no confidence in religion, then a visit to a psychologist might serve a similar purpose. I tried that once, it wasn't remotely successful, though I was more open then than with a priest, probably because I cared less about what the psychologist would think of me. Can one confess to oneself? Self reflective, or is it introspective? Stirring the muddy waters, and weathering the long dark night of the soul. It sounds rather romantic doesn't it? 'Tisn't! Oh I've gathered scraps, some insights, made modifications. But. It is an iterative process, as I've stated elsewhere before. Repeated, periodically. It would be nice to think in some ongoing ascent. But. More often than not it is a case of three steps forwards and two to four steps back. It is hard work to be mindful. Harder still nowadays, with all the fun distractions available. Where will it end? When will it end? It doesn't. It won't. "And isn't life a terrible thing Thank God." |
| "Hello. Hello John? Are you there John?" "Wuugh! Who? Yes, yes it's me." "Ah good. Hi John, it's Dwayne." "Dwayne? My boss Dwayne?" "You got it Buddy, now listen I just need to go over the Marshall figures with you." "I'm, I'm dead Dwayne, how are you even talking to me like this?" "You know Joan Petrochelle in accounts?" "Kind of, small woman, Eastern European?" "That's the lady, well it turns out her Mum is a gifted medium and as I really need to just go over these figures with you..." "So much for having the afternoon off when I'm dead." "Yeah, sorry about that Buddy, now about these figures..." |
| Lest you think I take nothing seriously, I have just spent £110 on a second hand book about cosmogonical poetry to be sent from Australia. I did have an e-book of this, but when I changed computers it stopped working. This is probably the most I've ever paid for one book, but hey ho. I don't smoke, don't drink much. A man has to have some vices! |
| I sat up feeling much better than I had any right to, and even when I turned and looked down at my frankly rather ghastly expression, I merely thought how that would have turned my stomach, had I still been alive. I confess that I felt no surprise that I was dead. After all I had just killed myself. But, I was somewhat taken unawares to find myself still here. Or at least my soul seemed to be. Or was I a ghost now? How does one tell the difference? My speculations were interrupted by the entrance of my wife. "Oh!" She said, looking right through me to my corpse lying on the floor beneath me. 'Oh!' Oh!, is that all? Your husband is dead and all you can muster is 'Oh!'? "Hello. Well I'm not sure really. It's a bit too late for an ambulance, but I expect I'll need one, and probably the police as well. It's my husband. Yes. He's blown his brains out. Yes, I'm pretty sure that he's dead. There isn't a lot of his cranium left, that's why." I listened as she dutifully gave her details, name and address that sort of thing. Then she went to the kitchen and filled the kettle and switched it on. To say I was dumbfounded is an understatement, how could she be so calm? The police arrived, together with no less than three ambulances, which was overkill in my opinion, though no one was interested in my opinion. Probably because they couldn't hear it. Ponsonby came in and gave me a look. I remember reading somewhere that cats can see ghosts, and it did seem to be true. The strange thing is, I could have sworn his look said "Oh the can opener is broken, that's a shame." Then he meowed meaningfully at my wife, who'd just finished making everyone hot drinks. She patted him fondly and reached for a sachet of cat food. Ponsonby gave me rather a smug look and settled down to enjoy his dinner. |
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). I mostly reject that. I'm eating rice with an egg this morning but Pannya just brought me chocolate milk from 7/11 (bless him; I really don't need it).
