snippets: 3L, a mind dump

Old Man: "And men feel it worse than women; we feel it harder stronger, deeper, longer and it cuts us for the rest of our days. Even when the scar has healed so well it shows not even to he who bears it. But women tend their sorrow, feed it and turn autumn into an eternal spring. Each memory, each failed romance a testament to their skill with Life. Men may till the soil, but women reap its benefits ... and share them with us."

Y’know.. Discover nothing. The cold that cuts asunder. You walk and explode into a thousand thousand different buildings and more. Nothing ever knows. Nothing ever touches you as it should. Nothing; and worse: no – one. Time to call it a day? I don’t think so: I am the life that never was; the life that never dies. I explode and implode with you inside me; I explode again and still you stay inside. Still we never part, as never we must. Still, and never to know peace. Whee! And then then the rollercoaster takes you on a ride that never stops until you know and then it never and so it never. Tape crush. Your testament becomes your tomb Shackled by the chains of conscience Why spend silver on food when copper will do? When the peace without has stopped your heart and busy mind, it fills you. And becomes you. And you it. And more. You know the thoughts and feelings and nature of everything and as you share with each other, you become each other. You know the tiny rivulets that break away, effervescent, from their Mother Stream, happy tributaries. You know the grandiose woods, trees in silent communion, with roots that stretch from soil to sky and take you with them: stretching bone and sinew effortlessly. You know the vacuum as a melancholy wind, indisposed and curmudgeonly, occasionally wry. You know flame as a chattering crowd, incessant in its search for new experience: “Have I burned you yet? Tasted your flesh?” You feel the joy and glory of life and creation and you celebrate it with your heart and an unmade smile, too broad to fashion, that beams within you. The feeling swells and you realise it is your own, now no-one is holding your hands but they are there, watching, encouraging, and keeping you from harm. But you need more, you cannot contain this feeling, you were not made for it: you are not big enough. So you raise your arms to echo the smile you feel inside. And you hold yourself aloft like a tree to join the earth and sky. And you feel yourself aloft, flying in the blue/grey/black sky (it matters not), safe, never to fall. Sky song: a song that raises your heart to the heavens. “I can’t let that happen: I’ll need to create conflict.” A groundswell and still we surface.

When you start to have the same conversations with different people, it's time to move on. It's a long story and one I'm not inclined to repeat.

My packet, lit by the glowering moon is half-open; I'll take the rest into tomorrow. It's still time. Discovery takes us by surprise. I reach to touch the hard, cold grass and yearn; long for the moments...

Born to this world, I am of it, not a colour on a map, a flag on my chest to make me a target for your prejudice. Let me be that instead if you can agree with me on nothing. If we cannot enjoy the simple exploration of a pot of tea, a moment: eyes raised to the heavens or cast upon the ground. If we cannot share the gift of air that sentient (chaos) gives us, then so be it. But it is for you to make the move in that other direction, for though we may share the fear of living, my way to face frustration is to try to live alongside it: often despairing, criticising, cursing.

[I do not wish for parity/equality]; that is a false premise. I just wish to see a unity in how we stand face to face, an agreement of understanding. We cannot but be different, though we know of those, that which would view us the same, and (we) choose to ignore their blinkered(ness): ants, fleas, maggots all. Because what counts to us is in our heads and through our heads, our hearts.

You'd hate me if I were perfect, wouldn't you?

Objects - arms and legs and.

It improves/helps reinvention.

Because there is order in chaos.

(Anyway) you smile too much: I hope you do, anyway.

A sign: Freedom is yours: Use it!

I'll run into the fantasies you tell me are my own.

There's comfort in just drinking. Turn you on the lathe of my imagination. Locks and keys.

Isn't that what parenthood is: faith and hope. Faith in yourself, faith in fate - the unknown that you don't believe in but you know exists because you know you can't know everything, faith that despite the fucked-up system that puts the past and future before the present, the nanny state before the intelligent, well-meaning, trying their damndest with something that can't be taught parent that it'll turn out right. They'll make it through. Unscathed. And as people. Just decent people.

And hope that maybe they'll be something more. They'll be healthy, happy, safe, a success, a real person.

I dunno. I'm an outsider. I've never made the big decisions. Commitment phobia? Hope not. I'd like to think I'm too good at seeing into the nature of things and people. Most people are pretty easy. And you don't meet them, cause you don't notice them. Or choose to.

Think of a post by Hermes. How we can dispense advice we can't follow. And we all know it's a degree of distance, sometimes. Distance gives perspective. It doesn't matter if you get something wrong. To err is human and all that. H, wouldn't think you would think that, but some might. I think it's more about how you handle the aftermath; how you get out. Can you leave the other(s) with their dignity (or whatever's at stake) intact? Without being sanctimoniuos, patronising, condescending, dumb; and, if you're lucky, a bit of your own?

Or not, as you should have gathered by now.

Church bells ringing on a Sunday morning, over the trees and across the dew-slicked grass and into my room soothe me sonourously from my slumber; a reverse lullaby.

"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger." In present mood my reply to that might be: "Tuberculosis".

Your forgiveness I already have: a parcel labelled "emergency rations", it has no weight.

These people will have moved on; taking my life here with them. So I must travel futher to find a new one. (The tourist)

cut with caustic words and coruscating smile - Diana

I scoop and he is gone - his shell disintegrates into a thousand thousand mites that fly at me, attacking, seeking new dead among the living. (Save the locket, which remains, a picture of us as twins.)

To talk to others, in equal communion. It is only when you opened me so easily (that)I understood how much I respected you not just as a person, but as you.

A quick flick-look and she is gone: fodder for the men. The stuff of legends is powerful motivation indeed and he knows it will bolster and boost his forces.

Champagne sparkle, champagne words. I avoided you because I thought you were who you are - (used).

Dear blog people. I noticed the “flag” tag some while ago and did the follow up research on it, once I’d determined its purpose. The postulation that to not promote a multiple-flagged blog was of concern to me. Despite your promises that this was not censorship, presumably because you were allowing those who had written the blogs to continue to write, I considered my concerns unassuaged. Nor did your promise that you you would continue to remove those blogs that were patently and obviously “beyond the pale” in terms of their radical, or plainly hate-filled message, which seemed to have been added as a way of showing how reasonable you were being in your actions. It has occurred to me, albeit through the mind of another, that this process is open to abuse all too easily. For example: someone whose politics is right of centre has read something they consider offensive. It happens to be from a left of centre minded person. The former has some friends set up blogs and they jointly conspire to have the other blog “censored”. Some people for a “lark” pick on a blog and it gets “censored”. “Not censored!”, you say, “We have controls in place.” I asked you about your controls (let us for now ignore that perhaps the time allowed to make my query might have led to it being somewhat abstruse) and you referred me to the faq that I had read and that was sufficiently unsatisfactory that I felt I had to enquire further. For example: how many “flags” does it take before your committee reviews the blog in question? Who comprises said committee? What qualifications do they have and can I join? Why not? Is there an appeal process? Were I “flagged to obscurity”, would I have a right of appeal, or even know it had been done? Is there a “We love this blog!” flag? Is there any form of punishment for malicious flagging? How does the non-promotion take place and what restrictions are placed on the blogger, links to it and so forth? “My God!” you (perhaps) say “What a fuss over something we did that will affect very few, and with the best of intentions!” I happen to believe in freedom of speech. Perhaps I heard of Disraeli at an impressionable age, who knows? And I happen to disagree with you that it is not censorship. I’m currently in Russia. Once upon a time were I here I could write a letter to my family (some of us still like that method of communication) but what they would receive, if anything at all, might well be very different. My serendipitous membership of that year’s pogrom might ensue, were I a native, or perhaps not even were I sufficiently heinous. While I accept that this is on a completely different scale in terms of the level of severity of response, it is no different in that the behaviour is to allow ideas and thoughts to not be seen by others. In short, it is censorship. I’ll digress slightly, in the hope of making a point and distasteful that it is to discuss politics, especially about a situation involving another's country. Like the majority of the British public (if opinion polls are to be trusted), I saw no reason for Iraq to be invaded notwithstanding the putative presence of WMDs nor, indeed, the far better reason that the regime there was not one that could be said to be “good” by modern-day, western standards (and who’s to say those standards are “right”?). Ignoring the individual factors present in Iraq as described by several British diplomats to the current Prime Minister (as much as I know of them), the fact that the regime was supported previously by the West when it suited their “needs”, and the reported facts about non-cooperation with UN nuclear weapons inspectors, ultimately the invasion was a reversion to the days of the kings of old, when “might was right”. And what right did anyone have to invade another sovereign country? Who are we (The West) to say our view is right? The point being that you, blogger.com, are in a position of power and will be deciding what is and isn’t right. But based on whose opinion and what reasoning? Like it or not, you’re imposing your opinion on others or imposing others’ opinions on others! And that can be manipulated. While it’s not the same as making a pre-emptive strike, because you’re reacting to something that has been written, you are pandering to peoples’ prejudices, which patently are pre-formed and which thus do equate to a decision to impose one person’s view on another. To the detriment of the person who cannot answer their unseen accuser. And do you really think that you’re going to achieve much by your actions? How many blogs are there? Even the promoted ones? There must be tens of thousands now, so one person alone couldn’t hope to find one. And don’t we come back to the old argument of “Does TV make you bad?” (Yes, if you’re on Jerry Springer!). Without the propensity to argue or the ability to turn off, which is what most people would do were they so inclined and had a difference of opinion? No. Isn’t that what comments are for? And anonymous ones at that? I’m happy to engage in a debate with someone: I’ll learn something or they will (I hope) and then life will go on, as it does, regardless. If, for example, someone’s stupid enough to think that by the accident of birth, because someone’s been born in a country other than the antagonist’s this makes them …well, anything other than a national of that country (probably) then maybe they’re someone you’ll have difficulty debating with, but so what? It’s the question of WMDs again. You have to wait until someone throws the first punch (or you damn well know it’s coming and it’s a haymaker) before you can act. There’s a blog I’ve read that mentions that Floridians can now carry guns. If you don’t have the “They started it.” rule, you just get people with twitchy trigger fingers looking to obviate the false promise of their demise (or dead Brazilians, if you’re in London). Why can’t people do that (turn off or never return) with something that they see (and have been involved in looking for: blog links still need to be followed, don’t they?)? Or don’t you trust us to act rationally? Turning to the matter of antisocial behaviour, doesn’t that which is markedly and universally condemned and not accepted, simply not exist underground if there is sufficient call for it? Which is not to support it, but to suggest that some things might better be nullified by being in the public gaze. In England over the past few years there’s been a furore about a Muslim cleric called Abu Hamza. He apparently exhorts people to rise up against the West. Let him. Most Muslims ignore him, I believe. Of the few who do not, the question “Why do they not?” is most pertinent. After all, capitalism isn’t the perfect system, is it? But is that an excuse? We can consider the actions of the G7/8 in protecting their own interests at the expense of others as Bob Geldof made clear to those who weren’t previously aware before the summit near Edinburgh this year as part of the answer to this. Or we can just say “there’s no smoke without fire”. As for those who listen to him? I would think many can be reasoned with and might then not support him as they otherwise had (a hypothetical) and some. Some people you can’t reason with, regardless. But you’re removing them as they come to your attention, anyway! The point being that ideas die very quickly in a vacuum, but the space they inhabit is not electronic, but biological. This begs the question: how is it that these are made known? By the same method? Ok, but then we come back to the questions I had at the beginning of this over-long “rant”. And why can’t we, the blogging community which you have created, have some involvement in the extirpation of its ‘detritus’? Apathy will reign, I’m sure and then you can do your job anyway, but some people might want to have a say. Do you at least offer the courtesy to someone of saying they’ve been blacklisted and offer an appeal? Let’s face it, most blogs are reasonably personal and of little interest to any but a choice few so the personal community of that blog will remain unaffected. I wonder: what can you consider “offensive”? One of the most popular British films of all time started (so I believe) with the word “Fuck” being said 9 times (4 Weddings and a Funeral). Some would want to censor that. If someone’s stupid enough to spend their time filling electronic pages with invective, well…at least it keeps them off the streets and they’re not going brain-dead in front of the telly! Do you really want a society reminiscent of that in the “Steptford Wives” – i.e. no dissension? It is those things, those people at the radical fringes of society who drive it forward. The most-quoted and obvious example of someone having a view contrary to that held by the establishment is Galileo. I’m sure you know the argument, so I’ll say no more on that point. Not all things at the extremes do become normatised, and things do become modified as they become inculcated into the the mainstream of society; that being part of society’s function: to make that acceptable to the few acceptable (and accessible) to the many, but would you seek to “not promote” that which had the approval of the majority ? Then there’s the argument that creation is a complex chain of chance – maybe one idea in a person’s blog will spark off another and, and so on. I accept that this analysis is, in itself, simplistic as are all things that consider only a few of those factors that may/may not be relevant to a given situation, but this is not intended as an academic consideration of the subject of censorship. But while I could go on, if you haven’t got the idea by now…! So this time, could you please ATFQ and (maybe) justify yourselves to us (we concerned bloggers)? Thank you. p.s. as next to no-one reads my blog and they all think I’m barmy anyway, I personally have no concerns that anyone will even read it, but I would like to not be “not promoted”! p.p.s. a better initial answer would have obviated this….! p.p.p.s. Thanks for the anti-spam thingy you put in place (appreciated).

Peripatetic. It’s not an easy word to say.

Pure power: the core screams to escape itself.
You cannot speak but use the truth. And so the words fall and nestle on the ground in shapes untold as sight steals imagination.
I said something great today: What it was, I do not know, but it was an imagined future past and conditional. What is a mind to conceive such a thing?
Mordant - how I liked this word.
Run the race of youth impetuous.
Duty-bound to let you call my bluff. For what it is not I do not know, save I know a little of what is.
To set up moving dominoes to fall.

Fire discovered man and decided to play. Its fascination knew no bounds and so it gave it away.
How can you curse those who taught you the inane joy of laughter, the painful hiccough of the giggle, tickled from beneath your skin?
Myopia microscopic.
You want to play. It’s how you get to know life, but once you’ve learned you can only look back and know what it is you’ve missed.
To buy one’s freedom, what would prison gain? You force me out of hiding. Defeat digs deep.
((((((She hurt me too much: she was my friend.)))))
Smart. Clever is something altogether different.
Question: the power of the secretary.
Deny me my dreams for your avarice

Things that happen on a train journey

In no particular order.

Derren Brown.

Lists.

The posthumous marriage.

Omigosh! There's a foot growing from the floor.

God doesn't like competition.

Married women should be flirted with - they need it!

Reasons to emigrate #1: Abi Titmus.

Snap, chomping your way thru...(the air?)

Themes and tenuous connections.

Made of sun
I'm currently listening to a track with that name.
Isn't it great?!


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I reckon I've paid enough taxes to bring that day closer (death)

She's dirty in the brush, water, soap, if you don't do it, I will kind of way