a piece of heartfelt light verse - audio

the process of aging?

So, it's come to this; old age has got me firmly in its grasp and, I lack the stamina to even attempt to wriggle free!Recent weeks have borne witness to a severe deterioration in my sense of dutiful pride. My old familiar shattering aches, pains and nauseating sense of exhaustion has driven me to .... ! 

Pride still has a hold, on me, as I struggle to prevent the awful truth being broadcast far and wide but, it's no point trying to live a double life, the strain is just too great.

The honest truth is that I've been driven to watching daytime TV and, all I plead for is a little sympathetic understanding! 'Bargain Hunt', 'Doctors', and re-runs of 'Only Fools and Horses' have managed to fill the aching void of inactivity with a modicum of determined purpose. If I can't work up the enthusiasm, or find the necessary energy reserves to purposefully surf the net, tend the garden etc.; at least the vacuum can be filled by my determination to switch on the television over the lunchtime period, starting from a period frequently less than one hour after my emergence from the duvet realm.

The truly worrying factor is that, not infrequently, I'm actually enjoying the viewing experience.

Since last Christmas, I seemed to have had some of my appetite for reading restored, politics, biography, theology, as well as a modicum of fiction once more became a part my daily experience but, for the past few weeks, my stamina reserves have only allowed (primarily superficial) casual browsing. I tend to place some of the blame on the warmer weather, which has a knack of depleting my already limited reserves of stamina but, I can't help wondering if in fact the real culprit is Father Time.

Casual Listening

As my beloved chauffered me home, from making a bulk purchase of wild bird food, Radio 4 twittered away as an accompaniment to our journey. One item was about taboos surrounding organ donation, the following item concerned the ubiquity of flip-flops from some kind of anthropological / sociological perspective.

From the latter item, I gathered that flip-flops go back to the beginning of time. A wonderful image of Dinosaurs wearing flip-flops immediately sprang to mind, even though (judging by context) the speaker obviously considered that time only began when the pyramids were constructed!

From the chatter about organ donation I gathered that almost all of our prejudices and taboos can be traced back to a certain Anne Sesstry. At least that should remove a lot of the burden from Eve!

28 October 2009

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a freshly minted poem, GARDENING IN AUTUMN, can be found on 'Mal's Factory'.

Time Consumption

It's just so amazing how time-consuming doing nothing can be! Actually, when one takes account, it's remarkable how much one actually gets done whilst they think they're doing nothing; cooking a few meals, pottering around the garden, creating a new website and modifying the old, writing a couple of poems, feeding the fish. Quite frankly, I'm surprised that I found the time to do all that in the midst of doing nowt!

Geocities having given up their free hosting service, Webring very kindly transferred my original Geocities site to their free hosting space. Bravenet have now decided to go the same way - in their case limiting the amount of webspace to 5MB. As I have several free sites on Bravenet, (Mal's Paintings, HelMals Garden, HelMals Bravehost, Mals Poetry etc.), it seemed easier to pay up and keep them all online, as well as setting up a revamped version of our Luv4Sinners site on my very own domain (that's something I've never bothered with before). New Luv4Sinners.

Due to my usual impatience, I can't promise that everything's done right and, having prepared the new site on my laptop I (at last moment) discovered that the display was hopeless on Internet Explorer even though it displayed correctly on Firefox so, adjustments were called for and, I suddenly found the situation had reversed. Minor irregularities apart, I decided it was time to upload the site, utilizing my very own domain, as it was. I'm quite fond of its home-made appeal anyway, I'm too busy to await perfection. You can tell that it was done on the hoof as one or two individual pages would have been better placed in the relevant section but, I had to hurry back to my busy doing nothing phase; just as well it's not a commercial venture!

As I've been so busy doing nothing this posting may appear on another blog as well (different readerships you know, but this site is the most select!).

Frivolously Serious

All Fall Down - what's to become of us?

I'm becoming increasingly concerned about goings on at the Palace of Westminster and, especially, the forthcoming proposals to rid the house of corrupt politicians. It's truly worrying when I think about it, getting rid of corrupt MP's.

After all, if we get rid of all the corrupt politicians there'll be nobody in the house who understands standard business and commercial practises!

Pronghorn evolution : a matter of fact?

The voiceover tells us, matter-of-factly, that the Pronghorn evolved to outrun the now extinct American Cheetah [Yellowstone - BBC2]! How do they know? Surely this is hypothesis rather than fact; isn't it possible that the Cheetah failed to evolve fast enough to be able to catch the "fastest antelope in the world" or to vary its dietary requirement to devour other fauna in the region? Presumably, long before it became extinct, this species of Cheetah had occasionally found something to feed on!

Dichotomy - IAIYH

I've just had a Damascene conversion; I now realize that this ME thing is all in my head.

My head keeps telling me that I ought to be able to do things (after all six or seven years ago it was no problem!). Of course, my body tells me in a most excruciating manner that I'm not able to do those things. The head starts grieving for the limitations of the body, the restrictions on any socializing that I used to enjoy etc.; so I try to exert myself a little more, the effects a couple of days later are devastating.

There must be something wrong with my head, it has the false belief that I ought to be able to manage these things!

Suddenly the remembrance, from long ago days when I studied philosophy, you can't derive an "ought" from an "is". Then I knew that my head was wrong, it's just a bad philosopher. I may still have ME but, I'm not going to let my head make me feel guilty about it!

Co-incidentally ...

Having been told by my GP, on Friday, that I had to give up caffeine, I came across an interesting article in one of my beloved's magazines (whilst sat in the loo) this afternoon. Certain words leapt out at me, especially where it referred to the beneficial flavenoids to be found in tea and coffee. This on top of the references to caffeine in last evening's Garrison Keillor's Radio Show (referred to in my beloved's posting on Bright Light).

My life is certainly rich in co-incidence at the present time!

Sonic Vibrations

Disrobed and prepared, time hangs slowly, waiting to enter the unknown zone.

The first bit’s nice, lie down, head on the pillow; a pillow propping up the knees to ensure optimum stability and comfort, alleviates my anxiety regarding maintaining stillness for the duration. Headphones firmly clamped in place, emergency / panic button placed at ones fingertips and it’s all systems go. Just a last check to make sure one’s arms are well tucked in, before the slide into the cylinder begins.

Curiosity takes over and, I’m desperate to know how light or dark it’ going to be in the belly of the machine. As it turns out to be light, next decision to be made is do I close my eyes or leave them open; the awareness that its light also enables one to be fully aware of just what a confined space they are within. Close the eyes and this restraint has gone; there could be all the space in the world out there so, what’s the worry? To my surprise there are no worries at all, nor is there any real awareness of time.

The soundscape is rather like an avant-garde techno-trance experiment. What’s lacking in the drum and bass field is more than compensated for by the healthy bass balance in all the proffered sounds, bass, treble or mid-range. To my ears, this random array of note clusters strikes me as quite tonal, a remarkable absence of discomforting dissonance.

It’s virtually impossible to apply any regular time signature to this precocious rhythmical melody; at times one is aware of the absence of note-clusters, a blanketed industrial washing machine being heard some distance off, before the music begins again.

Following on from this excursion, to a rather exclusive little music club, my GP will be informed of the results of my MRI scan within two weeks.

Who Knows ... ?

Who knows where the time goes? Is it a song, is it a bird or, is it quite simply a statement of my reality? Truth be told, I love the song but, even more, I find myself wondering exactly where it does go! Strange how it sounds like either a metaphysical or a pure physics question.

 

Where once I regularly managed, or indeed needed to, post a blog entry every day, in these days of idleness it’s often difficult to find the space in my non-routine to fit it in. Sometimes, I’m quite amazed that I manage to get anything done; day-dreaming proves such a time consuming occupation!

 

My thoughts often turn to serious issues like how a military force that moves in defence of a brutally repressed separatist movement in Eastern Europe (think South Ossetia) can be considered wrong, as it thwarts the goal of an American educated and supported President with an army partly American trained, whilst the people who offer such condemnation think nothing of slaughtering innocent Iraqis in the course of perpetrating an illegal war! Issues of sovereignty suddenly loom large. Sadly, when the big boys play their self-interested games, it’s always the innocents that suffer most.

 

When it comes to politics, there seems to be little room for morality. There was a time when I was a truly political animal, it served to take the place of the evangelical religious faith I had recently rejected owing to its reactionary asocial outlook. Even then though, I was a creature of contradictions, a would-be pacifist longing to man the barricades in the cause of social justice, a pothead serving a puritanical Trotskyite sect, a Buddhist clinging to the material world.

 

This isn’t the post I sat down to write but, who knows where the words flow?

Houdini's Release

Houdini, the uninvited furry house guest, on his fifth trick failed to escape. This morning, very early by my standards, I ventured up to the wild area of the garden, live-capture mousetrap in hand and, released the charmed little critter into the undergrowth.

The Houdini title was well-earned, although I suspect his first visit (to) and escape (from) the trap owed more to the friction of the floor covering than the meeces innate skill. On that occasion the door failed to click into place and, young Houdini beat a hasty retreat. On another occasion he managed to tip the trap onto its side, thus enabling easy access to the lure bait, of which not a single trace was left.

Two further times, the little ‘un visited the trap and, managed to evade capture. Last night, shortly after we’d retired to bed, I decided to create my own live capture trap. No use contemplating sleep when my mind’s buzzing so, having donned dressing gowns, ma belle et moi, returned downstairs to bring this idea to fruition. Of course, it was far from easy to work out the best positional strategy for the new creation. Our discourse on this matter proved quite hilarious, even the proposition that little H could climb up onto the arm chair and dive down, as if from the high board, to sample the delights nestling far beneath the one way opening seemed almost plausible.

My beloved muttered, within presumed earshot of the little critter, “don’t you realize we’re trying to save you. We don’t really want to bring in capital punishment!” We duly positioned the new device, in close proximity to the original live trap, and bade our unwelcome house guest “good night”.

Come early morning, young Houdini, obviously regretting the discomfort he was causing his human friends, surrendered him self to the lure of the original live-capture trap.

Having released H into the wild, we decided to err on the side of caution and, once again baited a couple of the humane traps, just in case our guest had invited more of his friends to enjoy our domestic domain.

A PAIN IN THE ....

It’s only when I sit a certain way. Correction; it’s sometimes when I’m sitting still, at other times when I shuffle my bum to the back of the chair. Truth be told, it’s worse when I lean forward, to put something down, from a seated position except, when I stand up and reach for something it’s sometimes even more of a pain. Come to think of it, it could be when I take a sudden step forward; at least that’s when it causes my leg to fold on me and I lose my balance.

Who am I trying to kid; all I really need is plenty of fresh distractions, that way my awareness of it would simply dissipate.

A few minutes ago, whilst standing by the kitchen door, it suddenly attacked again! A searing pain shoots through my thigh but, unlike sciatica, there’s no apparent reference back or forwards from the hips or spine, nor is there any downwards extension through to the calf muscles. All is (apparently) encapsulated within the rear of the thigh. The physio suspects that it’s a nerve problem.

Pain-killers hardly touch it, but then, how would I know if they were being effective? It’s the brutally spasmodic, crippling, lightning flash that’s the real pain; there have actually been periods today, of almost 20 minutes duration, when I’ve not been startled by it. Meantime, a manageable dull bruising throb is much easier to ignore than the staccato stabbing.

My diagnosis is that “it’s a real pain!”

If only it wasn’t such a discomforting thought, I could add that “at least it keeps me on my toes!”

La Rue des Invalides

Have you ever tried walking down the High Street whilst attempting to clasp a tennis ball between your upper thighs? That’s exactly what it felt like as I ventured out to the local bakery this morning and, I could have done with a pair of reversible knee joints to hasten my errand. Any attempt to modestly stride out seemed to return the back muscles to the state of spasm which started yesterday afternoon. A combination of Co-codamol and externally applied Ibuprofen gel helped me to get a reasonable night’s sleep but, getting dressed this morning seemed a terribly arduous process.

Our homestead feels like a regular maison des invalides, as my beloved has had to return home from work with sundry flu-like ailments, a general feeling of nausea now accompanying the chest infection which has been honking its presence for the past few days. The nurse, at the practise where Helen works, thought it a bit odd that ma belle should need to wear an overcoat in the office, a classic case of burning up and feeling cold. When ma belle is off her food there’s definitely something wrong and, this morning she’s even finding it difficult to drink – that pervasive sense of nausea has much to answer for.

Meantime, my younger (step-) daughter, who lives just around the corner from us, has been and still is struggling against a host of virulent bugs. Perhaps a quarantine order needs to be applied in these parts. Ironically enough, the town which we are privileged to inhabit was once a celebrated Health Spa! Still, I suppose that means it’s used to having a lot of old crocks in residence.

A Question of Moral Authority

PARLIAMENTARY GOBBLEDEGOOK – THE QUESTION OF MORAL AUTHORITY


So, David Cameron (Conservative – leader of the opposition) accuses Gordon Brown (Labour – Prime Minister) of lacking any political or moral authority.

The main points for arriving at this conclusion seem to be that

i) GB failed to call an election, which DC thought he may have a chance of winning (political authority)
ii) GB stole, and put into practise, Tory (Conservatives) policies.(moral authority)

As far as I can see, this means he lacks political and moral authority because

a) He wouldn’t give the Tories an early chance to ruin the country
or
b) He lacks moral authority because he practises Tory policies.

This would seem to be a very strange accusation. Presumably, DC believes he occupies the moral high ground because politics is simply a means to further his career; obviously he doesn’t believe his own policies would be good for the country, otherwise he would applaud the PM for implementing them, feeling flattered that the PM should consider them worthy of theft! He fails to recognize that GB saved the country the expense of an unnecessary election which would have simply been about which "window-dresser" gains the prize.

Since the advent of Blairite Thatcherism we’ve been stuck with two Tory parties to choose from. I can only assume that all aspiring candidates should choose their party on the basis of whom they believe will best advance their political career. (Stuff the country – what about my job!)


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A further blog posting for today, K...K...K...K...Katie, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Congratulations Sir Terry

So, Sir Terence of Wogan has been voted the BBC Radio2 Ultimate Icon of the past forty years

And some people have the gall to accuse the media of dumbing down?

Makes you think.

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For those of you beyond our islands shoreline, I should point out that without the presence of Sir Terry the world would be a place in which we encountered wars, terrorist threats, inequalities, floods …. indeed the list is endless.

Had Wogan not been grasped from the very jaws of Radio Telefís Éireann then we would all probably have no idea that such greatness could exist this side of heaven.

Backfiring

Just pop your can in here (picture of a recycle bin) and, in six weeks it could be part of an aeroplane or a car! So goes the TV advert.

Up to this time I was all in favour of recycling but now, I’m really concerned about it. The advert makes it seem as if the whole point of recycling is to more swiftly produce pollution producing machines.

We already have far too many automobiles and aircraft destroying the environment and, I see no reason that I should help the manufacturers of such machines utilize what I’ve given away to create further health hazards!

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Tonight I seriously considered going paper-free, in terms of bank statements, only to find repeated warnings that you should print off your own copies. As far as I can see, the banks simply want to optimize their obscenely gargantuan profits by saving on the printing and postage costs of sending out statements to their customers. It may seem like a good idea to let the customer use their own electricity, paper and printing ink to save a hard copy of their transaction record – definitely not for the benefit of the consumer.

Ain't like what it used to be!

As Heterocon has already reported "recent days" and "recent daze" are now to be seen as synonymous! Still, I manfully struggle on, not that I've really got any option ... but is it really I ... or, to quote some French poet, am I simply "a trumpet blown by another". Oh the nostalgic joy of that slight trip into my bohemian days/daze!

The media player blasts out something about .. "love is all you need" and I'm thrust back into the days of my return from section-dom into the real world ... heading on for three decades now ... how I yearn, how I yearn! Cliched as the saying may be, I do feel it's a shame that youth is wasted on the young.

It's strange, the voice ex-machina now proclaims " I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello"... are the days of such profundity really gone forever. Lady Madonna certainly doesn't think so. Thanks for those number one hits lads!

A Touch Of The Numinous?

Do you ever get the feeling the fates are conspiring against you? Admittedly, for some fortunate creatures such as myself it's not too major a problem; but ... it's sometimes just the odd little niggle that starts the process of suspicion.

Today, this happened to my alter-ego Heterocon who, on several occasions attempted to access his blog only to find it being either "upgraded" or "updated"; unfortunately the distress was so great that even now he's afraid to carry out a further check on the current status! How fortunate were the earlier generations who never had to face such trauma.

So deep was the distress caused by these instances that, even now, he feels unable to share with me the profundity of the text he intended to inscribe upon that sacred space. This truly is a case of the "mysterium tremendum et fascinans", the numinous quality possessed by web-servers; one can only bow down in the presence of such transcendental forces.

Perhaps my dear Heterocon will soon be revitalized and enabled, either in person or through Sinna Luvva's humble service as his amanuensis, to scribe once more his "Broad Thoughts"upon the space of msn!