Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Drawing blanks
It has taken me twenty years to realise the value of doing nothing. I shall endeavour to spend some quality time this summer ... doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not easy, you know. Not easy at all.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Cute?
Some kind soul posted a comment on the posting 'Los Angeles to Mosul for 140' - it's been about 10 years since I was last called that and - boy does it feel good... Jason the little munchkin...a stodgy, podgy, inky-dinky plippety-ploppety happy blobby cutey-pie with not a care in the world. Like a jolly pork pie just before he gets eaten!
Friday, April 14, 2006
Saturday Lamentation
I canter between the posts of buoyant optimism and bleak pessimism at the whim of the wind. It's awful to be pinballed like that, knowing that just as you reach the next marker all you have to look forward to is the fleeting sensation of something you'll forget before you could even wonder what had just happened.
Over the years I have come to realise something terrible. It has turned life into one long, sick, disgusting parody of a prisoner's worst nightmare.
I call it the 'downhill slide.' Each moment is the best moment of the rest of your life. Every passing second is better than the one following it because life is simply a downhill slide into oblivion and impending doom. As each day gets worse and worse, the realisation that each passing moment is better than the one following it becomes stronger and stronger. Nevertheless, a person's outlook on life can follow different patterns. Either:
You dread the next day, knowing that whatever the future holds, it can only get worse.
OR...
Paradoxically, you live each moment gleefully acknowledging that it is the best you're ever going to have.
Perhaps it doesn't make much difference because either way, each night one silently prays to have a really massive subarachnoid haemorrhage and not have to wake up the next morning.
Carpe diem, etc. You begin to die the second you're born, etc. D'oh. Whichever way you picture it, I think it's a cruel joke that a human being has to plumb the depths of despair to find some reason to make the most of each passing second of this moribund existence to which we're sentenced.
A good shot of diazepam would be very welcome right now.
Over the years I have come to realise something terrible. It has turned life into one long, sick, disgusting parody of a prisoner's worst nightmare.
I call it the 'downhill slide.' Each moment is the best moment of the rest of your life. Every passing second is better than the one following it because life is simply a downhill slide into oblivion and impending doom. As each day gets worse and worse, the realisation that each passing moment is better than the one following it becomes stronger and stronger. Nevertheless, a person's outlook on life can follow different patterns. Either:
You dread the next day, knowing that whatever the future holds, it can only get worse.
OR...
Paradoxically, you live each moment gleefully acknowledging that it is the best you're ever going to have.
Perhaps it doesn't make much difference because either way, each night one silently prays to have a really massive subarachnoid haemorrhage and not have to wake up the next morning.
Carpe diem, etc. You begin to die the second you're born, etc. D'oh. Whichever way you picture it, I think it's a cruel joke that a human being has to plumb the depths of despair to find some reason to make the most of each passing second of this moribund existence to which we're sentenced.
A good shot of diazepam would be very welcome right now.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Los Angeles to Mosul for 140
Well, there you have it. Four rounds and a knockout.
It was fun while it lasted. I hope that's true for other things, too.
It was fun while it lasted. I hope that's true for other things, too.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
78-75 Blindspots
I saw the cherry blossoms on Thursday and a few green leaves on Saturday. Spring has come.
I have reached the terminal phase of this odd stage of life but the rate at which the days fly past makes it difficult to stop and smell the roses. Before you know what's happened - it's over. A cliched revelation that has to be experienced. You look backwards at your own peril; it's so easy to trip over the stepping stones of tomorrow. Rather like reversing around a bend.
Empty patches demand a faith and persistence to bridge those gaping chasms we face from time to time. Amidst the emptiness we somehow have to stand firm and not be bowled over when the strong winds of uncertainty blow.
I have reached the terminal phase of this odd stage of life but the rate at which the days fly past makes it difficult to stop and smell the roses. Before you know what's happened - it's over. A cliched revelation that has to be experienced. You look backwards at your own peril; it's so easy to trip over the stepping stones of tomorrow. Rather like reversing around a bend.
Empty patches demand a faith and persistence to bridge those gaping chasms we face from time to time. Amidst the emptiness we somehow have to stand firm and not be bowled over when the strong winds of uncertainty blow.
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