Too Much To Declare

A day of sorting files, throwing away old solicitor and estate agent letters letters, unsatisfying nostalgia, records of out of date mortgages and bank accounts - shredding the bits that would indentify me to a crook in the re-cycling plant. 

I did find an assesment from an ocuupational psychologist, dated Decemer 1988, saying I had the makings of a brilliant businessman.

Am I in the middle of a dream? 

Over the years my knowledge of religion has become a bit rusty, but isn't 'talking to God' what used to be known as praying?

... but if you don't I will top myself
he said. What a drama queen.

If I die, think only this of me: there is some corner of a foreign field rancid with the stench of English male self-pity. it's your fault

My mother is becoming increasingly incoherent in her reasons for loathing the nurse/beauty therapist we have hired to look after her.  More incoherent, but more passionate in her hatred.  (She is furious with my sister for refusing to sack her straight away.  She is furious for my sister for not looking after her full time, with me in support on off days)

I suspect that , as far as mother is concerned, Maria's biggest failing is that she is a Phillipino.  An Asian who doesn't know her place.

Yesterday, aware that a few important e-mails I was expecting hadn't arrived, I sent a mail to myself so I could check the system was working.

Has anyone got a sensible, rational explanation?

In exactly a month's time, at two in the afternoon, I will no longer own this house.  I have delayed completing the sale once, but no further postponement is likely to be agreed by the Purchaser.

Dear Agony Aunt,
What can I do about it?

i often - no sometimes, no only perhaps tonight
i wonder if she ever reads these words,
if there's anything i could say
to woo her.
not of course flattery,
for that would be insulting.
but an insight, a paradox
a curuscating firework that she'd like.

but i have none of these words now.
there are only other's words
cruel, raging, ragging, ragged
voices in my skull
swarming
announcing the things I must do
which have nothing to do with eloquence
reproaching pain
defeat gleefully predicted
accountancy
self recrimination
passed on
a bastard heirloom of a frustrated puritan
(and that line doesn't read right)

i often ( sometimes...) wonder why,
she matters to me
why i care to care
and it must be
because she doesn't care at all
the challenge
the hopeless quest -
the best.

A first jab at a poetic truth, combined with a shopping list

I chose a new safety razor
A fresh shower gel
A Tesco-brand lightbulb,
The queue to wait in to pay.
I chose to write this.
I will never choose to grow old.

It's against nature - but it also happend in January last year.

It's all because of the Russian doctor. The parasistes are making ready to leave, apparently.  I'm too tired to explain.

Collateral

I like its unexpectedness.  Even my breathing, I am told, has consequencies I will not know about,

Time was
When my dad was made of sugar.
Time came
When I didn’t want to taste

Today, my mother's felt like a madhouse.  Her mixture of memory loss and desperate need to control, attempts at high mindiness, belief that she's getting better (she talked to me about driving again soon), utter pettiness and unbelievable meanness about money- coupled with her - not to to avoid the truth - racist atttitude to her new Phililpino carer (who my sister feels blackmailed into sacking...  to be replaced by... my sister)

It horrendous... I've spent an hour talking about it on the phone to my sister and my mum's sister.. and I can't bring myself to write about the details, or indeed anything else - for now.

..unless I leave NOW.  My mother needs to be taken the dentist.

more later

How I miss having someone to love.

( oh, I know we are told we should love ourselves, but that's different, isn't it?)

"If a cluttered desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, of what then is an empty desk?" - Albert Einstein

"Dylan got away with murder.  I thought, I can write this crap too." - John Lennon

There - I have written it down.  Maybe it will come back immediately - it's like that, perverse little bastard.

good-bye

Has anyone else had Comments and links from an idiot called Swami Lord Collins?

After I wiped his links to his Yoga site, appended irrelevantly to an 8 months old post, he has turned his hand to literary criticism:

Amanda couldn't be bothered to do anything about it until she noticed her supervisor had been watching him, too.

"Mrs Carruthers," Amanda called out - usually she called her supervisor Julie.  "Mrs Carruthers, this - customer has got an Uplift Bra stuffed down his shirt."

Certain recent items have been deleted from this site, through a process of Retrospective Quality Control

60 years ago this month I was listening to radio comedy programme.

da lewerky flaat, da flarska dort, da veldya soptan -
cas veldyi szom dranic?
na, blorky, blorky

- semel tals dorta (1848 - 1911)

"Did you have therapy today?" msphullfat asked me.  It's the first time we'd spoken for ages, and we have been trying to get in touch.

PS she also told me about the Manchester blogmeet, and gave me the lowdown on R...... and M.... and B.... (you know who you are).  She also claimed that safriz was extremely attractive... and... (I'm such a nice guy, saf, I will not finish the sentence)

"...The child of a depressed mother will struggle with self-esteem throughout its life. This will be the outcome of this particular origin - poor stimulation when the social brain of the child was forming. The child got used to a lack of concern for its well-being, and expects nothing more thereafter.

Or again, see the child who grows up refusing to allow anger against its parent.  The anger they feel inside is reckoned by them to be unacceptable, and is therefore denied.  Such people will be those who forever feel guilty.  They will turn the unexpressed anger in on themselves, and experience feelings of guilt.  A pattern of guilt in a life is almost always the result of repressed anger..."

- The Beautiful Life by Simon Parke, Bloomsbury Books

Rejoice at the export earnings!  Rejoice at the fun!  Three cheers for the National Genius!

More than half the Reality TV formats used all over the world were devised in the U.K.

This afternoon, I was just getting ready for a session of gentle blogging when someone phoned who I haven't spoken to for 15 years.  She "happened to be in Hammersmith."  I agreed to meet her in the bar of the Riverside.

Don't know what I feel - except emotionally drained.

Of course, he was illegally elected in the first place.  Still, some praise is due - to the U.S.Constitution.  In exactly a year today, George Dubya Bush ceases to be President of the United States.


Next time round, who will the Supreme Court appoint?

Of course I've lost the instruction booklet...

is written on this language you don't understand?

sometimes I'm more awake this time of (GMT) night than any other time of day

(too late, someone has just left an interesting comment)