Painful And Joyous Reading (2)

Short-lived miracle indeed – hah! – only ‘Going Postal’ was
a delight, but 'When She Was Good’ by Norma Fox Mazer
is not my style, I dislike the voice of the protagonist and her
dead sister Pamela even less; ‘Faith, Hope and Ivy June’ by
Phyllis Reynolds Naylor just reminds why teenagers are best
kept at arm’s length
 
‘Briar Rose’ by Jane Yolen is even worse; a female author
telling the reader what brand of boots and clothes are worn
by her characters – overcoming the obstacle of obnoxious
style in order to get at the story does not appeal to me, I shall
return these to the library and stick to Graham Hancock’s
research, no need to put up with inane conversations
 
Most frustrating my eyes are out of focus again, first wear
multifocals at an angle of 45 degrees from my eyebrows and
when sinking down against the pillows change the angle to 45
degrees from my nose, no use to read some more tonight, it is
too difficult when I can’t see, best is try and fall asleep to start
a great book tomorrow – today is gone  

Painful And Joyous Reading (1)

The library is open, a miracle happened because I found several

titles interesting whereas normally everything seems boring, I’m
courageous enough to tackle ‘Briar Rose’ about the Second World
War and sisters fighting in ‘When She Was Good’ hoping to find
insight into my relationship with my twin sis, I’m ready to face
abandonment in Lynne Markham’s ‘Getting It Right’ and two lives
intertwined in ‘Faith, Hope and Ivy June’ – being adventurous I also
bought two  books at second hand shops – Graham Hancock’s
Underworld  - Flooded Kingdoms of the Ice Age – blazing trails
where even unconventional Colin Wilson fears to tread, and ‘The
Mars Mystery’ because I love the theme of precession and the
solar system’s orbit and carousel movement about the Milky
Way Galaxy’s Black Hole centre – hours of painful and joyous
reading before me – now I have entered the spirit of this holiday!

Diary Notes 31 May 2012

Finally the magic woven by Terry Pratchett in ‘Going Postal’ took
my mind like a wave invading every lonely space, filling me with a
sense of delight and the desire to keep on digging for meaning –
since I cannot be content with the mere fact that I exist in the way
Golems can, I have to assign meaning to everything in order to
prevent my inner self turning from quiet and calm into a raging
torrent of existential  uncertainty & my spirit from acquiring a
waiflike quality, moving between consciousness states, too
confused to choose between moments of being to settle
down long enough to feel the delight of existence
as escape from non-being…
 
'Going Postal’ works perfectly, it took a while to drag my mind
away from the feeling of guilt about  this holiday and concomitant
fear – suspecting that a short escape from robotic existence at the
office might corrupt my heart to again develop a passionate longing
for freedom; feeling confident enough to skip over disturbing passages
about Reacher Gilt as I hate his guts – then found this passage last night
which has me in stiches as making fun of self-aggrandising philosophy
while pointing out universal truths behind it; is one of the more
fabulous aspects of Pratchett’s writing:
 
p.78 – ”Freidegger, in Modal Contextities, claims all freedom is
limited… true freedom… overwhelms the soul… like the state
he describes as Vonallesvolkommenunverstandlichdasdaskeit.”
 
I surmise it is Heidegger  - Dasein as well as Ding-an-sich – who is targeted
here while Emmanual Kant’s modalities – the organising principles we assign
to reality –  are likewise concerned – what an excellent mind Pratchett assigns
to Lord Vetinari  - a character I love especially as I share some of his traits –
I also love ideas as Platonic principles: Vetinari loves music as signet ideals,
staves on paper and clean notes safely ensconced thereon with no attempt
at execution to spoil its pristine beauty – just as I adore the idea of romance
as an ethereal ideal formulated in enchanting WORDS but NOT the attempt
at execution which always falls short of the ideal changing it into a hopeless
Don Quixotic longing for the impossible…
 
Going Postal - Terry Pratchett – Doubleday 2004
Quoted from p.78

Genetically Modified Futures

http://igorevich.blogspot.com.au/2008/07/better-citizen.html

Everyday Like This

I love the ritual preparing a meat dish
a rib roll, you’re making a treat, I delight
in the activity while green leaves outside
reflect the golden sunshine - but when
we have a preliminary tasting session
 
Trying onions and mushrooms, again it
becomes crystal clear why I cannot excel
as a cook - fat saturating the dish of beef,
my digestion already up in arms; but what
fun as we congregate in the kitchen
 
Tiaan a mime imitating my typing, scribbling
in Nici’s notebook while you run in and out
checking the meat, moments of thoughtless
joy, laughter rippling along rays of sunshine –
wish everyday could be like this…
 

Grey Shrivelled Spheres

Lost my respect for dangerous foodstuffs
eating anything, now my mind is like a lift
stuck between two lower levels, unable to
reach rock-bottom yet not ascending again

Between levels all is desultory – vague and
far-off, receding to a series of grey shrivelled
spheres mocking the lovely pearls reflecting
each other in Indra’s holographic heaven

You watched rugby and cricket, channel-hop-
ping to catch glimpses of both; I floated about
like a forlorn ghost or a transparent spectre
lost on the seas of life - trying to translate

But if a book failed to hold my interest, how
could a boring, useless letter from irate tax-
payers focus my scattered thoughts or re-
store my sagging, short-circuiting brain?

It started to rain, totally unexpected, a gift,
making me wish for the ability to feel and
live again, death by allergy à la Agatha
Christie does not hold any appeal

Brain Without Orientation (Revised)

Quite content with my lot having finished
Rob Parsons ‘The Heart of Success , Making
it in Business without Losing in Life’ – given
my shortcomings and limitations, and
specifically, the allergy
 
I couldn’t have lived a self-absorbed creator’s
passionate life, but I’m delighted to do
assembly-line translation for Government
departments, achieving the most important
goal: happy relationships;
 
My nuclear family is kindness itself – poet
brother a wise mentor who safeguards my
mental health, my twin sister much happier
now that her dreams are fulfilled – in short,
life’s improving
 
Though phenomenological Zen-Buddhist
existence is impossible due to the allergy
I love reading and music – my routine job
entails challenging research, I might not
deserve merit but everything’s significant
 
Falling into black holes and nihilism of life’s
emotional roller-coaster yet I’m lucky,
content, my colleagues are wise angels
teaching me to concentrate daily, what
more could I ask, given my beginning as
 
A brain without orientation?

Thank You For Letting Me Die

Reading Rob Parsons ‘The Heart of Success –
Making it in Business without Losing in Life’ I grew
agitated, the author explained people should be
encouraged to use their special gift in the workplace

I lamented again because being a translator is a
strong attempt to strangle myself, to destroy emotion
and imagination and change my basic character until
I resemble a robot, good for nothing and almost dead

Then you reminded me again that with the allergy I
am in a mental wheelchair, while others sprint ahead
and cross the finishing line I haven’t even started yet,
that I’m like a person born blind, have never felt

What it is like to enjoy the wonder of vision – in my case,
the wonder of quiet routine intelligence – with my IQ
fluctuating madly and my emotions out of control – the
only way for me to live the life of a normal person is

By dying unto myself and I ought to congratulate myself,
I think I am dead – I should be SO PROUD – thank you
for letting me die without spilling a single drop of blood!

Friday 27 April 2012

Ready To Explode

Wanted to share my feelings, tell someone
how I felt and you were the only one about
but as I did so you got angry, why, what did
I expect you to do - you growled - growing
angry already - nothing, I sighed - wanted
to get this off my chest but since you can-
not deal with it, total change of plans
 
No more confidence; what is for dinner, what
on TV, how are you doing, isn’t it great when
the sun shows a few rays – the feelings will
have to wait until I am alone, self-pity will re-
lieve the shock caused by the ball-bearings
in my brain just snapping like that, I need
to unload the heartache - to become
 
The calm quiet person I am required to be;
I shall let off steam by crying into the soap-
suds and describing my feelings on paper
yet impossible being embarrassed about
illegal feelings; only self-confidence is
allowed to exist, all else resembles a
landmine ready to explode

A Terrible Grey Day

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday – this is such a terrible grey day!

Cannot get back all the bits and pieces of my mind that scattered

last night in menacing dreams, why should the Humpty Dumpty

effect take place during the night and leave me bereft on a cold,

grey morning without the sunshine that normally puts my

world together again?

Though the excessively grey sky looks threatening and ominous, it

carries a promise of rainfall and we need it so much; yesterday out

for a stroll a low sky without blue and sunshine made me feel hemmed

in and the conversation never got off, I remember a program on

Deutsche Welle, a little girl waking up screaming, crying

Her foot swollen beyond recognition, the shock, Knochenarzt, another

little girl who had lost her leg in a tractor incident, how to deal with it -

need to delete these images from a mind that cannot understand why

these things were allowed to happen – there is such a thing as free-

dom – but why should it lead to these kinds of accidents…

Luckily hot coffee and Ivan’s poem “No Heroes To A Man” http://igorevich.blogspot.com.au/2006/11/no-heroes-to-man-these-bruised-and.html saved me temporarily…

Changed So Wondrously

Amazing how unique and individual we are, how the colour of

glasses we wear - the way we see the world determine what we

see, how we focus on it, what we derive from it, how negative or

positive we use it; how we gossip about those who differ from us

Some amazing souls seem to derive beauty and comfort from

events that make me run away while others seem to hate the

wonderful ideas that make me inflate and rise above my own

self until my spirit is high in the clouds

Some people manage to change EVERYTHING they come

across into a terrible, scary experience while others seem to

find uplifting ideas in the meanest occurrence; I have tried

shifting my focus to look at all viewpoints at once –

And came to the conclusion the best experience is to imitate

positive people & inspiring ideas as negative experiences and

ideas come all by themselves without encouragement – a

dream can be crushed by simply revealing it

Having others destroy it with their opinions – I treasure and

guard gloriously fragile ideas, try to find those whose minds

predispose them to see life in a positive light - I respect and

honour cynical people, am frequently depressed myself

But since focusing on it simply worsens all problems, I change

mental gears manually and keep going in the direction of the sun

on the horizon, no matter how dark my life and how determined

people to indoctrinate me to see how bad things can seem

This is the only way to lift off and change things - and my life

has changed so wondrously since I have followed the policy

of reaching for the light like a flower following the sun…

Tuesday 24 April 2012

What a Waste

I had SUCH great plans for tonight
I felt so inspired and bright - ready
to explain more theories to myself
all came to naught as gastronomy
came between me and my design
 
Having coffee and crème caramel
not a good idea, we felt so festive
I indulged trusting mild discomfort
would not upset the applecart, but
now I am stuck, can’t concentrate
bad backache keeping me awake

Physical existence is supposed to
be true reflection of mental events
which means a reaction to food is
supposed to teach me something
about my emotional incompetence
to deal with the world as it is, even

my favourite pastime, dreaming, is
inaccessible - although I have  an
official document - I lack the skill
to start translating, what a waste…

Alive In Our Minds

Yes we dream - but instead of lamenting the fact that

we can only realise a few of the things we dream about

in physical life while the rest has no place in our 3-D

reality because of conflicting interests and people’s

freedom to make all kinds of decisions –

I look at the lovely multidimensional quality dreams give

to reality;  sometimes I cry after reading a GOOD book

because it is not real, it is fiction, just a story, an ideal -

but then the stories go on living in my heart and mind

and enrich my life in material reality

I decided to treat dreams in the same way – instead of

giving up dreaming as most people do because they

cannot fulfill their dreams, I regard dreams as wonderful

alternatives enriching the thin line of sensory reality and

creating spiritual realms reaching into eternity

Of course we cannot live all our dreams – but we can write

them down, savour them in our mind, enjoy elaborating

them - just as we do good books and poetry - we have

unlimited freedom in the mind to make spiritual and mental

realms as wide and big as we like

Nobody can stop the stories growing in my mind, weaving

thought-forms that entice and bemuse and delight – and so

giving us power to tackle the thin 3-D reality with all its duties

– while the whole of infinity and eternity is alive in our minds!

Accomplish By Myself

Wish I could calm down my brain, I

can manually change, but my mind

automatically returns to depression

and pain when situations change

I try to remember the benevolence

of our wonderful universe fostering

all forms of life, even mine; yet as

soon as a challenge of boredom -

The result of human beings forcing

themselves to do things that should

not exist like being immobile and

useless - presents, I get angry

And being helpless, depressed - it

seems changing the attitude in my

brain ought to change all that – but

cannot accomplish it by myself…

Adsense

Some thoughts on advertising as part of a poetry blog

http://ivancarswell.wordpress.com/2012/04/22/adsense/

Saturday 21 April 2012

Used to charge like a Ninja over the dirt road with

the Jeep when taking Nici to her work place, today

driving with loving care and the SX4 was so sturdy,

cute and delicious I enjoyed the trip while the radio

played heroic Austrian marches

Only the blind spot on the right had me turn into the

wrong lane, forewarned I shall be careful in future -

gone the depression of earlier today when I chained

my mind to boring texts, my brain conked in when I

looked at those awkward sentences

Life seems meaningless when trying to decipher such

handwritten missives – at least the problem of sensory

overload is solved with everything in black and white –

black clothes, black handbag, imitation crystal,  white

scarf, dark car, calming mind and spirit…