Monday, March 31, 2008
How to avoid a fight
Hat tip to The Poor Mouth.
By the way, despite yesterday's little indisposedness, Jams would have 'fought off' 25 sweet dwarfish sunshines. Seems both we are bugbears of not the lowest order.
Well, that's, of course, but dull theory. There is no such battle to happen, even in case the gang of dwarfs called their giant brothers via mobile for help.
All I need say: Come on you boys, let's first conjugate fight.
And off they run, screaming in panic.
Ask my nephews.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Happy Birthday, Jams
There is but one tiny difference: Jams is exactly 20 years younger than John Major, and this will always remain, which is remarkable, but ... I shall always remain 28 years younger than Maggie Thatcher. :)
Hm, or is it rather another kind of coincidence?
To cut a long story short: Today Jams has become as young as I became nine years ago, which means he is now exactly one sixth younger than I am, which will - and herein I do find a great comfort - not remain. :)
In this spirit: Happy birthday, Jams!
My present for you: The legendary bicycle,
I am looking forward us together celebrating your 104th! :)
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Wordy Wednesday II
May today's 'top ten' find your interest; and, please: In case whenever what you are going to read is able to provoke a thought - don't be as 'bloody lazy' as I am. Write down your thought(s); leave a comment. :)
Here we go:
- Antipasti, anyone? Help yourself. :)
- Now you back, starched by the Sicilian viands Lady Limoncello is generously offering her visitors when she and Simi are not living adventures at the post office or kissing the driver of the water lorry - that is, in case he comes; not sure either Simi would kiss him :) ...
- ... you will have the required energy to read lots of 'stuff' you will find here.
Stop!! :) Before you are heading off, one big request: Please read thoroughly, don't miss the comments, and please, follow the links offered by James, especially the one to the Flying Rodent, who will get another commendation, later on.
:) Hm, I think this should do for now. Thus, I shall not give you all links necessary to take fully delight in the comment of the blogosphere's politest 'Anon'. :)
- Amongst many excellent postings by Jams O'Donnell who, by the way, is not 'just' seldom boring but a 'natural part of Omnium', as you will be easily able to understand by reading his profile :) , I chose this one.
It's about what once the Olympic idea was about. And immediately many many pictures in my mind. Only to mention two: Abebe Bikila winning the Rome Marathon (1960) on his bare feet; and Eddy 'the Eagle' who would have won Gold in Calgary (1988), had the competition been cancelled after the first starter of the second heat had safely landed. :)
- Ardent chose a topic letting my blood boil whenever it comes / is brought to my mind, which is why I did here not yet focus on it. No introduction. But I can tell you I am writing this with my clenched fists.
- Hey, hey, Sean, what's about something light, for a change, I hear you sigh. :) All right.
Here's another tale 'my' Turkish Seanachie, the inimitable Super Hero via keyboard let flow into the blogosphere. I am glad at least the fish was good. :)
And now, may I introduce you to the most recent 'part of Omnium'? It's a Lady who's Drinking the Moon , able to express in but a few words wherefore an ordinary mortal like me would mostly need at least fifty sentences. :)
in the realm of letters, Lady Janice. :)
- Internation Musing will let your inner peace pidgeon start cooing with delight when reading what some extraordinary pious protagonists of the most peaceful religion to find in all known galaxies and those galaxies yet to discover recently asked their humble and decent followers to do in order to transform this planet into an oasis of love and harmony.
- According to one of my maximes (Audiatur et altera pars) now you will get 'two in one'. One event, two opinions. Voilà: Here is the Flying Rodent with what he calls an Incredibly unpopular opinion (please do not miss to follow his updated link!!); and here an Egyptian Lady on the same event from her point of view.
Last not least quasi a belated thanks to Chris who would not have known that I took this very post as an antedated birthday present. Over listening several times I forgot telling him then. :)
And here we are again: Sean the lazy commenter. Thus, follow my commendations but not my example. :)
Above all, enjoy!
The Peace of the Night.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Just a short note
Friday morning I got up, felt ill,
after hours went down to mother-in-law
and asked for a pill.
Afterwards I visited little brother death,
i.e. I slept all day, all night,
fortunately woke up again,
feeling slightly allright.
This short note just to let you know it seems not impossible that I'll be back soon. :)
May health be on you.
Friday, March 21, 2008
I thought I could easily write about 15, 20 subjects within a couple of hours.
Still, I think I'll forgive myself and sleep well.
Hope you will, too. :)
The Peace of the Night.
Wishing long rotting testicles
It's people's war, folks. 'High noon' for 'informers'. Ah, denunciation. Ah, how wonderful. A highlight of civilisation.
The Dalai Lama? Oh well. (Almost) always smiling and friendly. Playing 'his role' almost perfectly.
What "His always smiling Peacefulness" would not say: Tibet was not heaven before 1950. Buddhism is not peace-loving 'per se'.
But it's quite logic what happens.
You can supress people for many years, many generations of them; it may last 50 years, hundred years, several hundred years - somewhen the day will come!
Well, I wish to the Chinese government and especially to all those regional criminals who are terrorizing what they think are 'their' people, the same I wish to Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld et. al.: may they become several hundreds years old and may their testicles be painfull rotting all the time.
Yes, I am humanist. Yes, I do like people. In general.
And I am still not swearing, would you agree? :)
A journalistic Hiroshima
No problem with this.
No problems either when people who would not care about (catch-)words, do call an accident 'catastrophe'.
Let alone they have not been taught/told: Very often such 'uneducated' persons are wiser than those who think they got the best education one could get under the sun.
But when journalists who - in my (in this case not) humble opinion - should know better, do call an explosion the Albanian Hiroshima and an Apocalyptic tragedy, they should give up their profession.
Mind: Those who lost beloved, may call what happened whatever comes to their mind. But journalists who would dare to write such rubbish are poor idiots*.
* not in the classical sense. May any idiot sue me. It will be my pleasure.
And be sure, I could give you thousands of examples for (embedded*) idiocy.
But please don't ask me to give them.. I am tired. Really tired.
On the other hand: As long as millions of those who are allowed to vote - come on, here's a chance to severely attack me :))) -, would spoil money to buy such excellent papers / to watch such super mega TV-channels, it's a market, would you agree?
* here I am not refering to those journalists who'd go in bed with the 'devil' for what they - or rather their masters call a good story, but to something general: education.
Ah, another trap I digged for myself. Okay: education is a 'hot field'. Who would set the canon? What if the pupil does not wish to listen to the teacher(s); to the parents (who may have had good or bad teachers)? Who defines what's a bad teacher?
Should teachers teach what has been thought, or should they teach inspire thinking?
Rhetoric question. Yes. Sorry about such a simplicity.
Anybody who thinks s(h)e has a simple / the one and only answer to the problem: Very welcome!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Two simple poems
What a wise young woman.
My answer: I could sit in front of the teli, watching the tales of Mr. Bush et. al., chips in one hand, bottle of beer in the other, muttering indecent words, and I'd change nothing. And I could write a poem.
It will change nothing, either. But at least I shall not have kept silent.
These were my second and my third poem I ever wrote in English:
[As an answer to Mr. Bush saying: 'Either you are with us or against us.'
New World Order
pleading for peace
are being taught:
You are an enemy.
And the second, refering to '"Enduring Freedom":
or: The Whore of war"
(Fiction)Once upon a time
- not in the years of Babel, though, -
a puppet said with oily voice:
"I am a peace-loving person"
and offered "World"this choice:
"Either you are with us, or you are against us."
Thus, pushing forward to
the inmost inner of the roots of the core,
united peace-lovers found a visionary lore:
Short after unweaponed "World"
embraced the whore of war.
"World" would need no ...
... no; no ...: would HAVE no
As, some years later:
Goodman Death knocks:
"The game is over!"
The puppet’s life flees,
and so does the masters'
And 'World says: R.i.P.!
The rest is peace ...
(How naive? - I told you, it’s fiction.)
Today, five years ago the first 'noble' bombs fell on Bagdad.
'Shock and awe.'
Let me anticipate you do have all information I had during the past nine years.
It spares me repeating millions of words.
I'd like to say so much, though.
Bush, bin Laden et. al. are one side of the medal.
Cheney et. al. are the third (sic) side of the medal.
I wish these gentlemen will become 2003 years old, suffering from their testicles rotting off. - And I mean it. I mean it with all my heart!
Just to make sure: Bush, Cheney, Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, Pearle (please continue page 112) are (war-) criminals.
Nothing against soldiers. They are useful idiots. Example: Mr. McCain.
This does not mean I do expect any better in case Mrs. Clinton were going to enter the oral office (sic), or Mr. Obama with his adviser Brzezinski.
By the way, (latest) in case polls were 'telling' one of the so-called Democrats might be winning, I'd not be surprised if there were a new war (guess where) initiated*, as 'one does not change the horse during war times'.
* no! No! There will never (!) be an outbreak of war. A war would always (!) be instigated.
Well, as the title says: an experiment.
I shall be writing and posting fast tonight, as the thoughts come; not caring about typos, not looking up my dictionaries in order to - hopefully :) - find the proper word, trusting upon that those who have (virtually) come to 'know' me (a little) better will leniently smile, ...
... and perhaps even you who's just stumbling upon this site.
So let's go. Without filtres.
Hm, yes - one filtre will be on!
But that - a spontaneous decision :) - is already worth a post of its own.
Anticipating a question:
Why would you run the risk to make an exhibition of yourself?
Answer: Is there a risk? :)
In other words: Critizise my thoughts, negatively and/or posively. Correct my mistakes. Do whatever you wish. Your opinion is highly appreciated, the more when you do it in a friendly manner. :)
In this sense (as Robert Frost once said):
Go on talking
but don't take my style away,
it's my face - may be not good,
Monday, March 17, 2008
Rush to Croagh Patrick
Seems your early afternoon post caused a spontaneous exodus. Bars and pubs empty. Traffic jam on all major roads to Mayo. The first topers ... err ... pilgrims arrived at 13:20. In five-minute-intervals RTE's repeating following message, sponsored by the Guinness Brewery and Bushmill's: 'People of Ireland: Return to your pubs. His Holiness will not be serving free Guinness and uisce beatha on top of Croagh Patrick.' Nobody seems to listen ...
St. Pat's crawling
Instead, more Irish will enter a bar and get pretty stone-drunk.
'Until Wednesday then.'
'Oh, trip to Tibet?
'No, march to Mayo.'
'Ah, celebrating once again that St. Patrick worked wonder?
'Expelling all snakes from Hiberna.'
'It was no wonder, at all.'
'All Old Paddy did was quasi expemplifying a metamorphosis.'
Sean, did you ever notice that since there are no serpents the esmerald island is swarming with priests? :)
And off he went.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
On the Ides of March ...
... I went down in history by not falling off the ladder when being busy in garden. :)
Oh yes, and in Modica Lady Limoncello posted her 1000th 'articulo'.
What a day!
Friday, March 14, 2008
A very dear friend of mine
The PantherHis tired gaze - from passing endless bars -
has turned into a vacant stare which nothing holds.
To him there seem to be a thousand bars,
and out beyond these bars exists no world.
His supple gait, the smoothness of strong strides
that gently turn in ever smaller circles
perform a dance of strength, centered deep within
a will, stunned, but untamed, indomitable.
But sometimes the curtains of his eyelids part,
the pupils of his eyes dilate as images
of past encounters enter while through his limbs
a tension strains in silence
only to cease to be, to die within his heart.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
Der Panther [Original]Im Jardin des Plantes, Paris
Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe
so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.
Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.
Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf -. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille -
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Monday, March 10, 2008
When magic strikes
the woman of the south & the man from the north
will have united in love for eternity,
and have become one in flesh and spirit,
the children of Lir, who have been transformed
into swans by Aife, will be redeemed ...'
This labouring through what is still undone,as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way,is like the awkward walking of the swan.
And dying-to let go, no longer feelthe solid ground we stand on every day-is like anxious letting himself fall
into waters, which receive him gentlyand which, as though with reverence and joy,draw back past him in streams on either side;while, infinitely silent and aware,in his full majesty and ever moreindifferent, he condescends to glide.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
Diese Mühsal, durch noch Ungetanes
schwer und wie gebunden hinzugehn,
gleicht dem ungeschaffnen Gang des Schwanes.
Und das Sterben, dieses Nichtmehrfassen
jenes Grundes, auf dem wir täglich stehn,
seinem ängstlichen Sich-Niederlassen –:
in die Wasser, die ihn sanft empfangen
und die sich, wie glücklich und vergangen,
unter ihm zurückziehen, Flut um Flut;
während er unendlich still und sicher
immer mündiger und königlicher
und gelassener zu ziehn geruht.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Wings of love
Imagine love to be a bird, and man and woman being its wings.
Only when both wings will move in harmony the bird can fly.
Once in a year?
Not because I'd be against such days.
It's just I do not need them.
I do respect (wo)men 365 days a year - and 366 days in leap-years.
Regardless of their age, their looks, their (dis)abilities.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Same procedure as every year
Both were born in the past millennium, both March 6th.
But there's a difference:
Today was quite certainly not Mrs. J's 533rd anniversary.
Which is why there was the same procedure as every year when opening our eyes this morning.
Said I: You're looking younger than ever.
She, smiling: 'Ah, you are so charming.'
And I'd breathe a little sigh of relief
when she didn't add '... Michelangelo'.
The Peace of the Night! :)
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Tonight I'll do it.
Don't you live the same (at least) sometimes? You read a wonderful sentence and you 'need', you wish to share. "Darling, listen."
:) Well, ideally, 'Darling' would hear you breathing heavily, sighing, chuckling and chirp: "My ears are yours."
So often I'd 'stumble' upon remarkable postings. And only seldom I'd let you know.
Why? There are quite a few remarkable bloggers recommending 'good stuff', and there is just not the time to read all. So, why should I increase the dilemma? :)
Anyway, hic Rhodos, hic salta. :)
Tonight, I do ask/recommend to read following posts.
No, I shall offer no 'introductions', just the links.
But I am very curious to learn, if you like/find interesting what I do like/find interesting/find moving. :)
Here we go:
A daughter's 'homage' to her mother(s).
A 'real character' and his search for a job.
Turkey's veiled dilemma.
The Raven and the First Man.
Courage - Amnesty International Call
I so hate the barbers: a story of doing nothing.
Two trips to the hardware store.
On transmutation of nouns.
Money makes the world go mad - an economic forecast.
And in case some of you like the mixture, there will be more 'wordy Wednesdays'. :)
Saturday, March 01, 2008
XX by Dafydd ap Gwilym
Although it is not May, yet, I do not have any doubt you will enjoy. :)
I made a tryst in the May brushwood, (graceful Dafydd and a handsome girl). An honest woman, she who met me. On the fair hillside under a dark bank, I gave her the kisses she was seeking, finding no fault in the pretty creature; and she got from me — bright generous jewel — two for every kiss she gave.
But in her declarations, far bolder was my girl than I, and when I heard my gentle creature speak so plain I fled at her challenge into my shell, and Startled, hid her words under my unlucky chatter.
But there under the oaks my fate was spun, and this new colour woven in :
"Rude Dafydd, you never came just to meet me, without hoping for all the embraces you remembered, and no refusal ? "
"For pleasure, not for this I came - but still for love of you, ‑ Fair foolish creature, I know I shall not have you!"
"But I never came just for your sake to the wood, but hoping to leave it freed from maidenhood!"
”A maid you’ll be though, unrevenged on me, and here you'll see nothing that's not pure as snow, nor hear any but pure and proper speech." (O Mary, even if you wish this, I do not: nor will I submit!) "You'll be spoken ill of, and not without reason, that you came to meet me here. I am wise now through having lost my wits, and I would not care to feel the hurt and fury of your father, which I felt a little while ago."
"Stop your clever excuses and let what may be, be. Out there in the meadow, or in some byre, it's safe enough!"
"This easy going brings down the black faced wrath of relatives, and though this is harmless, there is the great archdeacon. liberal when he wishes, but excommunicating whom he likes in his own district if he is not given generously forty Shillings"
"O hard and nasty you are Dafydd, here under the leaves of the hillside! Shall a good Welshman lack the grace to give these forty Shillings?"
"What if I have not these forty Shillings, so early on the bold summer's day?"
"Get it from me then, and owe me a song and pay me fairly when you wish."
Then I could make no more clever excuses, but stayed there since she did not refuse me; and with this handsome creature found perfect pleasure.
Dydd Gŵyl Dewi
Not so the Welsh. Today they are celebrating St. David's Day.
Wish therefore, I could be in Sicily and enjoy eating some delicious Welshcakes. :)