Real Tart
Dylan Thomas got it right
- And death shall have no dominion.
- Dead men naked they shall be one
- With the man in the wind and the west moon;
- When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
- They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
- Though they go mad they shall be sane,
- Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
- Though lovers be lost love shall not;
- And death shall have no dominion.
- And death shall have no dominion.
- Under the windings of the sea
- They lying long shall not die windily;
- Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
- Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
- Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
- And the unicorn evils run them through;
- Split all ends up they shan't crack;
- And death shall have no dominion.
- And death shall have no dominion.
- No more may gulls cry at their ears
- Or waves break loud on the seashores;
- Where blew a flower may a flower no more
- Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
- Though they be mad and dead as nails,
- Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
- Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
- And death shall have no dominion.
Though lovers be lost, love shall not; And death shall have no dominion.
down, down down
I got an email from his friend. Apparently, when he is awake he talks about me all of the time, and amongst other things, keeps saying "I'm sorry".Sorry for what?
For loving me so fiercely that I can at last say I truly know what it is liked to be loved?
For being the one man in my life who has ever matched my sexual appetite and appreciated me more for it rather than less?
For showing me that love can be a 50/50 split?
For believing in us, in me?
He doesn't have anything to be sorry about at all.
Almost as bad as it gets
Another massive attack. A stroke on top of that. They can't get his blood pressure to stabilise.He will be dead before Christmas. It's days rather than weeks.
I'm not terribly domesticated
Fortunately, the man I married was even less so and didn't really notice. The early years of my marriage were hard ones, in the physical sense, as I had two young babies and a very painful degenerative arthritis. I managed to keep things tidy and clean but by no stretch of the imagination would my floors have been safe to eat your dinner off.Years passed, I got somewhat better, my children grew up. I got very houseproud. I used to even starch (old-fashioned white starch you mixed up and soaked with) the Spousehole's business shirts before I ironed them. Yes, ironed. God, I'm ashamed. I don't now though, and appalled my youngest yesterday by by suggesting that she was a changeling because she had an ironing gene. I digress, back to then: You could eat off my floors as well at times.
Then came marriage dissolution and as it was mostly only me, I didn't give a rat's arse about how clean my place, or even me, actually was. Any day that I managed to shower was a good one. It still mostly was tidy, though and fairly clean.
Now the dissolution is complete.
I am currently house-sitting for my mama, who is off on safari in her home land of Kenya. She gets back in two days. I've had my daughters staying with me for all of that time and we all loved it so much. But in this five week period I've only bothered to wash clothes, dishes and vacuum the house twice. I am a lazy slattern.
How lazy I actually am was finally brought home to me tonight.
My mama has two dogs and I cat. I am not enamoured of dogs anyway and these ones annoy the piss out of me. They are so cringy; tail between the legs cringy every time they look at me and I've never done anything to them apart from yell. God, I want to kick them, though (I feel that way about weedy men who adore me, also). These dogs are fluffyish, spread hair everywhere and stink to high heaven. That's why I could never be a dog owner unless I could bathe them once a week - this house smells bad. People who live with dogs to recognise exactly how bad the smell is to non dog owners. Sort of like smoker-versus non smoker.
Tonight I was cleaning up a little, vacuuming up fur, washing etc. I was going to wash the dogs so they could go right back onto their clean doggy beds. But my heart quailed at lifting and struggling with those two uncooperative hunks of smell (and by the way, dog fart has to be the worst in the world. Truth.)
So instead of washing them, I simply Febreze-d them. Febreze for those who've never experienced the wonder of this nifty little spray product, is " Fabric refreshener and odor remover". I had a roommate at college* who used to postpone his laundry by wearing everything inside out the second week and then repeating for the next two weeks by Febrezing the items. I once asked him if his clothes didn't stick to him and he said by week three they were starting to but it still beat washing. There you go. There's a precedent for using it on smelly unwashed items. Such as stinky farty rat dogs.**
I'm never going to tell my mum, though"
*I think it was this guy and his friends who joined the Army Reserve. This led to a story of them nicking a lot of khaki coloured paint and using it to decorate their newly purchased run down unit. Including the toilet.
Ever afterwards using the toilet was known as touching up the camouflage.
** The cat doesnt stink but its very furry and I found that all of my body piercings had developed fluffy little balls on the ends of them.
PS Excuse typing. Cat on keyboard, liteally and I'm typing one fingered, by cradling most of the rest of it in the other arm.It's tail is lashing furiously onto the numerical section.
I've got six missed calls on my phone, all of them marked 'unknown'. I actually only heard one of them but I was around for the others, judging by the time, and they didn't make a sound.
When Ron used to call me regularly he would complain that half the time he could never get through, even though my phone was available.. The problem always seemed to be his end.
Not many people come up as 'unknown' on the phone. One of my daughters does but she was already with me. I suppose it could be about that job.
But I've got a very bad feeling about this. I called him and the phone rang before it went to message bank. Prior to this it has just gone straight through to the message bank..
God, I hate this teetering back and forth. Is he better? Is he worse? Is he calling to tell me he's out of hospital? Is someone else calling me to let me know that he's finished? I vacillate between optimism and realism.
It's like a fucking see-saw on the precipice of death.
Still nothing better
One of the nicest things about Ron and my's relationship is that the development of it went slowly and is documented. Of necessity, we wrote to each other way more than we called. I was out in the bush, his phone bills got horrendous. Actually, speaking of phone bills I remember once arguing with him, saying that I was calling him and I was paying the bills: I just didn't get that in the States they charge you per second, whether or not you are calling or being called, or checking messages or receiving them, or taking pictures, listening to music, even just looking at the damn thing. So after that he called me because it didn't make sense for both of us to pay; we'd split the call fees.Anyway, there were an awful lot of emails, chats and even proper paper letters. I can look back on them now, reread and feel comforted. I can pinpoint the exact moment when he said he was falling in love with me. I can see the whole thing develop, undercutting a myriad of deeper and deep layers. Which led to a blog entry a while ago:
I have a secret and I am certainly not telling anybody else but the whole one or two readers who glance by every so often, might as well be told. Anybody that puts up with this sort of crap deserves it.
There's a guy: I want him, he appears to want me. For months we've been skirting around the edge of things, knowing long distance relationship seldom work.
But our attraction to each other is monumental and we have decided to take the next step and see if we can tolerate each other for a short period of time.
I'm crazy about him, I can't help it. Fuck reason and rationality, I just want him.
And ssh! It's a secret
Yeah, it worked. Boy, did it work.
It's working still.
Just a little jab, won't hurt
I see Ian Fraser, who developed the vaccine against cervical cancer, is now working on one for a form of skin cancer. What next I wondered.Remember the fuss about the cervical cancer vaccine? The religious fundamentalists were outraged that a scientist was attempting to remove one bit of the "wages of sin is death" mentality. So they were refusing to let their daughters be vaccinated because then they (the daughters) might be tempted to engage in S.E.X. without realising that if they did they would die, horribly. God intended them to die horribly, I guess, by creating cervical cancer in the first place.
Wonder what they will say about a skin cancer vaccine? Refuse to allow their children to have it because god intended that if they went in the sun too much they should also die horribly? Can't have scientists playing god of course, that is the job of religious fundamentalists.
I think someone should work on an anti-religion vaccine.
See I think that, just as no one realised that some cancers were caused by infectious agents, no one has properly understood that religion is not just a metaphorical disease, but an actual one. I think that a few thousand years ago the Earth happened to pass through a cloud containing a particularly virulent and infectious organism. The dust rained down on the planet (which explains why all religions have a belief in some kind of "heaven" "up there" in the sky) and the plague began. Passed on from parents and community elders to children. Doesn't take much, especially if the child can be infected at a very young age, but usually much harder in adults who have developed some immunity.
Shouldn't be too hard to develop a vaccine. Religion, like influenza, does come in a few different varieties, but they share a lot of common features, and finding the common core of the virus and producing general immunity all over the world should be relatively straightforward.
Once everyone was immunised then scientists could get back to developing vaccines and cures for other nasty diseases which have evolved in humans, knowing that they would no longer be rejected by sufferers of religious immune deficiency syndrome, their brains scrambled by irrational beliefs.
And the side effects of a world immune to religion would be not inconsiderable. One of those win-win solutions. I think I might volunteer to do some work to help the development. I'm sure some of you will join me.
I know many fundamentalists like to frighten themselves by peeping into the atheist world, rather in the way others might watch a horror movie, or take a scary ride in a fun park. All are welcome to have a peep at the terrifying atheism of The Watermelon Blog.
atheism
Yeah, yeah, we know I'm pathetic
I get leeway, though, because my fiance is dying. If it was just a breakup, a standard one, with no clogging in arteries, swelling of extremities, stopping of hearts; well, then, you are not allowed to play songs that were meaningful to your ex-relationship over and over again. There is usually a good friend who will help you burn them or blow them up or convert the cd's into fancy frisbees or ashtrays. (I seem to remember that I gave one of mine away to an old aboriginal woman sitting in the park in Broome - I don't know the thought process of that gifting).But for now I am playing these two songs over and over and you have to shut up about it. It's a relationship ending, too. The lyrics are beautiful and so is the music.
"I Will Follow You Into The Dark"
Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
'cause we'll hold each other soon
In the blackest of rooms
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the No's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Then I'll follow you into the dark
or
"What Sarah Said"
And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself that I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD took you a little farther away from me
Away from me
Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines in a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds
But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself
'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news
And then the nurse comes round and everyone will lift their heads
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said that "Love is watching someone die"
So who's going to watch you die?..
Death Cab for Cutie for both of those.
Sudden Impact
The other day, in a city not in, say, central America, or southern Africa, but just down the road from me in Australia, an Environmental Impact Statement was released in relation to a potentially large, but publicly unpopular, project. The EIS found that carrying out this development on grasslands, and near a suburb, would have absolutely no environmental impact on anyone or anything. It was once said of Randolph Churchill, who had an operation in which a tumour was removed and found to be benign "they removed the only part of him that wasn't malignant", and a finding that such a development would cause no damage caused similar surprise.The concept of an EIS was once to make sure, in contrast to the open slather "shoot it if it moves and chop it down if it's standing still" no stone left unturned ethos of the dark ages of development, that the motto for developers should be "first do no harm". The statements were, or were meant to be, an attempt to put an end to 200 years of largely destructive Australian development. To begin to take care of the world around us. If an EIS revealed potential damage, then the development was meant to be modified, or even stopped entirely.
Well, that was never going to be allowed to continue. And gradually, like heating up a jar of water with a frog in it, the nature and role of the EIS has been downgraded. In the recent case it was once again clear that in carrying out an EIS the government concerned was just going through the motions, continuing an ancient ritual that had no meaning in the modern world. Get the EIS out of the way and then get on with the development. The new Premier in the west has made this even more explicit with his chilling announcement that WA was "open for business", symbolised by his introduction of open slather on uranium mines. The mining companies were delighted, demanding a total removal of red tape and "green tape", by which they meant any consideration of the harm their multi million dollar projects would do to the world we share with them.
I agree with them to a point. The EIS concept has long outlived its usefulness. When it was introduced there were still some relatively undamaged areas, still some hope that we could maintain some healthy habitats. That big companies had enough of a social and community conscience that when an EIS found potential damage they would back off and do things differently in order to reduce that damage. But those hopes have been unrealised. There has been so much additional damage done in the last 30 years or so, in spite of the EIS system, that there are few undamaged areas left. And developers and other big corporations have proved themselves totally uninterested in anything except cutting it down, digging it up, shipping it off. It is impossible to imagine a genuine EIS anywhere that could approve of a development - unlike Randolph Churchill, I don't see where you could find a benign activity in the twenty first century.
So what we need now are a kind of reverse EIS, a Life Impact Statement. No more development on currently undeveloped land (the so-called greenfields sites). And no development at all even on brownfield sites unless positive environmental outcomes can be demonstrated. Time the corporations started putting back in more than they are taking out. Otherwise we, as a community say no. No more get out of environmental jail free EIS documents. Just no.
We need some Premiers who can say not "we're open for business" but "we're open for life". And issue LIS documents to prove it.
But first we might need to modify the Australian Constitution in the way that central American Ecuador has just modified its own. I couldn't do better than this, and nor has any other country yet - it grants nature the right to "exist, persist, maintain and regenerate its vital cycles, structure, functions and its processes in evolution" and will grant legal standing to any person to defend those rights in court. Hooray for Ecuador. Perhaps I should send copies to Katy Gallagher and Colin Barnett. And Peter Garrett.
environment
Get paid to produce power.
Now this is a good idea. The Clean Energy Council wants people who produce renewable power to be paid for the privellege. Fair's fair, I reckon. Why shouldn't they? If they care for the environment enough to invest in a clean source of power production, and can share their excess power with their community, why shouldn't they be able to recoup some of that investment? If a scheme such as this is approved, I'll predict a jump in the amount of solar cells sold in Australia. A lot more people will jump on the solar bandwagon as they see the possibility of getting a return for their trouble. I'll also predict a drop in the amount of power that we'll need to produce by means of coal burning. The increase in the production and supply of renewable power could easily account for a good deal of our home use, at the very least.While we're on this subject, I just want to have another word or two. It kind of annoys me that energy suppliers are currently charging an extra fee to supply renewable power to some consumers, simply by tagging it as a green choice. Then they try guilt-tripping the community into paying that extra fee without complaining. Hello power companies... renewable power costs a hell of a lot LESS to produce. Charging people more for a cheaper product usually ends up breeding a contempt in the community for that particular product. Is it no wonder that some people just don't want to consider this option?
Way to encourage a clean change, guys.
Life is not as orderly as I'd like it
I thought I could handle this well. I'd sort of arranged things in my mind; divided everything into stages.The first stage would be operational and I would be very functional and just let grief be sidelined for a bit. I would plan my single future so that I had something to stick to when the time came., because I wouldn't be able to organise anything then. It would be practical stuff, such as a future job, rearranged finances, grief counselling and/or doctor's aid for depression if I needed it. I did all of that because he wanted me to but I somehow didn't relate it to actually being necessary for myself.
Then I was planning a stage where things were sort of ok with us. He wouldn't be too sick and we could on together, having fun, laughing and loving each other. Maybe even getting together again. Focusing on the NOW and the memories we would be making. We had that stage. It was a lot shorter than either of us expected.
Onto the time when Ron got sicker and went in and out of hospital a lot. In between those periods, we would be making the most of our time. Admitting the deepest emotion possible to each other. Loving each other more exponentially each day. Feeling lucky that we've even had this small time together. A time of intense sorrow and supreme joy, that we were both grateful for; that will help me cope in the future.
Then the time that he died. I was thinking a quick death, I don't know why. That's where we are at now. It's not quick; it's slow and lingering and awful and tastes like quinine on my tongue.
I suppose I got most of my stages fairly right. I just didn't expect it all quite so fast. It reminds me of when I was a kid and we used to careen down horribly steep hills on homebuilt go-karts. The euphoric rush was amazing but at the same time, the knowledge that you couldn't stop these things and that you could end up incredibly damaged in a little heap anywhere, charred the enjoyment increasingly the further down you went.
I don't know where this go-kart ride is taking me but I'm picking up speed and I envisage a lot of gravel rash, maybe broken bones or even permanent scarring at the end. I was so focused on him that I didn't really think that much about me and how I'd end up. This is teaching me that I've simply got to let go of my expectations and that, perhaps, is the hardest thing of all.
I'm reading a lot of poetry right now
Some lovely person left this one in one of my comments way back and I was very grateful.I don't know who it's by, but it deserves to be shared. It summons up how I am feeling right now.
The world slows down
But my heart beats fast right now
I know this is the part
Where the end starts
I can't take it any longer
Thought that we were stronger
All we do is linger
Slipping through our fingers
I don't wanna try now
All that's left's goodbye
To find a way that I can tell you
I hate this part right here
I hate this part right here
I just can't take your tears
I hate this part right here
Shame, Peter, Shame.
What is this? Why now, when you have the power to, won't you protect our livestock? Because that's what our whales are, right? Any animal that resides in our territory is our livestock. We wouldn't stand for a bunch of Japanese businessmen coming over here to take off a shipload of our best merinos for 'studying'. Nor do we stand for illegal fishermen coming into our waters to take our fish stock. And there is always an outrage when we hear of someone trying to export a bunch of snake eggs, or baby cockatoos. Would you allow a foreigner to go into a national park and club a heap of koalas to death?So why should we allow one of our greatest tourism drawcards to be killed off willy nilly, with only the promise of scientific study? Seriously, what kind of useful study can be done on a dead whale that can't be done with a small sample of DNA from a live specimen? Errr..... does whale meat taste more like fish or chicken?
Come on Peter, we all know that the Japanese are treating us like the idiots that we (apparently) are. We should be sending a NAVY ship down to keep an eye on them, with the clear message that our whales are valuable stock, and that the theft and/or death of said stock will not be tollerated.
Have some balls.
Black Marigolds
Even now
If I see in my soul the citron-breasted fair one
Still gold-tinted, her face like our night stars,
Drawing unto her; her body beaten about with flame,
Wounded by the flaring spear of love,
My first of all by reason of her fresh years,
Then is my heart buried alive in snow.
Even now
If my girl with lotus eyes came to me again
Weary with the dear weight of young love,
Again I would give her to these starved twins of arms
And from her mouth drink down the heavy wine,
As a reeling pirate bee in fluttered ease
Steals up the honey from the nenuphar.
Even now
If I saw her lying all wide eyes
And with collyrium the indent of her cheek
Lengthened to the bright ear and her pale side
So suffering the fever of my distance,
Then would my love for her be ropes of flowers, and night
A black-haired lover on the breasts of day.
Even now
My eyes that hurry to see no more are painting, painting
Faces of my lost girl. O golden rings
That tap against cheeks of small magnolia-leaves,
O whitest so soft parchment where
My poor divorced lips have written excellent
Stanzas of kisses, and will write no more.
Even now
Death sends me the flickering of powdery lids
Over wild eyes and the pity of her slim body
All broken up with the weariness of joy;
The little red flowers of her breasts to be my comfort
Moving above scarves, and for my sorrow
Wet crimson lips that once I marked as mine.
Even now
They chatter her weakness through the two bazaars
Who was so strong to love me. And small men
That buy and sell for silver being slaves
Crinkles the fat about their eyes; and yet
No Prince of the Cities of the Sea has taken her,
Leading to his grim bed. Little lonely one,
You cling to me as a garment clings; my girl.
Even now
I love long black eyes that caress like silk,
Ever and ever sad and laughing eyes,
Whose lids make such sweet shadow when they close
It seems another beautiful look of hers.
I love a fresh mouth, ah, a scented mouth,
And curving hair, subtle as a smoke,
And light fingers, and laughter of green gems.
Even now
I remember that you made answer very softly,
We being one soul, your hand on my hair,
The burning memory rounding your near lips;
I have seen the priestesses of Rati make love at moon fall
And then in a carpeted hall with a bright gold lamp
Lie down carelessly anywhere to sleep.
Even now
I mind the coming and talking of wise men from towers
Where they have thought away their youth. And I, listening,
Found not the salt of the whispers of my girl,
Murmur of confused colours, as we lay near sleep;
Little wise words and little witty words,
Wanton as water, honied with eagerness.
Even now
I mind that I loved cypress and roses, clear,
The great blue mountains and the small grey hills,
The sounding of the sea. Upon a day
I saw strange eyes and hands like butterflies;
For me at morning larks flew from the thyme
And children came to bathe in little streams.
Even now
I know that I have savoured the hot taste of life
Lifting green cups and gold at the great feast.
Just for a small and a forgotten time
I have had full in my eyes from off my girl
The whitest pouring of eternal light...
translated from the Sanskrit by
E. Powsy Mathers
Patience is not a virtue I have
I'm sitting here, waiting to hear about my best beloved and I'm fuming and getting mad as hell with him as well as lapsing into deep troughs of sorrow. The thing is, he had a massive heart attack nearly a week ago, managed to grab a nurse's computer for a quick two liner saying he was out of touch and why and I've heard nothing since.He is not allowed a phone at all, and definitely not the computer and he's in critical care. The thing is, the hospital won't hand out info over the phone as I am not next of kin. Plus, I don't even know what bloody one it is. His dad and his best friend have my number and apparently have been told to call when he's dead so that I can be notified. But being male, I don't suppose they'll update in the interim and so far they haven't. I do not have their numbers.
Yes, I know, this is incredibly stupid. It's something that I've been trying to get on top of for a while now but you have to understand that my time with Ron is extremely limited. In our phone calls and online chats I start off and ask and then he has to go tot he trouble of looking them up as his phone is broken and then we get sidetracked and mushy and pathetic and then he's yanked away for some reason or another. So I write it down in emails but he forgets. Prolonged psychological stress, such as he is suffering, actually does affect the temporal (I think its that one) lobe in the brain. This means that he forgets things and experiences other things that don't actually happen. So his concentration span is very short and it certainly doesn't extend to answering questions that I write to him.
So I'm a not-quite-lady-enough-in-waiting and it is a purely torturous limbo. I don't honestly think he'll survive this attack and my supposition is that he is slowly slipping away, getting weaker and weaker and I will never get a chance to say goodbye to him.
Remember thislady? She wrote a very evocative post about how her illness was hard because she had to give up control of her life when it intruded. I'm just the girlfriend and I've said as much in the past. The lack of control I have right now is so huge that its making me angry. Really angry. Poor Ron. He gets daily emails and phone messages left on his non working phone and he gets called a selfish son of a bitch, and other less kind descriptions, for putting me in this situation, which could be so easily remedied. Then I feel guilty over the top of the rage. Still, no matter how angry I am, I'll always tell him how much I love him because that's true as well. He'll probably never get these messages but that doesn't matter.
Something has changed a little with this latest development. Ms Titty Titty Bang Bang, along with her perceptive remarks about lack of control, also expresses a wish for a finish line to be drawn, something definitive that says 'alright, my cancer is done'. I really want that too, in my own situation. This drawn out flenshing of my nerves is driving me slowly insane, I think, and I don't say that lightly. Now if I can't be with him right at the end, then I want the end right now. I'm trying to save me.
On a more lighthearted note, the anger thing is coming out in rather inappropriate ways. People tell me that they are praying for him and for me and I think that's rather nice. I appreciate it. Of course, its not going to change anything but its helping them feel like they're contributing to the rather awkward social situation of death and thereby helping me. Sometimes I look back at what I say and feel a bit abashed.
The last line of what will probably be the last communication I ever have from him said only this: 'pray for me, honey, it's really bad. I love you'. Actually it said, 'pray for me hiony, ove ytou' but that I presume was morphine spelling and I can translate. But he's never said that before, about the praying, which shows how deeply he's affected by this because he is as pagan as I am ( I always thought).
I was discussing this with somebody and she asked whether I was going to pray or not. I said no. She should have left it at that but she asked for my reasons. I can't pray to any God because to do so means that I admit the presence of an omnisicient, omnipotent, morally perfect being, who has control of things. Other people also claim its a God of love and compassion etc etc.
Assuming that then, then God is either leaving world activities up to total random chance rather than interfere, or God has decided that removing Ron is part of some divine plan which I can't know the reason for but should be comforted by regardless, as part of His divine plan. Either way, in my view it makes God a fucking arsehole and I don't see why I should grovel to him. If He was so loving etc He wouldn't be doing this in the first place. And I don't care if it might be a link in a huge chain to make things better for mankind. I'm selfish and I don't give a stuff about most of the rest of you.
Anyway, this was the gist of my explanation as to why me no kneely, swear words included. But the rest of you out there feel free to pray away. Convince me, please.
I get unreasonably annoyed these days.
I'm so angry at times. Angry at things which really don't matter much. I know this is an overflow from not being able to scream abuse at my beloved, berate him for his dying on the other of the world while I can only wait.Today I actually found my anger kind of funny. I got really pissed off at the police.
I was driving daughter number one to her boyfriend's place to spend the night (incidentally, when did she get so beautiful? She was always pretty but she's luminescent these days and I can't take my eyes off her. Maybe its because she is young and vibrant and alive and that is so wanted by me in my life, considering the actuality of the alternative).
There was a police booze bus at the bottom of the hill (to overseas readers this means a big coach full of policeman and drug and alcohol tests. They pull you over and test you, check your licences etc. You are not allowed to refuse).
They don't pull over everybody and its completely random as to whether or not you are one of the chosen. They carefully set the bus up so that it covers both sides of the road and so that you can't duck off down side streets. It's very time consuming because everybody slows to a crawl.
Usually, I feel extremely virtuous because I don't drink and drive, and I love to happily blow into the bag and record a negative figure. Although, I did once record first thing in the morning, five minutes after toothpaste and mouthwash; no biggie, though, and they just waited another ten minutes and then it was zero. So, I was slowed right down and Emmy said, 'Hey, Mum, try to pull up next to a cute one!'.
I'm a good mamma. I shuffled the car slowly forward to a youngish cute policeman. He had torch in hand and made the sweeping off to the side movements that mean you're going to have to give a blow job. Then he paused and looked intently at me and instead waved me forward. 'What!' sputtered Em indignantly. I myself was conscious of a feeling of rage. I was prepared for a virtuous random breath test, to prove how good a system I actually am and I didn't get the chance. My reaction was actually way out of proportion and surprised even me. Good thing the window was wound up of he might have have heard the screech of 'What the fuck!" and they don't like that at all. It just seemed as though it was really, really important to me to actually do the test.
Maybe because the rest of my life is so out of control and that would have been a fixed finite positive. There's precious few of those around right now for me.
I was puzzled why he appeared to change his mind though, because it had looked as if we definitely were going to do it.
I thought and thought about it and then I came up with something that might explain it. I think he recognised me and he was being nice, because most people don't care to blow in the bag.
And just how did he recognise me? Spiders.
I wrote about it once upon a time on a different blog. There was an incident at that exact same spot on the road involving me, a large evil furry spider, a motorbike cop and semi nudity.
If you're interested, here it is. I wrote about it again a while ago to try and cheer Ron up.
I was driving back from dropping Emmy off at her boyfriend's place, which is at the bottom of Kalamunda Hill. It has been very sunshiny today and the angle of the sun meant it bounced off a roof up the hill and dazzled me a bit. So i pulled down the sun visor
...only to see a huge fucking great huntsman spider on the other side *shudder*.
You know me and spiders! I screamed hard, instinctively tried to draw my hand as far away as possible but that random move, combined with the radical swerve of the car as I lost my grip on the steering wheel, FLICKED it straight onto my face!
more screaming (I think I went hypersonic) and in trying to claw it off my face punched myself really hard in the nose!
Spidey scampered off my face and onto my shoulder!
Still screaming, I at least had the presence of mind to drive into the side of the road (i wasn't going very fast) and jump out of the car. I couldn't see it and I was running my hands frantically down myself to get rid of it but I couldn't find it . (This is all happening in about 2 seconds by the way). So I stripped off my shirt. And my pants. Amazingly enough, I was wearing panties, in preparation for a beauty treatment, but trust me, standing on the side of the road in your underwear is not a regular occurrence. At least the countless cars that signified their approval as they went past didn't think so. No spider in either item of clothing and I checked up and down, inside and out, and then put my clothes back on.
But the story doesn't end there. Oh no.
You see, as I came around the corner at the base of the hill, there was a traffic cop with a speed gun on the opposite side of the road hidden up a bit. He saw my random swerve, jumped on his bike and sirened after me. Of course, I had already pulled into the side by then and he came up to me as I was taking off my clothes!
I don't honestly know what he said because I was in fucking spider of DEATH mode and it took a little while before I paid him any attention. He then made me blow into a bag, convinced that I was drunk and it wasn't until it came up negative that he accepted the spider explanation and then he laughed so much he could barely stand up.
Nice man, though. He went into the evil cannister of DEATH car and found it on the back of my seat and got rid of it for me. I was allowed to continue my merry way spider free and unticketed, although my legs shook for hours.
I loathe spiders. They appear to know it, also. Anyway, I think that was the same policeman because he sort of grinned and waved me on.
The strain of speech
That’s not to say that pretentious people do not like hanging around Starbucks. When I was testing out my new laptop at Starbucks on Friday, I came across a very pretentious North American. He sat at the table beside mine, with both a laptop and a page of typed manuscript sitting in front of him. At a glance, he appeared to be about 35 years old. Judging by the typed manuscript, he was probably an English teacher putting way too much effort into his job.
The man’s voice first entered my head when he talked in Chinese on his mobile phone. His Chinese was not bad, but it was still jerky like the Chinese of most foreigners. He steadfastly tried to infuse humour into his speech, but it sounded more like arrogance. His tone of voice inferred that he was in complete control of his second language when in fact he sounded very much like a laowai. (I did not need to look at him because I knew a foreigner was speaking Chinese from his jerky way of speaking.)
At around 5:30pm, the man stood up and was preparing to leave Starbucks. Before he left, he stepped over to a nearby table and started up a conversation with a young woman. Speaking Chinese, he asked her what she was studying. “Business,” she replied in English. The man continued to speak in Chinese and the woman eventually said “your Chinese is really good.”
The whole episode made me feel uncomfortable. It seemed like the man was showing off his Chinese and fishing for compliments. I really do not think there is any reason to show off your Chinese in China. Do you really want to be compared to Dashan? In my opinion, Chinese people are not at ease with foreigners speaking their language with a decent level of proficiency. Two responses are likely – they will either deride your Chinese level by saying that you know ‘a little bit of Chinese’ or they will exaggerate your proficiency by saying that your Chinese is ‘incredible’ but the tone of their voice is always slightly condescending.
People like the man I encountered are living in a fairy world if they think it is worthwhile to show off their Chinese. I have really started to hate speaking Chinese – I cannot deal with the strain of conversing with someone who thinks it is strange to be talking to a laowai in their mother tongue. I also struggle with the false compliments. I know that my Mandarin is better than some people from Hong Kong, but I also know that they do not feel the same strain as me. They look like Chinese and that is the most important thing.
Not Fair!
It's a sign of how much I love the guy that I am even sitting at this computer, trying to write to him (I don't know whether he'll even get to read it but its the writing thats important).I am still housesitting at my mums and using her computer, which is a desktop, next to a large glass window.
Said window has a fucking huge grey and black spider walking all over it. It's at least 3 inches across and furry and fanged and legged and stripey and...... *shudders*......It's on the outside of the window but I'm not convinced that it definitely will stay there. The window is shut but these spiders are smart fuckers and probably have special breaking and entering skills.
In any case, it just KEEPS WALKING UP AND DOWN AND AROUND SO THAT I CAN SEE ALL OF ITS NASTY FURRY FANGED LOATHSOMENESS and I'm whimpering and cringing and not doing terribly well at all. I might also be crying a bit because I am terribly scaredy cat when it comes to these things and I'm consider that I've been strong and brave enough for quite a long time now, what with the situation of my boyfriend dying and all, and adding big fucking furry spiders with TEETH into the equation just seems too much.
Actually, forget whimpering and cringing and crying a bit. I am flat out howling. I have had enough.
My son's girlfriends mother passed away at home late last evening. She was only 47. She had been ill for many years, after her pregnancies her auto-immune system failed and finally last night her vital organs failed. What suffering she has been through. I feel so sad, her daughter is motherless at 16. Just when a girl needs her mum. I spent last night with my daughter at a family reunion with girls or my extended family, we went bowling at then out for pizza, us cousins hardley ever meet up but we made the effort to finally catch up and some of us with our daughters. I had a wonderful night, laughed, enjoyed my daughters company, felt such pride for her, felt happy. As I walked in the front door my son called to me from upstairs, he wanted me so I went up to him, he was in the bathroom getting ready to go to girlfriends house after getting the call from his girlfriend about her mothers passing. I was immediately devasted ....both mother and daughter will never again spent a night like I had passed, in each others company. I cried for them both.....what great losses for both of them. Mother won't see her daughter become a woman, all those joyous milestones, daughter cannot share them with her mother. What loss. Oh, of all the mercies I have had in life the most precious is seeing my children become adults, I am so grateful for that. I keep thinking how hard it must have been for the mother to have left behind her children....God...how cruel, to be robbed of that priveledge. Darling son. beautiful boy, his rock for his girl, I am so proud of him, his tenderness for her.
I am so sad today...so sad.
I'm sick of pretending that things are ok
Actually, mostly they are ok and I can deal with them. But tonight I'm not doing well at all.I'm on my own (my daughters have very intensive weekend social plans and I haven't told them the full story anyway - they just know he's not well). I'm on the other side of the world and I'm waiting, I'm just waiting.
I can't even try to be positive because I'm not the sort of person who is unrealistic and clings to tiny bright sparks of hope. I don't have any religious faith to cling to; to think that things might get better or that its all part of some divine plan. It must be comforting a little if you can believe that but I'm pragmatic and quite frankly, I can't see any way in which the loss of him will be better for either of us.
All can do is wait to hear. He's very ill.
Silly isn't it? I just wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice one last time; it has been such a long time since I've heard it, even though we've been in contact via email and online chat.
I wanted to be holding his hand when he died, to have him know how much I loved him. He does know that, of course, but I wanted to be there.
This came very suddenly; he was actually going to be released from hospital. We had a lovely online chat and talked about a little bit of a future. He had one last test to do and then they were letting him go. That last test triggered a massive attack. Although he didn't die immediately, he's not strong at all and it doesn't look like like he has the fortitude to recover from it.
So I sit here and I listen for the phone and I feel so helpless. There is nothing worse than not being able to do anything, anything at all. I thought I'd cried all my tears out; come to acceptance. I feel very much alone tonight.
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