Sunday, 3 November 2013
Monday, 8 April 2013
It happened. The lone hours I've spent sitting here at my computer, thinking about this, that, the other, all and sundry, have paid off. I've achieved a not insignificant realisation, though not in a dramatic way. It's no epiphany. Not a bright light in sight, no ecstasy or profound sense of knowing. On the contrary, it was more a gentle prompting from my subconscious, a kind of whisper that could easily have been overlooked had something else vied for my attention. But it was a rare perfect moment. No TV. No external noise. Even the cat had ceased purring. Only the rhythmic ticking of the clock (giving emphasis to the silence) and my thoughts, occupied my space. And then it came.
I'm a victim. A casualty of calcified thinking. The world, and in particular, my local environment, may change on a daily basis, but how I deal with it doesn't. My thoughts, of the world, and in particular, myself, are set. I'm limited to a small set of precepts.
Not much of a Eureka moment, I confess, and nothing that hasn't been covered countless times in books and inspirational quotes. Indeed, I've held this knowledge for many years, but what makes it different now is that it applies to me! Hitherto, I thought it applied to others only, that whilst they viewed the world through the lens of their bias and prejudice, I had a privileged standpoint, a much broader and deeper perspective. Well, that's not true. My outlook is narrow. And though I've always called myself a realist, in truth, I've been a cynic. Of the worst kind.
It's not for me speculate on the motives and feelings of others. If I need to know, I should ask. Who better to inform me? Cynicism? A vile form of arrogance!
So... what do I do now? I have no idea.
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Saturday, 12 January 2013
Friday, 11 January 2013
Friday, 19 October 2012
Saturday, 29 September 2012
Rosie is dead. Janet took her to the vets earlier today. The decision to terminate her life was relatively easy. She was weak. She was almost certainly in pain. She was in extreme old age.
It's sad. I've shed tears. What else to say? I don't subscribe to any dubious theory of an after-life... serious talk of this nature leaves me exasperated. You can't know, you fuckers, so what do you prattle on for? It's all very simple. Life is animated. If it ceases to be so, we call this death. All communication with the unfortunate (or fortunate depending on their circumstances) ceases. That's it.
I shall try to avoid using cliches regarding her death, saying only, and no doubt inappropriately (after all, she was a cat, dammit) she was a good girl.
How strange to be without a furry dependent.