Things that ur happy about

[Yoghurt on a Stick]

1 hour ago, slash's hat said:

Thank you Yog.

I'm good at giving advice - actually following it is another matter. Though its not really procrastination that's the problem, its fear. Once I get through the fear then I'll crack on with whatever. I've gone to festivals and gigs on my own, which I never would have done before... why miss out just because mates can't get their arse in gear or want to go. However there are a couple of opportunities I've backed out of and regret doing so - but then we all carry regrets I guess, and maybe there was some celestial reason why I shouldn't have done it that I dont know about!

Anyway I'm glad to hear you are settled in your new abode, and hope you have much better luck from now on. I think I've said before that you are one of my favourite posters and love reading about your exploits through life - I would certainly say you've lived.

Hello Helen / slash's hat,

I'm a 7th Dan at giving sage advice out, the contents of which, I would never carry out myself. I'm far far too stupid to be carrying out any notions of sensibility like that! Talking of stupid, would you mind indulging this idiot by answering a question? May I ask if you are possibly second generation Irish? I know it's an odd question, but the fact is that, up to this point in time, the only Helen's I know are. I kind of need to know, to sort of maintain a 'full house'. I don't suppose that makes any sense to you or to anybody reading this. I'm not entirely sure that it makes sense to me! 

I think that I could go to a festival on my tod, but have never done so before. I'd never go to a gig on my own though, but then I can (honestly) count on one hand the number of gigs I've ever gone to. The most memorable of these was my attendance (with an older brother) at a matinee type event of OMD at the Odeon in Birmingham, many many moons ago ie just short of four decades ago. Bloody hell, I'm old. The reason why I'm still here, despite my valiant efforts to not be, eludes me. That must be a celestial thing too.

Anyway, thanks for your kind words about my life. I know that among my friends that my life isn't really that different. Then again, I guess I have to acknowledge that my mates aren't exactly 'normal' or what would majority wise consensually be described as such. I have, on occasion, been out with them while sober myself. It's a horrifying experience, and one which I never hope to repeat. 

This is probably the wrong thread, and you and feral, are probably the wrong people to say this to, but I'm not really one for holding back. The thing is, I was unhappy, internally, as a person for decades. Then my wife came along and made me happy and feel alive for the first time in my adult life. However, I have recently thought, on a handful of occasions (so far), that I've just had enough of living, and, at that in those moments in time, wanted to stop being alive. I know it's a selfish kind of thought,, but I can't really help negate it's existence. Anyway, and to blatantly plagiarize, maybe I've said too much, maybe I haven't said enough. Talking of which, I saw the footage of this for the first time recently. Totally amazing. 

 

[feral chile]

11 hours ago, grumpyhack said:

Had a good night out with our Glastonbury Gang, two of whos wives were diagnosed with breast cancer 10-12 years ago and are still going strong.

Incidentally, I used to teach creative writing and the advice I gave everyone was that you've got to enjoy writing for its own sake.  Never write hanging on to the hope of publication - remember J.K. Rowling got turned down by over a dozen publishers, so it shows how little publishers know.  If you do end up getting published that's a bonus.

For many people writing can be a great a form of therapy but be particularly careful with life stories.  Unless you are famous, the: "I was born in.... then I went to school.... then I went to uni....."  narratives can be very dull.  However accounts of what life was like at the time can be fascinating.  A now departed friend of mine Ken Blakemore wrote Sunnyside Down - Growing up in 1950s Britain"

https://www.ebay.co.uk/i/122329001915?chn=ps&dispItem=1&adgroupid=54253526584&rlsatarget=pla-371379277589&abcId=1128946&adtype=pla&merchantid=9894804&poi=&googleloc=9045367&device=c&campaignid=857251143&crdt=0

I really recommend it.  He used to be a uni lecturer in Social Policy and he carried that over to his book with a chapter on the food people used to eat, a chapter on travel and getting around, a chapter on the world of work etc and it's absolutely riveting.

https://www.waterstones.com/book/sunnyside-down/ken-blakemore/9780750945356

 

It's knowing I'm nowhere near good enough to get published that stops me writing. I realise now that's a silly attitude. I can't dance either but try stopping me!

[feral chile]

15 minutes ago, Yoghurt on a Stick said:

Hello Helen / slash's hat,

I'm a 7th Dan at giving sage advice out, the contents of which, I would never carry out myself. I'm far far too stupid to be carrying out any notions of sensibility like that! Talking of stupid, would you mind indulging this idiot by answering a question? May I ask if you are possibly second generation Irish? I know it's an odd question, but the fact is that, up to this point in time, the only Helen's I know are. I kind of need to know, to sort of maintain a 'full house'. I don't suppose that makes any sense to you or to anybody reading this. I'm not entirely sure that it makes sense to me! 

I think that I could go to a festival on my tod, but have never done so before. I'd never go to a gig on my own though, but then I can (honestly) count on one hand the number of gigs I've ever gone to. The most memorable of these was my attendance (with an older brother) at a matinee type event of OMD at the Odeon in Birmingham, many many moons ago ie just short of four decades ago. Bloody hell, I'm old. The reason why I'm still here, despite my valiant efforts to not be, eludes me. That must be a celestial thing too.

Anyway, thanks for your kind words about my life. I know that among my friends that my life isn't really that different. Then again, I guess I have to acknowledge that my mates aren't exactly 'normal' or what would majority wise consensually be described as such. I have, on occasion, been out with them while sober myself. It's a horrifying experience, and one which I never hope to repeat. 

This is probably the wrong thread, and you and feral, are probably the wrong people to say this to, but I'm not really one for holding back. The thing is, I was unhappy, internally, as a person for decades. Then my wife came along and made me happy and feel alive for the first time in my adult life. However, I have recently thought, on a handful of occasions (so far), that I've just had enough of living, and, at that in those moments in time, wanted to stop being alive. I know it's a selfish kind of thought,, but I can't really help negate it's existence. Anyway, and to blatantly plagiarize, maybe I've said too much, maybe I haven't said enough. Talking of which, I saw the footage of this for the first time recently. Totally amazing. 

 

I know this sounds banal, but can you sleep/switch off? Your mind needs to rest. It will find a way to escape reality one way or another otherwise. There are a few ways it can just give up.

[slash's hat]

1 hour ago, Yoghurt on a Stick said:

Hello Helen / slash's hat,

I'm a 7th Dan at giving sage advice out, the contents of which, I would never carry out myself. I'm far far too stupid to be carrying out any notions of sensibility like that! Talking of stupid, would you mind indulging this idiot by answering a question? May I ask if you are possibly second generation Irish? I know it's an odd question, but the fact is that, up to this point in time, the only Helen's I know are. I kind of need to know, to sort of maintain a 'full house'. I don't suppose that makes any sense to you or to anybody reading this. I'm not entirely sure that it makes sense to me! 

I think that I could go to a festival on my tod, but have never done so before. I'd never go to a gig on my own though, but then I can (honestly) count on one hand the number of gigs I've ever gone to. The most memorable of these was my attendance (with an older brother) at a matinee type event of OMD at the Odeon in Birmingham, many many moons ago ie just short of four decades ago. Bloody hell, I'm old. The reason why I'm still here, despite my valiant efforts to not be, eludes me. That must be a celestial thing too.

Anyway, thanks for your kind words about my life. I know that among my friends that my life isn't really that different. Then again, I guess I have to acknowledge that my mates aren't exactly 'normal' or what would majority wise consensually be described as such. I have, on occasion, been out with them while sober myself. It's a horrifying experience, and one which I never hope to repeat. 

This is probably the wrong thread, and you and feral, are probably the wrong people to say this to, but I'm not really one for holding back. The thing is, I was unhappy, internally, as a person for decades. Then my wife came along and made me happy and feel alive for the first time in my adult life. However, I have recently thought, on a handful of occasions (so far), that I've just had enough of living, and, at that in those moments in time, wanted to stop being alive. I know it's a selfish kind of thought,, but I can't really help negate it's existence. Anyway, and to blatantly plagiarize, maybe I've said too much, maybe I haven't said enough. Talking of which, I saw the footage of this for the first time recently. Totally amazing. 

 

Regrettably I have to ruin your full house as I am very much of Gloucestershire & Worcestershire heritage.

I always used to be terrified of growing old (not suggesting you are old). I would see my grandparents and think I dont want to end up like that, seemed like existing rather than living. I guess I should have been careful in what I wished for! I do understand the thoughts you've had about having had enough of life- it can be cruel at times. For me its about having a reason to keep going with treatments and surgeries, and that reason is my kids who are all still secondary school age - that doesn't mean I haven't had those thoughts at my lowest times though.

Blimey this is getting a bit morbid for the happy thread. 

p.s Absolutely love that song.

 

[Yoghurt on a Stick]

Hello feral / slash's hat,

Apologies for the downer earlier. You are right feral, in that I needed some sleep. I'm OK now.

Slash's hat - No worries on the full house front. It was only one of my mad thoughts, is all.

Anyway, all is well again. 

Thanks both.

[grumpyhack]

8 hours ago, feral chile said:

It's knowing I'm nowhere near good enough to get published that stops me writing. I realise now that's a silly attitude. I can't dance either but try stopping me!

What kind of writing are you wanting to do Feral?

[Yoghurt on a Stick]

23 minutes ago, grumpyhack said:

What kind of writing are you wanting to do Feral?

I'd be interested in your answer to this too. 

[feral chile]

I used to enjoy writing poetry. Anything really. Language has power. The way you say things affects how your message is perceived. It has an affect on the person receiving the message. I'd maybe want to get involved in writing things that spread a bit of joy, blogs or little articles.

A verbal smile and hug, if you like.

I'd really like to move people, and myself, to support each other.

Edited October 28, 2017 by feral chile

[feral chile]

1 hour ago, Yoghurt on a Stick said:

Hello feral / slash's hat,

Apologies for the downer earlier. You are right feral, in that I needed some sleep. I'm OK now.

Slash's hat - No worries on the full house front. It was only one of my mad thoughts, is all.

Anyway, all is well again. 

Thanks both.

I don't want to go into it here, but when my mind can't decide or make sense of something, when it gets stuck in a loop and sleep is elusive or unrestful - there have been times when my mind has had a mind of its own and opted out. 

And with fatigue, I caught myself thinking I'd do anything to get some rest. Fatigue is a dreadful thing to live with.

Edited October 28, 2017 by feral chile

[grumpyhack]

I enjoy some poetry as I think of it as the 'condensed milk' of writing, an awful lot said in just a few words.

One of my favourites is Motherless Babies by Christina Rossetti.

Motherless babies and babyless mothers

Put them together to love one another.

Just two lines that say a lot - especially to people who've been involved in adoption.

[feral chile]

10 hours ago, grumpyhack said:

I enjoy some poetry as I think of it as the 'condensed milk' of writing, an awful lot said in just a few words.

One of my favourites is Motherless Babies by Christina Rossetti.

Motherless babies and babyless mothers

Put them together to love one another.

Just two lines that say a lot - especially to people who've been involved in adoption.

Yes that's what I like about poetry. The authors I like are Philip Pullman and Jonathan Stroud, I'm in awe of Suzanne Vega's lyrics, and so I stopped writing in the shadow of that sort of talent.

I didn't give up dancing because of lack of ability though.

Poetry suits me better as it suitsmy style. I condense things in real life, cut through all the padding to get at the truth of something. That's good for poems and lyrics, and informative articles, but not for the rich tapestry of novels.

[slash's hat]

Maybe I've never been exposed to the right poetry for me, but my experience from school was that I hated it with a passion. Unpicking every line of "The Lady of Shallot" was like scratching nails along a blackboard! I remember my teacher saying to my parents "she would be an A student if got over her dislike for poetry" - needless to say I got a B! Though I did enjoy Shakespeare so maybe not a total heathen!

Back on a slightly morbid theme I was thinking of what music I would like at my funeral, and trying out some of my choices as a reading rather than playing the song, but yet to find something that really works.

There is a lady that goes around our Chemo waiting area - they never run on time - and she likes to chat to people, find out about them and where there at etc then personalise a poem. On explaining this to me I declined, but did think what a nice thing to do.

 

[feral chile]

4 hours ago, slash's hat said:

Maybe I've never been exposed to the right poetry for me, but my experience from school was that I hated it with a passion. Unpicking every line of "The Lady of Shallot" was like scratching nails along a blackboard! I remember my teacher saying to my parents "she would be an A student if got over her dislike for poetry" - needless to say I got a B! Though I did enjoy Shakespeare so maybe not a total heathen!

Back on a slightly morbid theme I was thinking of what music I would like at my funeral, and trying out some of my choices as a reading rather than playing the song, but yet to find something that really works.

There is a lady that goes around our Chemo waiting area - they never run on time - and she likes to chat to people, find out about them and where there at etc then personalise a poem. On explaining this to me I declined, but did think what a nice thing to do.

 

I'm not a believer so my funeral music would likely be something rebelliously humorous.

Edited October 29, 2017 by feral chile

[slash's hat]

2 hours ago, feral chile said:

I'm not a believer so my funeral music would likely be something rebelliously humorous.

What I'd really like to do is have no talking whatsoever and make a playlist for half hour or however long. Just so my loved ones can endure my taste in music one more time - they can fondly remember me screeching along. A captive audience for my first and last DJ performance 

To fit in the discussion topic - this idea makes me happy. Shame I won't be there to witness the scene.

Edited October 29, 2017 by slash's hat

[grumpyhack]

Back to poetry for a moment.  A technique that can really work is to write a poem that begins every line with the same word or phrase.  The joy is that it doesn't have to rhyme or even scan, which in itself can be very freeing.  What it does is focus your mind on wonderful images.

This is an example from  Adrian Henri, one of the now departed Liverpool poets, along with people like Roger McGough. It was written as a love poem for his girlfriend.

Without You

Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it,
Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper,
Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties,
Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows,
Without you I'd spend my summers picking morosely over the remains of train crashes,
Without you white birds would wrench themselves free from my paintings and fly off dripping blood into the night,
Without you green apples wouldn't taste greener,
Without you Mothers wouldn't let their children play out after tea,
Without you every musician in the world would forget how to play the blues,
Without you Public Houses would be public again,
Without you the Sunday Times colour supplement would come out in black-and-white,
Without you indifferent colonels would shrug their shoulders and press the button,
Without you they'd stop changing the flowers in Piccadilly Gardens,
Without you Clark Kent would forget how to become Superman,
Without you Sunshine Breakfast would only consist of Cornflakes,
Without you there'd be no colour in Magic colouring books,
Without you Mahler's 8th would only be performed by street musicians in derelict houses,
Without you they'd forget to put the salt in every packet of crisps,
Without you it would be an offence punishable by a fine of up to £200 or two months' imprisonment to be found in possession of curry powder,
Without you riot police are massing in quiet side streets,
Without you all streets would be one-way the other way,
Without you there'd be no one to kiss goodnight when we quarrel,
Without you the first Martian to land would turn round and go away again,
Without you they'd forget to change the weather,
Without you blind men would sell unlucky heather,
Without you there would be
no landscapes/no stations/no houses
no chip shops/no quiet villages/no seagulls
on beaches/no hopscotch on pavements/no night/no morning/
there'd be no city no country
Without you.

Adrian Henri

 

[Yoghurt on a Stick]

9 hours ago, slash's hat said:

Maybe I've never been exposed to the right poetry for me, but my experience from school was that I hated it with a passion. Unpicking every line of "The Lady of Shallot" was like scratching nails along a blackboard! I remember my teacher saying to my parents "she would be an A student if got over her dislike for poetry" - needless to say I got a B! Though I did enjoy Shakespeare so maybe not a total heathen!

Back on a slightly morbid theme I was thinking of what music I would like at my funeral, and trying out some of my choices as a reading rather than playing the song, but yet to find something that really works.

There is a lady that goes around our Chemo waiting area - they never run on time - and she likes to chat to people, find out about them and where there at etc then personalise a poem. On explaining this to me I declined, but did think what a nice thing to do.

 

I'm kind of with you on the poetry thing. I seem to have a 'natural' distaste for it. That said, I've never really been exposed to a lot of it - for reasons unknown to me,  I (and many others) weren't allowed to study English literature at school to an exam level. I suppose I could have made up for that by studying it myself, but any foray in to that area has put me off. Mind you, I was exposed to the following poem, which probably isn't a brilliant poem in the truest sense of the word, but is clever;

Worst Day Ever?

Today was the absolute worst day ever
And don’t try to convince me that
There’s something good in every day
Because, when you take a closer look,
This world is a pretty evil place.
Even if
Some goodness does shine through once in a while
Satisfaction and happiness don’t last.
And it’s not true that
It’s all in the mind and heart
Because
True happiness can be attained
Only if one’s surroundings are good
It’s not true that good exists
I’m sure you can agree that
The reality
Creates
My attitude
It’s all beyond my control
And you’ll never in a million years hear me say

Today was a very good day

Now read the poem backwards.

[feral chile]

6 hours ago, Yoghurt on a Stick said:

I'm kind of with you on the poetry thing. I seem to have a 'natural' distaste for it. That said, I've never really been exposed to a lot of it - for reasons unknown to me,  I (and many others) weren't allowed to study English literature at school to an exam level. I suppose I could have made up for that by studying it myself, but any foray in to that area has put me off. Mind you, I was exposed to the following poem, which probably isn't a brilliant poem in the truest sense of the word, but is clever;

Worst Day Ever?

Today was the absolute worst day ever
And don’t try to convince me that
There’s something good in every day
Because, when you take a closer look,
This world is a pretty evil place.
Even if
Some goodness does shine through once in a while
Satisfaction and happiness don’t last.
And it’s not true that
It’s all in the mind and heart
Because
True happiness can be attained
Only if one’s surroundings are good
It’s not true that good exists
I’m sure you can agree that
The reality
Creates
My attitude
It’s all beyond my control
And you’ll never in a million years hear me say

Today was a very good day

Now read the poem backwards.

Oh I love this one. It was written by a 14  year old girl wasn't it.

This completely expresses how I function. Flip things round to the positive.

[feral chile]

1 hour ago, feral chile said:

Oh I love this one. It was written by a 14  year old girl wasn't it.

This completely expresses how I function. Flip things round to the positive.

As an example, years ago I suffered from extreme death anxiety. It was when my first child was born and I realised I couldn't protect her from mortality. I just kept thinking death anxiety is survival instinct. Over and over till the panic subsided.

[slash's hat]

I do like the cleverness in that one I must admit.

[feral chile]

42 minutes ago, slash's hat said:

I do like the cleverness in that one I must admit.

It's amazing. I'm in awe of the mind who could create it.

[feral chile]

Chanie Gorkin was the poet.

Edited October 30, 2017 by feral chile

[Yoghurt on a Stick]

13 hours ago, feral chile said:

Chanie Gorkin was the poet.

And don't he know it?

 

I'll get me coat. 

Oh, how kind of you, you've got it for me. 

How considerate. 

[Yoghurt on a Stick]

I've just read the lyrics to a song in their entirety.  Not something I do very often, by any method of measurement that could be applied. Anyway, to me it reads like a poem. Perhaps all records do that. I don't know the answer to that one really. Anyway, here's the 'poem';

it's cold outside
and the paint's peeling off of my walls
there's a man outside
in a long coat, grey hat, smoking a cigarette

now the light fades out
and i'm wondering what i'm doing in a room like this
there's a knock on the door
and just for a second i thought i remembered you

so now i'm alone
now i can think for myself
about little deals
and S.U.'s
and things that i just don't understand
like a white lie that night
or a slight touch at times
i don't think it meant anything to you

so i open the door
it's the `friend' that i'd left in the hallway
"please sit down"
a candle lit a shadow on a wall near the bed

you know i hate to ask
but are `friends' electric?
only mine's broke down
and now i've no one to love

so i find out your reason
for the phone calls and smiles
and it hurts 
and i'm lonely
and i should never have tried
and i missed you tonight
so it's time to leave
you see it meant everything to me

 

 

And then there's this to consider too (see below). If not poetry, then true art. Surely.

 

 

[feral chile]

I think the best songs are poems, it's the sort of stuff I used to write rather than highbrow stuff. I'll post some early Suzanne Vega in a minute, for those unfamiliar.

[feral chile]

The Queen & The Soldier

Suzanne Vega

The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door
He said, "I am not fighting for you any more"
The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.

He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill
And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why."

Down in the long narrow hall he was led
Into her rooms with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
She asked him there to sit down.

He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young
But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won
And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun
And now will you tell me why?"

Well the young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"
But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.

And she said, "I have swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I've bled"
He laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.

"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed
But I won't march again on your battlefield"
And he took her to the window to see.

And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.

And he said, "I want to live as an honest man
To get all I deserve and to give all I can
And to love a young woman who I don't understand
Your highness, your ways are very strange."

But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait
She would only be a moment inside.

Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the queen went on strangling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on.