0008 ~ Life, Death and the Then-after
The trouble with depression is that it steals your words.
Weariness is a by-product and one has to fight against it with all one's might.
So learn with me, this night, when words are coming far too slowly for a story to begin.
I have two alarms to tell me to go to bed. The second one has just gone off. But I have a minute or two before I have to obey my rules.
When one gets to the unproductive stage one has to find a diversion that is not taxing. This is not easy because most movies are about the world as it is, and will become - if we don't find a way to love one another. Since that is hardly likely in the near future, a bunch of us have to keep the shiny side up, which works better in Afrikaans. "Hou die blink kant bo."
No matter which language one uses, one is not sure what it is that has a dull side and a shiny side. I'm thinking it must have something to do with steel. Pots maybe. Not very useful.
Everyone is jealous of Putin and Mugabe. They want to rule a country forever, Ruining it in the process is fine. Allegedly, or apparently, because the consequences of these life-timers leave a nation helplessly unemployed.
Why? I have no time to unravel that idea.
I have been drawing chimps with lots of hair, with a pencil, which takes hours, while listening to CNN which is a real anti-Trump network, not that I sympathise with Trump, but they do tend to bait their guests to say the thing they want to push home to their nation. Luckily, even the oldest Prime Minister in the world sidestepped that trick nicely.
However, the man in question has made at least one remark in one grandiose speech that he could try that, which at the time I think he was referring to the North Korean chap who is as bent on dying on the job, or retiring when ...
So midst the personal loss of my beloved Aunty, working long shifts, losing our fabulous Priest who was recalled to India and nursing a darling old lady, the news has been no help.
Remedy: Red 2. Not a great movie, but enough to cheer me up while I practice my new save-my-lungs smoking machine. IQOS. Weird name for a nice Marlboro product that gives you just enough of a puff to satisfy the thinking process, cigarettes being more about a thing to do than the nicotine, in my opinion, which is unproven by experts.
So, my Aunty died. That was just sadder than sad. I love her dearly. The Priest I love as dearly is also a loss, almost like death; I am not likely to see him again. I could, of course, go to India, but that would be a mad thing to do.
Weariness is a by-product and one has to fight against it with all one's might.
So learn with me, this night, when words are coming far too slowly for a story to begin.
I have two alarms to tell me to go to bed. The second one has just gone off. But I have a minute or two before I have to obey my rules.
When one gets to the unproductive stage one has to find a diversion that is not taxing. This is not easy because most movies are about the world as it is, and will become - if we don't find a way to love one another. Since that is hardly likely in the near future, a bunch of us have to keep the shiny side up, which works better in Afrikaans. "Hou die blink kant bo."
No matter which language one uses, one is not sure what it is that has a dull side and a shiny side. I'm thinking it must have something to do with steel. Pots maybe. Not very useful.
Everyone is jealous of Putin and Mugabe. They want to rule a country forever, Ruining it in the process is fine. Allegedly, or apparently, because the consequences of these life-timers leave a nation helplessly unemployed.
Why? I have no time to unravel that idea.
I have been drawing chimps with lots of hair, with a pencil, which takes hours, while listening to CNN which is a real anti-Trump network, not that I sympathise with Trump, but they do tend to bait their guests to say the thing they want to push home to their nation. Luckily, even the oldest Prime Minister in the world sidestepped that trick nicely.
However, the man in question has made at least one remark in one grandiose speech that he could try that, which at the time I think he was referring to the North Korean chap who is as bent on dying on the job, or retiring when ...
So midst the personal loss of my beloved Aunty, working long shifts, losing our fabulous Priest who was recalled to India and nursing a darling old lady, the news has been no help.
Remedy: Red 2. Not a great movie, but enough to cheer me up while I practice my new save-my-lungs smoking machine. IQOS. Weird name for a nice Marlboro product that gives you just enough of a puff to satisfy the thinking process, cigarettes being more about a thing to do than the nicotine, in my opinion, which is unproven by experts.
So, my Aunty died. That was just sadder than sad. I love her dearly. The Priest I love as dearly is also a loss, almost like death; I am not likely to see him again. I could, of course, go to India, but that would be a mad thing to do.
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