A reasonable use of intoxicating drink may appear all right ; like a rattlesnake after its fangs are in the flesh, it is all wrong.
The Kiama Independent, and Shoalhaven Advertiser
Dr Hake. 1876.
A PIPE OF TOBACCO
Little tube of mighty power,
Charmer of an idle hour,
Object of my warm desire,
Lip of wax, and eye of fire;
And thy snowy taper waist,
With my finger gently braced;
And thy pretty swelling crest,
With my little stopper pressed,
And the sweetest bliss of blisses,
Breathing from they balmy kisses.
Happy thrice and thrice again,
Happiest he of happy men.
Who when again the night returns,
When again the taper burns;
When again the cricket’s gay
(Little cricket, full of play),
Can afford his tube to feed
With the fragrant Indian weed;
Pleasure for a nose divine,
Incense of the god of wine.
Happy thrice, and thrice again
Happiest he of happy men.
-Isaac Hawkins Browne (1736)
Nishu Mathur, India
The old wizened wrinkled snake charmer, with a red turban on his head,
A khaki bag across his shoulders, a dhoti wrapped around his legs.
He traces his ancestors path, makes his way through dusty lanes,
Calling out through his flute, hoping to cast his spell again.
A coiled cobra wrapped in a basket… his livelihood he carries around,
No doubts, no fear, with his snake the snake charmer walks the town.
Curious chatter, a fascinated child yearns to see the snake rise,
Dancing to the charmer’s tune, a cobra or a viper mesmerized.
With the basket a distance away, the charmer sits crossed leg, his tune to play,
The snake slowly uncoils serpentine, moving to the flute, it starts to sway.
A crowd gathers and like the snake, it stands entranced with widened eyes,
The cobra dancing to the flute …with it’s movement, hypnotized.
The snake raises it’s head and lunges forward with a menacing hiss,
The snake charmer unperturbed plays his flute, and gives death a miss.
Coins, notes, come the charmer’s way…sighs, cheer, clear and loud,
A prayer in humble gratitude, the snake charmed, so the crowd.
He thought he saw an Elephant,
That practiced on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
“At length I realize,” he said,
“The bitterness of Life!”
Lewis Carroll, 1832–1898, Sylvie and Bruno
“If he’s not calling you, it’s because you are not on his mind. If he creates expectations for you, and then doesn’t follow through on little things, he will do same for big things. Be aware of this and realize that he’s okay with disappointing you. Don’t be with someone who doesn’t do what they say they’re going to do. If he’s choosing not to make a simple effort that would put you at ease and bring harmony to a recurring fight, then he doesn’t respect your feelings and needs. “Busy” is another word for “asshole.” “Asshole” is another word for the guy you’re dating. You deserve a fcking phone call.”
― Greg Behrendt
seeing a spider in the morning brings bad luck, seeing a spider in the evening brings good luck (a commonly cited French superstition)
Tenei ano a mutu, kei roto i tona whare-pungawerewere:
So evil intentions are hidden as a spider in his web.
‘The Bowery’ is a song from the musical A Trip to Chinatown with music by Percy Gaunt and lyrics by Charles H. Hoyt. The musical toured the country for several years and then opened on Broadway in 1891
“Walk the Bowery under the El at night and all you feel is a sort of cold guilt. Touched for a dime, you try to drop the coin and not touch the hand, because the hand is dirty; you try to avoid the glance, because the glance accuses. This is not so much personal menace as universal — the cold menace of unresolved human suffering and poverty and the advanced stages of the disease alcoholism.”
― E.B. White, Here Is New York
“In his dream, George Stetchkin was in the dock at the Central Criminal Court, accused of the murder of nine million innocent brain cells. The usher was showing the jury the alleged murder weapon, an empty Bison Brand vodka bottle. Then the judge glared at him over the rims of his spectacles and sentenced him to the worst hangover of his life.”
― Tom Holt, Blonde Bombshell
― Mary Roach, Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers
In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn’t read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn’t puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.
What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, “By gum, I’ve got the answer!”
“They want my bacon slice by slice
“To sell at a tremendous price!
“They want my tender juicy chops
“To put in all the butcher’s shops!
“They want my pork to make a roast
“And that’s the part’ll cost the most!
“They want my sausages in strings!
“They even want my chitterlings!
“The butcher’s shop! The carving knife!
“That is the reason for my life!”
Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great piece of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor…
Now comes the rather grizzly bit
So let’s not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.
Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
“I had a fairly powerful hunch
“That he might have me for his lunch.
“And so, because I feared the worst,
“I thought I’d better eat him first.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
we continue to spend fortunes on an stupefying array of distractions supposedly designed to make us happier than Liz Taylor at a wedding Cosmetics that contain everything from the placenta of unborn goats to a pound of pig fat mixed with volcanic ash and 19 secret ingredients from the rain forest diet products to remove mountains of blubber gained by stuffing ourselves because we are so damn miserable, and miserable because we are so horribly fat cosmetic surgery in every place from facial to other cheeks mind-numbing cruises to paradise luxury boats that never leave their luxury marinas hard drugs soft drugs alcohol anti-depressants uppers downers frenetic gambling to hit the big time jewellery that is too expensive to wear image marriages destined to last all of six months mink-lined designer toilet seats lottery tickets tobacco products we know will kill us and billions of tons of electronic and plastic and toxic junk that add nothing to our lives and create only clutter, pollution and landfill.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
“If you want to marry me, here’s what you’ll have to do:
You must learn how to make a perfect chicken-dumpling stew.
And you must sew my holey socks,
And soothe my troubled mind,
And develop the knack for scratching my back,
And keep my shoes spotlessly shined.
And while I rest you must rake up the leaves,
And when it is hailing and snowing
You must shovel the walk…and be still when I talk,
And-hey-where are you going?”
― Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends
“This was the first time he had seriously confronted what he was doing, and the force of that awareness came very abruptly – with a surging of his pulse and a frantic pounding in his head. He was about to gamble his life on that table, and the insanity of that risk filled him with a kind of awe.” Paul Auster, “The Music of Chance” (1990)
foto – izzy foreal and William white aka billy james at raleigh 2010
" One who is unrestrained in life – delusion overcomes; as the wind a weak tree." Buddha
foto – raleigh valley
‘ Fortitude in adversity, and moderation in pros- perity ; eloquence in the senate, and courage in the field; great glory in renown, and labour in study; are the natural perfections of great minds.’
foto – horse in raleigh paddock 2010.
Dancing With Delusion
by Eddie Thompson
A human being is a part of a whole, called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest. . . a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. ALBERT EINSTEIN.
In the twenty-fifth year of my age
I find myself to be a dromedary
That has run short of water between
One oasis and the next mirage
And having despaired of ever
Making my obsessions intelligible
I am content at last to be
The sole clerk of my metamorphoses.
foto – repton railway bridge dec 09