[toybulldog]

@recluse wrote:

Also there was an unfinished story, strange and funny to read, and a
footpath by the river, dragonflies on the sleeve. Winter didn’t last long,
but everything got buried under the snow, and cold snowflakes that fell
between the lines washed out the ink to violet blots.
I remember that town, my town, with huge buildings and streets without end.
It was so easy to get lost there. Do you want me to tell you about myself?
Do you think I will manage to do it; link all the words in a long, long
chain? Like a funny toy train it will be. Puff puff, going in circles,
falling, its carriages splitting apart. An inquisitive eye through the
keyhole, but as if its forbidden to tell what you’ve seen, as if they can
punish you for that. And there, behind the door, the chairs are already in a
different place, but there is no new furniture in the room, and visitors are
not expected. Only those occasional guests, they may come, those to whom you
have given the keys, who wont find this old fashioned room strange.
There, outside, rain is rustling, turning the pages of days. And somewhere
near, here in the darkness Schubert plays his wonderful tunes. How easy it
is to meet misunderstanding, how difficult it is to be different from the
others. I wish to listen to you maestro. I want to hear you, you and the
silence.
It’s probably silly indeed to make a self portrait looking at yourself in
the mirror. The mirrors have that strange sin of not being able to tell you
the truth, never. Maybe its better to note just an occasional gesture, the
sigh, the slight nod of the head, recognise, and remember?
Thoughts are roaming around, bumping against the objects. And here is that
sound again, it was born in that fairy town. I know it, and often write
there, but the postman gives me my letters back and says he doesn’t know of
such a country. So, maybe to go there on foot? Do you remember the way, can
you go? Yes, I can go, I remember! Where are my boots for the trip? Where
are they? Where?

It may seem that everything you write you can write to a finish, with a dot
as a sign of the end. And to understand yourself, and to explain what the
violets smell like to someone who really wants explanations. But not. Blank
sheets of paper in huge piles, white colour piling up everywhere. Enormous
amounts of paper, of bricks, walls and windows. And you are in search of the
door, in search of the truth, of the sense.

Night street and somebody hurrying towards you. Hi! Who are you? Maybe it’s
me? And this route from myself to myself is nothing else, but a chain of
re-incarnations? Alikeness? No, you will scarcely be recognised. But is it
good or bad not to be recognised at all?

Changing of mood and seasons, the illusion of happiness, passion for
beautiful phrases and rhythm. Let everything be as it is. Ill have that
illusion back. When everyone else has gone, someone should stay behind. With
those remaining, we’ll have a long chat. And it won’t matter where they come
from, we will understand one another without a word. And maybe I’ll try
again to step on that path, to start that trip barefoot in the snow from the
very beginning, and it will all last long. And I will feel the gravity of
the earth, and leave traces after myself.

No, the work is bound not to be monumental, with the thoughts scrappy and
hopes easily fleeting away. Perhaps just a snap of the occasional camera? A
strange photo, with the edges torn, the picture vague indeed. A white spot
on a black background, with its form slightly resembling..Really? yes,
maybe. Anyway, nothing can be changed. The black and white essence will
always remain the same, and other parts you can paint or cover with
drawings. Afterwards, when the snow has gone, everything will look
different.

Composition, with no topic given, you can hardly find the plot. Turn of the
year as a retro style is completely out of place. A handful of orange
twilight. Path meeting the skyline. The photograph, to remind me of,,
myself.

[toybulldog]

@angelbabe wrote:

I got sent this today

It’s the Soldier, not the reporter
who has given us the freedom of the press.
It’s the Soldier, not the poet,
who has given us the freedom of speech.
It’s the Soldier, not the politicians
that ensures our right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.
It’s the Soldier who salutes the flag,
who serves beneath the flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the flag

well today I was looking at a job we had, to prepare a repair scheme for a vehicle back from Iraq. It had been subjected to an improvised mine attack, some boys buried a couple of artillery shells under the road and the vehicle went over and they blew it at the right time. Just another day in the lives of our troops, and their insurgents/freedom fighters/ terrorists. Pick whichever name you want.
The hole in the floor you could drop an armchair through without disturbing the cushions, the driver, who sat were th hole was took a couple of weeks to die, the rest of the crew lived in various states of shock and pain. Well thats why they get paid, or is it?
did those boys get a say in the ‘shall we shant we’ debate; and if they had would they have backed war or said ‘ not my fight’
well I was there at the beginning, and spoke to them, young and not so young, novice and veteran. And they had different views as you would expect. But not one ever said ‘ No’, and not for freedom or for Tony or George, nor Achmed either. They went and they fought, and yes died in some cases, for the men next to them in the line. They did what we told them to do, and did it well. Yes they have lost many good friends, and their will be more wheelchairs at the cenotaph over the next years, and more wet eyes.
But we can be proud, not that we sent them, but that they went. And whatever they get thrown at them, there will be no Lebanon run away for them, no ‘Blackhawk down; I’m off home’ they will stay till pulled out. Not for us, not for some overpaid and bloated bureaucrat at Brussels or London, or even Washington
but for the men who didnt come back in one piece, and who stood next to them in the line when the bullets flew
I am proud to have paid a very tiny part in their protection, and pray for them each night that they come home and are treated as the heroes they are

maybe you agree with me, maybe not, you have that right, as all of us do, because someone fought for it.

the email came from dad thought id share it with you

[toybulldog]

hey Happy Birthday rubes xx

but I’ve been guaranteed don’t you know. It’s shazza attached to your fan and you seem to have it on high speed………………..

[toybulldog]

actually now I think about it Mandy was a little bit dyslexic.

when she kept shouting OMG it may well have been a reference to my orchestral manouevres in the dark.

[toybulldog]

@forumhostpb wrote:

Ah …. souls!

LOL

and I have absolutely no idea of how to respond mims. I think what you posted was really funny. Or possibly very nasty.

It’s best that I stay here looking up “flock mentality” until somebody tells me what I should agree with, or maybe not (depending on the identity of the poster – because I am quite unable to read between the lines of things myself). Apparently there is a side to take. Well it’s all life for the living jim, but not as we know it. Heaven may be objective, but as captain kirk sang when he knocked the hoffmeister from the number one spot – Won’t You Roll Away the Stone.

While I am waiting would it be in order for me to make a rhubarb crumble ?

(goes into garden and insults nearest rhubarb)

[toybulldog]

thanky you magdy

but i am not thinking this sharongoonyperson best good idea. she is little bit semi,detached and weigh many tonns i am hearing . how strong is fan ?

[toybulldog]

it don’t matter john.

Anyway has anyone ever seen a tornado ? If I were to look out of the window and see multiple tunnel clouds forming I bet I would shi.t my pants right now. If I did the right drugs I would be able to look out of the window and see them even though they aren’t really there. I might still shi.t my pants though, so I’d have that going for me.

which is nice.

[toybulldog]

well look at it from my perspective johnnykins, why would I use human ones ?

[toybulldog]

you too abbie
xx

[toybulldog]

I can see how you and daggsy get on so well, you’re very alike.

[Author]

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