A Heart beat Away
In California
Dreaming of you
Separated by thousands of miles
But closer than ever
A heart beat away
I carry you in side me
A heart beat away
Am I inside you?
A heart beat away
For I am missing bits of me
A heart beat away
The older I get the more scattered I feel
A heart beat away
One of these days the wind will come for me
A heart beat away
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
The Boss meets with Q again
The Boss meets with Q his spiritual adviser
- Hi Q
- Hi Boss, long time no see
- Yes, well (the Boss squirms ion his chair) I’ve been busy…
- There’s no need to justify
- No… no but it’s true
- So what brings you here today?
- I have been wrestling with serious illness and death and what it means
- Hmm
- I have realised though it is hard to accept that I can’t do anything about death – it is inevitable - and I don’t believe in physical resurrection... maybe my soul or spirit continues but I think it’s Heaven or Hell split polarised like that. I am more inclined to Carl Jung’s idea that if there is an after life it is rather like this one…
- You sound pretty figured about all this
- Sound yes, thought out maybe, but it doesn’t feel that way at all. I am scared of death even though if it is the end I wont be there to be scared of it. I am scared of dying though it is inevitable, I am sacred of the pain of it and most of all I am scared of becoming older and frailer
- I here a lot of fear there
- Sure and I see friends of mine becoming frailer and I think what’s the point of that? Why can’t we all just die in our sleep?
- Good question
- And?
- Look it is clearly not what happens
- Yes I know that (the Boss begin to get grumpy)!
- Can you not accept that even increasing frailty could be purposeful?
- It’s hard especially when it involves me directly or indirectly
- True but you will just (‘just!’ interjected the Boss) you will just have to live with it
- OK…OK but that still doesn’t explain it
- I know, I guess we are asked to surrender to what it is
- Not that damn word ‘surrender’ again. I am sick of surrender
- What is is what is
- OK Q but you don’t have to be so smug and gnomic
- I think I would insulting your intelligence to suggest that karma might be being resolved
- And in any case if God is so compassionate and merciful why do any of us suffer?
- Death, frailty and now suffering!
- Yes Q
- I know it is a challenge to faith but the world is as it is and we have to find a way of best living with what it and raging against the inevitable is probably rather futile
- A bit of rage never hurt anyone!
- Makes a change from fear
- Rage, rage against the dying light!
- Why not… and afterwards?
- Peace
They fell into a deep silence. In its depth the questions and challenges fell away. The Boss became blissful fro no reason other than the experience of the silence. At last he had an answer to his nagging questions as they dissolved in the silence.
[As told to me this morning]
- Hi Q
- Hi Boss, long time no see
- Yes, well (the Boss squirms ion his chair) I’ve been busy…
- There’s no need to justify
- No… no but it’s true
- So what brings you here today?
- I have been wrestling with serious illness and death and what it means
- Hmm
- I have realised though it is hard to accept that I can’t do anything about death – it is inevitable - and I don’t believe in physical resurrection... maybe my soul or spirit continues but I think it’s Heaven or Hell split polarised like that. I am more inclined to Carl Jung’s idea that if there is an after life it is rather like this one…
- You sound pretty figured about all this
- Sound yes, thought out maybe, but it doesn’t feel that way at all. I am scared of death even though if it is the end I wont be there to be scared of it. I am scared of dying though it is inevitable, I am sacred of the pain of it and most of all I am scared of becoming older and frailer
- I here a lot of fear there
- Sure and I see friends of mine becoming frailer and I think what’s the point of that? Why can’t we all just die in our sleep?
- Good question
- And?
- Look it is clearly not what happens
- Yes I know that (the Boss begin to get grumpy)!
- Can you not accept that even increasing frailty could be purposeful?
- It’s hard especially when it involves me directly or indirectly
- True but you will just (‘just!’ interjected the Boss) you will just have to live with it
- OK…OK but that still doesn’t explain it
- I know, I guess we are asked to surrender to what it is
- Not that damn word ‘surrender’ again. I am sick of surrender
- What is is what is
- OK Q but you don’t have to be so smug and gnomic
- I think I would insulting your intelligence to suggest that karma might be being resolved
- And in any case if God is so compassionate and merciful why do any of us suffer?
- Death, frailty and now suffering!
- Yes Q
- I know it is a challenge to faith but the world is as it is and we have to find a way of best living with what it and raging against the inevitable is probably rather futile
- A bit of rage never hurt anyone!
- Makes a change from fear
- Rage, rage against the dying light!
- Why not… and afterwards?
- Peace
They fell into a deep silence. In its depth the questions and challenges fell away. The Boss became blissful fro no reason other than the experience of the silence. At last he had an answer to his nagging questions as they dissolved in the silence.
[As told to me this morning]
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
California and deep fried Mars bars
So the team of questers - me, Dori, David (Smith)and Megan who was co-opted - were on the case in Asilomar in California and surrounding towns (Monterrey, Carmel etc). The first view was that we should find something disgusting but also healthy to give it a Californian spin.
So we tried Kombucha which not only tastes a bit weird - think of the health drink Purdies but with a somewhat exaggerated and gingery taste, and it is fermented (or gone off!) tea but it has many horrid floating bits in it which they call 'buggers' (Yes I did point out that this word has other sexual meanings in English if not American) meaning of course 'boogies' (or to you snot). So it hits the spot(!) for looks and probably taste... Deep Fried Rating of 7.5 out of 10
David talked about Smoors which I did not find convincing until the final night of the conference when over an open fire Smoors were made. It goes like this: you get several marshmallows. Put them on a skewer and toast them over an open fire. Meanwhile get a Hershey bar or some similar chocolate put it on a cracker, add the hot soggy marshmallow and apply another cracker and squeeze them together. Eat the gooey mess. It has a somewhat similar overly sweet disgusting taste to a deep fired Mars bar if it does lacks the batter... Deep fried rating 8.5 out of 10.
You may think different or may have other 'deep fried moments' to tell us about!
So we tried Kombucha which not only tastes a bit weird - think of the health drink Purdies but with a somewhat exaggerated and gingery taste, and it is fermented (or gone off!) tea but it has many horrid floating bits in it which they call 'buggers' (Yes I did point out that this word has other sexual meanings in English if not American) meaning of course 'boogies' (or to you snot). So it hits the spot(!) for looks and probably taste... Deep Fried Rating of 7.5 out of 10
David talked about Smoors which I did not find convincing until the final night of the conference when over an open fire Smoors were made. It goes like this: you get several marshmallows. Put them on a skewer and toast them over an open fire. Meanwhile get a Hershey bar or some similar chocolate put it on a cracker, add the hot soggy marshmallow and apply another cracker and squeeze them together. Eat the gooey mess. It has a somewhat similar overly sweet disgusting taste to a deep fired Mars bar if it does lacks the batter... Deep fried rating 8.5 out of 10.
You may think different or may have other 'deep fried moments' to tell us about!
Sunday, 13 June 2010
In search of a deep fried Mars bar
[A true story]
The quest was on. Before I knew it I had gathered around me a disparate group of Brits and Yanks all seeking the Holy Grail of a deep fried Mars bar. But this was genteel Edinburgh - not Glasgow the home of the deep fried Mars and even deep fried Pizzas.
So leaving the pub and our songs behind we set off. It was about 11.30 on a hot June evening. We passed 3 chip shops none of which could fulfil our quest. My companions were beginning to get mean and restless and doubted the veracity of my story. I even doubted whether Edinburgh could reach these culinary heights (or was it depth?) of Glasgow. But the 4th chip shop did. It even offered a variety of deep fried produce. Indeed, it seemed willing to deep fry almost anything - including Snickers!
So I ordered one and the six of us watched as the Mars bar was unwrapped and dipped into the batter and then carefully lowered into the hot fat. A few minutes later it was done. The golden coloured batter was lovely and crisp to the taste and the Mars bar was all gooey and molten. We all in turn took a bite. Some reckoned it was little hot chocolate sauce and quite pleasant. I found it a bit sickly frankly.
I wouldn't have missed our quest for the world. But I wouldn't do it again!
The quest was on. Before I knew it I had gathered around me a disparate group of Brits and Yanks all seeking the Holy Grail of a deep fried Mars bar. But this was genteel Edinburgh - not Glasgow the home of the deep fried Mars and even deep fried Pizzas.
So leaving the pub and our songs behind we set off. It was about 11.30 on a hot June evening. We passed 3 chip shops none of which could fulfil our quest. My companions were beginning to get mean and restless and doubted the veracity of my story. I even doubted whether Edinburgh could reach these culinary heights (or was it depth?) of Glasgow. But the 4th chip shop did. It even offered a variety of deep fried produce. Indeed, it seemed willing to deep fry almost anything - including Snickers!
So I ordered one and the six of us watched as the Mars bar was unwrapped and dipped into the batter and then carefully lowered into the hot fat. A few minutes later it was done. The golden coloured batter was lovely and crisp to the taste and the Mars bar was all gooey and molten. We all in turn took a bite. Some reckoned it was little hot chocolate sauce and quite pleasant. I found it a bit sickly frankly.
I wouldn't have missed our quest for the world. But I wouldn't do it again!
Monday, 31 May 2010
Old poem
Way back in 1973 I wrote a poem that was published in an duplicated poetry magazine called Vole. In 1987 in a house fire a lot of poetry and books were burnt but I saved some scorched poetry magazines. In 1995 I threw away all the poetry I had written along with some unpublishable novels etc. Then of course a few years ago I started writing poetry again and wished I hadn't burnt my stuff. Two weeks ago I remembered the scorched magazine and I performed the following poem yesterday (and 10 days ago at Manky poets)
Some P Poems
'Nothin's gonna change my world'
you did
Cliches are useless
I have lost you
I'll mail me through the post
For I am a poem
Je suis un objet poetic
It was early very early
And I walked the streets
Of Calais crying
No longer have I you
All I have is the experience
In no way can our love
Be wiped out
It is stronger than our memories
Longer than our lives
Nothing can stop it
To travel is to suffer
At times
To live is to suffer
I love to live
I live to love
Love
Imagine me walking the streets of Calais
at 5 in the morning
Tears streaming my face
Imagine me asleep on the ferry
& awakening to find you
Not with me
Imagine you and me
Together again
Imagine love
Some P Poems
'Nothin's gonna change my world'
you did
Cliches are useless
I have lost you
I'll mail me through the post
For I am a poem
Je suis un objet poetic
It was early very early
And I walked the streets
Of Calais crying
No longer have I you
All I have is the experience
In no way can our love
Be wiped out
It is stronger than our memories
Longer than our lives
Nothing can stop it
To travel is to suffer
At times
To live is to suffer
I love to live
I live to love
Love
Imagine me walking the streets of Calais
at 5 in the morning
Tears streaming my face
Imagine me asleep on the ferry
& awakening to find you
Not with me
Imagine you and me
Together again
Imagine love
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Poem, I still carried away
I still get carried away
Years ago
Walking in Alexander Park
I was captivated
By the blossom on a pear tree
And lifted out of my grief and depression
I was transported to another world
Of bliss and rapture
Where everything made sense
And no questions needed asking
Before they were answered
Coming back to normal life
I wept tears of gratitude
40 years later I still marvel
At those trees
And I still get carried away.
Years ago
Walking in Alexander Park
I was captivated
By the blossom on a pear tree
And lifted out of my grief and depression
I was transported to another world
Of bliss and rapture
Where everything made sense
And no questions needed asking
Before they were answered
Coming back to normal life
I wept tears of gratitude
40 years later I still marvel
At those trees
And I still get carried away.
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
Mystic detective(5)
[creative writing]
Mystic detective(5) meets with Percy and Micky
Finally Paul and Percy meet face to face. Whatever expectations Paul had about Percy – and there were many - were confounded by that first meeting. There was areal dishevelled quality to Percy. It was not just that he needed a haircut badly (so did Paul for that matter) and a wardrobe makeover (ditto) – ‘my would the TV experts have a real field day with him’ thought Paul. It was also that this outer mess that was Percy was mirrored by something inner. Percy was a man who could hardly complete a sentence let alone hold a thought together.
This was in such sharp contract to Paul’s experience of Percy’s wife Brenda who was so neat and together despite her worries about Percy’s disappearance. Maybe opposites attract or maybe something had happened to Percy, something perhaps that involved OM? This was one occasion in which Paul’s laid back style of interviewing needed to change.
- So Percy – do you mind if I call you Percy-
- No… that is I mean… Yes please do
- So Percy in your own words tell me what happened
- What happened?
- Yes, how you came to leave Brenda…
- Leave Brenda… uhm…. I didn’t
- OK tell me about OM
- OM?
- Yes OM
- Well, I …er hmm… I started going to their classes cops I was stressed up about work and needed to relax and my GP suggested yoga or something…
- What happened?
- What happened?
- Yes what happened?
- Well, er… I started going to the early evening class on Thursdays…
- Yes?
- Yes and it felt good at first… definite improvement… more relaxed… and …uh what?
- The OM yoga classes felt good and?
- Oh yes they told me that I needed to do a retreat at their ashram…
- In York?
- Yes
- Why?
- Why?
- Yes why?
- Oh… er… yes they said that I would get even more benefit from a retreat. This seemed to make sense to me… at least at the time
- Did you tell Brenda about this?
- No…. they told me not to… said she would probably talk me out of it.
- Would she?
- Yes and I wished she had!
- What happened there?
- Oh… er .. hm.. yes… what?
- What happened there?
- (In a strange stilted voice lacking any affect) The OM Ashram seeks to promote world peace through inner harmony and prayer.
- Percy what’s happened?
- Whatdyermean?
- You just spoke to me in a strange voice
- Did I?
- Yes
- Oh
- You said ‘The OM Ashram seeks to promote world peace through inner harmony and prayer’
- Ye-es that…is… right
- Percy?
- Yes
- Percy what happened at the ashram?
- Hm… what happened at6 the ashram?
- Yes, what?
- It was calm and good
- Calm and good?
- Calm and good
- Why did you leave?
- I dunno, I wish I was still there.
Percy started weeping. Paul as usual felt awkward and this was something different
- Do you want to see Brenda?
- Yes… but I can’t (sobbing)
- Why ever not?
- They… they… wont let me (sobbing louder)
- Wont let you?
- Wont let me?
- Why ever not?
- Because… because they sky is blue it makes me cry
‘Oh fuck’ said Paul under his breath.
- But you do want to see Brenda?
- Yes
- OK leave it to me.
Percy was clearly in some hell of a state and needed care, although there was some risk in involving Brenda at this stage it made sense to Paul even if only to get the best possible help for Percy. Brenda would surely see to that. There was very little more that Paul could learn from Percy but that was not the end of the matter. There was still the question of what OM was up to, what OM had done to Paul himself and to Claudia and of course the vulnerable position that Paul’s friend Frankie was in. It was clearly time for Paul to speak to Micky Flynn.
Next morning in Fuel Micky joined Paul for a post breakfast Americano.
- On the QT we have had our eyes of OM for some time (Micky had this curious and old fashioned way of expressing himself)
- Oh yeah?
- Yeah but there is nothing we can p[in on them… their accounts are squeaky clean… but
- But?
- Well this is strictly between you and me (Paul nodded) God if it ever got out I was talking to you in this way I would be for the high jump…
- Strictly between me and thee
- Strictly… well a few people have needed mental health treatment following a stay at the ashram
- Really?
- Yes, but the OM people who include a medic or two have always argued that they attract a few punters who are in their words ‘volatile’ and so they can’t be held responsible…
- It begs a few questions
- It does indeed but they get everyone who stays there to sign a disclaimer
Paul nodded for he had signed such a form himself
- What about ‘donations’?
- Well they have had a few large ones including one from your client’s husband Percy.
- And?
- And well they argue that if satisfied customers want to donate to their OM Foundation what is wrong with that?
- Hmm… I’d like to see their balance sheet
- I thought you’d might but their latest accounts aren’t due for another 6 months and the previous year’s figures were not that striking
- Hmm so what do we need to do?
- Keep a watching brief. At least your client’s husband is well out of it
- True but I worry about Frankie and his alleged daughter who is well mixed up with them
- Keep me posted
- Will do
Micky left having raised more questions than answers even if he had supplied some useful background information. The next, indeed the only step, seemed to be via Frankie and Claudia but how best to handle it and what was the link between OM and the fascists? Time for a long bicycle ride trying not to think about things but letting the matter stew on the mind’s back burner if that was not a mangled metaphor!
Mystic detective(5) meets with Percy and Micky
Finally Paul and Percy meet face to face. Whatever expectations Paul had about Percy – and there were many - were confounded by that first meeting. There was areal dishevelled quality to Percy. It was not just that he needed a haircut badly (so did Paul for that matter) and a wardrobe makeover (ditto) – ‘my would the TV experts have a real field day with him’ thought Paul. It was also that this outer mess that was Percy was mirrored by something inner. Percy was a man who could hardly complete a sentence let alone hold a thought together.
This was in such sharp contract to Paul’s experience of Percy’s wife Brenda who was so neat and together despite her worries about Percy’s disappearance. Maybe opposites attract or maybe something had happened to Percy, something perhaps that involved OM? This was one occasion in which Paul’s laid back style of interviewing needed to change.
- So Percy – do you mind if I call you Percy-
- No… that is I mean… Yes please do
- So Percy in your own words tell me what happened
- What happened?
- Yes, how you came to leave Brenda…
- Leave Brenda… uhm…. I didn’t
- OK tell me about OM
- OM?
- Yes OM
- Well, I …er hmm… I started going to their classes cops I was stressed up about work and needed to relax and my GP suggested yoga or something…
- What happened?
- What happened?
- Yes what happened?
- Well, er… I started going to the early evening class on Thursdays…
- Yes?
- Yes and it felt good at first… definite improvement… more relaxed… and …uh what?
- The OM yoga classes felt good and?
- Oh yes they told me that I needed to do a retreat at their ashram…
- In York?
- Yes
- Why?
- Why?
- Yes why?
- Oh… er… yes they said that I would get even more benefit from a retreat. This seemed to make sense to me… at least at the time
- Did you tell Brenda about this?
- No…. they told me not to… said she would probably talk me out of it.
- Would she?
- Yes and I wished she had!
- What happened there?
- Oh… er .. hm.. yes… what?
- What happened there?
- (In a strange stilted voice lacking any affect) The OM Ashram seeks to promote world peace through inner harmony and prayer.
- Percy what’s happened?
- Whatdyermean?
- You just spoke to me in a strange voice
- Did I?
- Yes
- Oh
- You said ‘The OM Ashram seeks to promote world peace through inner harmony and prayer’
- Ye-es that…is… right
- Percy?
- Yes
- Percy what happened at the ashram?
- Hm… what happened at6 the ashram?
- Yes, what?
- It was calm and good
- Calm and good?
- Calm and good
- Why did you leave?
- I dunno, I wish I was still there.
Percy started weeping. Paul as usual felt awkward and this was something different
- Do you want to see Brenda?
- Yes… but I can’t (sobbing)
- Why ever not?
- They… they… wont let me (sobbing louder)
- Wont let you?
- Wont let me?
- Why ever not?
- Because… because they sky is blue it makes me cry
‘Oh fuck’ said Paul under his breath.
- But you do want to see Brenda?
- Yes
- OK leave it to me.
Percy was clearly in some hell of a state and needed care, although there was some risk in involving Brenda at this stage it made sense to Paul even if only to get the best possible help for Percy. Brenda would surely see to that. There was very little more that Paul could learn from Percy but that was not the end of the matter. There was still the question of what OM was up to, what OM had done to Paul himself and to Claudia and of course the vulnerable position that Paul’s friend Frankie was in. It was clearly time for Paul to speak to Micky Flynn.
Next morning in Fuel Micky joined Paul for a post breakfast Americano.
- On the QT we have had our eyes of OM for some time (Micky had this curious and old fashioned way of expressing himself)
- Oh yeah?
- Yeah but there is nothing we can p[in on them… their accounts are squeaky clean… but
- But?
- Well this is strictly between you and me (Paul nodded) God if it ever got out I was talking to you in this way I would be for the high jump…
- Strictly between me and thee
- Strictly… well a few people have needed mental health treatment following a stay at the ashram
- Really?
- Yes, but the OM people who include a medic or two have always argued that they attract a few punters who are in their words ‘volatile’ and so they can’t be held responsible…
- It begs a few questions
- It does indeed but they get everyone who stays there to sign a disclaimer
Paul nodded for he had signed such a form himself
- What about ‘donations’?
- Well they have had a few large ones including one from your client’s husband Percy.
- And?
- And well they argue that if satisfied customers want to donate to their OM Foundation what is wrong with that?
- Hmm… I’d like to see their balance sheet
- I thought you’d might but their latest accounts aren’t due for another 6 months and the previous year’s figures were not that striking
- Hmm so what do we need to do?
- Keep a watching brief. At least your client’s husband is well out of it
- True but I worry about Frankie and his alleged daughter who is well mixed up with them
- Keep me posted
- Will do
Micky left having raised more questions than answers even if he had supplied some useful background information. The next, indeed the only step, seemed to be via Frankie and Claudia but how best to handle it and what was the link between OM and the fascists? Time for a long bicycle ride trying not to think about things but letting the matter stew on the mind’s back burner if that was not a mangled metaphor!
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