(For Oominor).
To A Mother To Be
When, at last, you finally give birth
Miraculously shall shrink your enormous girth
Returning you to your former self, so slim and slender
Then may you go on one almighty bender.
(After Ogden Nash).
Friday, November 27, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Losing At Spread Betting
I am a loser, overall, when it comes to spread betting. (This is by way of response to A Certain Person's comment on my last post on this subject. He made the mistake of mistaking the example for the thing exemplified, I was explaining the mechanics by way of example).
Broadly speaking, I have lost maybe one thousand or one thousand five hundred euros in this racket.
Why did I lose? I jumped in with the big boys when I was a small fish. I took a position on Apple (a share price at the time at probably one hundred and twenty dollars) and it went against me. That position could have either made or lost a lot of money, relatively speaking. Everything is relative, in this case to the size of one's trading capital. I lost on some other shares as well. I also made profits, but my losses outweighed my gains.
Have I learned anything from my mistakes? I hope so. First, I ceased to trade. Second, I commenced paper trading (no money involved), taking theoretical positions on shares within my price range, in which the loss, hopefully, could not be more than fifty to a hundred euros per bet, fifty preferred.
What is the result? I have been winning on paper for the last three months.
There are pitfalls in trading in the markets. A share may "gap", upwards or downwards, that is jump in price way above or below yesterday's closing price and, if it goes against you, going right past your stop loss, in which case the spread betting company closes your bet at the first available opportunity, and you have lost more than you bargained for. This does not happen very often, and, of course, it can work in your favour as well.
You will always have losing trades, and if you can't take losses (emotionally or financially) you should not trade. You must be Mr. Supercool.
There is such a thing as a "guaranteed stop loss", which means that if the price moves beyond your stop loss, you are stopped out at the stop loss price. Beginners are advised to use these, but there is some difficulty in obtaining them.
Spread betting companies make their money on the spread, that is, the difference between the buying price and the selling price, that is why it is called spread betting. When you place an up bet, it is called "buying" and, to get out of the trade (if it has not been stopped out), you "sell", and vice versa for a down bet. There are only a few points in the difference between the buying and selling price, increasing with the price of the instrument (for example, a share), and, for a guaranteed stop loss, the spread is greater. Some of the companies advertise themselves as having "tight spreads".
My brother said that in my last piece on this subject I did not mention filters. Of course, you always "filter" the market using your intelligence to find bets which meet your criteria. However, the Sharescope program, which I use has computerised filters, which may be tailor made to suit your approach.
There are over four thousand shares on the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE), and you don't want to look at them all. I have various filters in play, both for up bets and down bets, resulting in my being presented with sometimes between, say, ten and twenty graphs to look at. Of course, I don't bet on them all, I use my eyes to look at the graph, for example to see whether there is much momentum behind the movement I am looking at. If not, it is a no-no, as far a I am concerned. This, itself, is probably capable of being filtered by the program. Learning is a continuous process of refinement. Whenever you introduce a new filter, the result is a smaller number of items for you to choose from. I am still learning, it never stops.
How do you learn? Go to the best sources. There are many good books on the subject of trading, get the best.
As regards stop losses and where to place them, there are many approaches. Choose the one that suits you best, that you understand and seems to work for you. Too close, and you get stopped out on a jiggle in the price. Some people use a factor such as twenty per cent below the price. An ideal book would list every approach to every aspect of trading and the new trader would pick the ones that suit him best.
I have only ever done one day trade, as mentioned in my last piece, day trading does not suit me, you have to stay looking at your computer screen until the trade ends. It is somewhat frenetic. You choose the type of trading you do according to your personality type. My trades theoretically last up to about twenty days in duration, but have never lasted that long.
A trade is exited in one of two ways, either you are stopped out, the price hits your stop loss, in which case you may have made or lost money, because you may have moved your stop loss in the direction of the bet and gone beyond the break-even point, or you sell out. Why would you sell out? Again, this is done according to your philosophical approach. If the price goes flat for three days, I get out, or if it seems to be going nowhere, which is more or less the same thing.
The trend following system is not perfect, nothing is, and does, of course deliver some false signals. Over the last three months, on paper I have lost on more than fifty per cent of my bets but my profits have outweighed my losses by a good margin. Cut your losses and let your profits run.
People should test their systems on paper or on computer or both before they enter the market but should remember that when real money is at stake they may act differently. Women have been said to be good traders because they are process oriented, they ask themselves "What is the right thing to do now, what is the rule" whereas men, on average, are goal oriented and, if so, think of the money they might make or lose, and make a decision based on emotion, a wrong decision. And women are said to be the emotional gender. You must be process oriented, with a rule for every occasion.
Practice makes perfect, the rules become second nature. You instantly know what to do in every eventuality.
There are only four states to the market, up, down, sideways and volatile, the latter two being signals to get out fast or not to get in. You must be responsive and adaptable, adapting to suit market conditions. Go with the flow, as the hippies used to say.
Make money slowly.
As you win, you increase your trading capital. If your trading capital increases by ten per cent, you increase your bet size by ten per cent.
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest" - Albert Einstein.
I hope this may clear up some confusion about trend following and spread betting.
As with everything else, dedication is required in order to succeed.
David (where are those asterisks?)
Broadly speaking, I have lost maybe one thousand or one thousand five hundred euros in this racket.
Why did I lose? I jumped in with the big boys when I was a small fish. I took a position on Apple (a share price at the time at probably one hundred and twenty dollars) and it went against me. That position could have either made or lost a lot of money, relatively speaking. Everything is relative, in this case to the size of one's trading capital. I lost on some other shares as well. I also made profits, but my losses outweighed my gains.
Have I learned anything from my mistakes? I hope so. First, I ceased to trade. Second, I commenced paper trading (no money involved), taking theoretical positions on shares within my price range, in which the loss, hopefully, could not be more than fifty to a hundred euros per bet, fifty preferred.
What is the result? I have been winning on paper for the last three months.
There are pitfalls in trading in the markets. A share may "gap", upwards or downwards, that is jump in price way above or below yesterday's closing price and, if it goes against you, going right past your stop loss, in which case the spread betting company closes your bet at the first available opportunity, and you have lost more than you bargained for. This does not happen very often, and, of course, it can work in your favour as well.
You will always have losing trades, and if you can't take losses (emotionally or financially) you should not trade. You must be Mr. Supercool.
There is such a thing as a "guaranteed stop loss", which means that if the price moves beyond your stop loss, you are stopped out at the stop loss price. Beginners are advised to use these, but there is some difficulty in obtaining them.
Spread betting companies make their money on the spread, that is, the difference between the buying price and the selling price, that is why it is called spread betting. When you place an up bet, it is called "buying" and, to get out of the trade (if it has not been stopped out), you "sell", and vice versa for a down bet. There are only a few points in the difference between the buying and selling price, increasing with the price of the instrument (for example, a share), and, for a guaranteed stop loss, the spread is greater. Some of the companies advertise themselves as having "tight spreads".
My brother said that in my last piece on this subject I did not mention filters. Of course, you always "filter" the market using your intelligence to find bets which meet your criteria. However, the Sharescope program, which I use has computerised filters, which may be tailor made to suit your approach.
There are over four thousand shares on the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE), and you don't want to look at them all. I have various filters in play, both for up bets and down bets, resulting in my being presented with sometimes between, say, ten and twenty graphs to look at. Of course, I don't bet on them all, I use my eyes to look at the graph, for example to see whether there is much momentum behind the movement I am looking at. If not, it is a no-no, as far a I am concerned. This, itself, is probably capable of being filtered by the program. Learning is a continuous process of refinement. Whenever you introduce a new filter, the result is a smaller number of items for you to choose from. I am still learning, it never stops.
How do you learn? Go to the best sources. There are many good books on the subject of trading, get the best.
As regards stop losses and where to place them, there are many approaches. Choose the one that suits you best, that you understand and seems to work for you. Too close, and you get stopped out on a jiggle in the price. Some people use a factor such as twenty per cent below the price. An ideal book would list every approach to every aspect of trading and the new trader would pick the ones that suit him best.
I have only ever done one day trade, as mentioned in my last piece, day trading does not suit me, you have to stay looking at your computer screen until the trade ends. It is somewhat frenetic. You choose the type of trading you do according to your personality type. My trades theoretically last up to about twenty days in duration, but have never lasted that long.
A trade is exited in one of two ways, either you are stopped out, the price hits your stop loss, in which case you may have made or lost money, because you may have moved your stop loss in the direction of the bet and gone beyond the break-even point, or you sell out. Why would you sell out? Again, this is done according to your philosophical approach. If the price goes flat for three days, I get out, or if it seems to be going nowhere, which is more or less the same thing.
The trend following system is not perfect, nothing is, and does, of course deliver some false signals. Over the last three months, on paper I have lost on more than fifty per cent of my bets but my profits have outweighed my losses by a good margin. Cut your losses and let your profits run.
People should test their systems on paper or on computer or both before they enter the market but should remember that when real money is at stake they may act differently. Women have been said to be good traders because they are process oriented, they ask themselves "What is the right thing to do now, what is the rule" whereas men, on average, are goal oriented and, if so, think of the money they might make or lose, and make a decision based on emotion, a wrong decision. And women are said to be the emotional gender. You must be process oriented, with a rule for every occasion.
Practice makes perfect, the rules become second nature. You instantly know what to do in every eventuality.
There are only four states to the market, up, down, sideways and volatile, the latter two being signals to get out fast or not to get in. You must be responsive and adaptable, adapting to suit market conditions. Go with the flow, as the hippies used to say.
Make money slowly.
As you win, you increase your trading capital. If your trading capital increases by ten per cent, you increase your bet size by ten per cent.
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest" - Albert Einstein.
I hope this may clear up some confusion about trend following and spread betting.
As with everything else, dedication is required in order to succeed.
David (where are those asterisks?)
The Truth Defined
(Refers to 'Talking To Myself' and 'The Truth Is Coming', which read for context.)
14th October, 2009.
(Peter, Van Gogh, Leonardo - note, your name is bracketed with the greats).
Peter,
You ask what is truth, pointing at the handle of a cup. What is the truth of that handle? The truth of that handle is the truth of all handles, that it possesses the quality of handleness. If it serves the function of being a handle, then it is true, then it is worthy of being called a handle. The truth must be put first, both by the designer and the maker, then it will serve its purpose, which is to satisfy the user. Its truth does not merely reside in the fact that it is (we have all seen bad handles). To be is to be true, all else is false.
The truth is all pervasive, and its other name is God. The denial of truth is the denial of God. Heaven in a grain of sand - William Blake. Inanimate objects, not man made, serve their purpose merely by being. We, however, are self aware and can choose, as Hamlet said, to be or not to be.
Our purpose is to serve the truth of being, by being true. True to the material from which we are formed, which is all we know and are, to find and seek the truth in our world and universe, and give expression to it in how we are and what we do and make, which is ultimately what we make of our lives. We choose how we are, what is immaterial, we may be a road sweeper.
Our true purpose is to serve the truth, by being a good cup handle, metaphorically speaking. When quality is put first, quantity is ennobled, and quality and quantity are one.
Everywhere, the truth is denied whereas the truth is the meaning in an apparently meaningless universe, of which we are a part. The truth is that which we must seek and seek to convey, in our words and actions. By being true to ourselves, we are true to others. Be true to your materials.
I hope this is of some use.
As an artist, you should be concerned with the bigger picture (joke, but many a true word is spoken in jest).
Everywhere, everything is treated as meaningless, but that is not to say that it is meaningless, merely that the truth is denied. Quality is treated as non-existent, whereas it is all we seek. The symbol is not the thing symbolised, but the truth is when they are one. We can but try.
Seek, and ye shall find. When a person goes to an art gallery, he is seeking truth, although he may not know it, in the form of a painting.
I got up out of bed to write this.
You ask a worthy question, the question of all questions, what is truth? The truth is not a what but rather a how, and the answer is when how and what are combined.
Next time, perhaps you will ask a greater question, why?
The answer will be one and the same, in so many words, in a manner of speaking.
Yours speechlessly,
David
PS I could have said, did you eat rat poison for your breakfast this morning? It would not have been true food if you did. Now you know what the truth is.
D
14th October, 2009.
(Peter, Van Gogh, Leonardo - note, your name is bracketed with the greats).
Peter,
You ask what is truth, pointing at the handle of a cup. What is the truth of that handle? The truth of that handle is the truth of all handles, that it possesses the quality of handleness. If it serves the function of being a handle, then it is true, then it is worthy of being called a handle. The truth must be put first, both by the designer and the maker, then it will serve its purpose, which is to satisfy the user. Its truth does not merely reside in the fact that it is (we have all seen bad handles). To be is to be true, all else is false.
The truth is all pervasive, and its other name is God. The denial of truth is the denial of God. Heaven in a grain of sand - William Blake. Inanimate objects, not man made, serve their purpose merely by being. We, however, are self aware and can choose, as Hamlet said, to be or not to be.
Our purpose is to serve the truth of being, by being true. True to the material from which we are formed, which is all we know and are, to find and seek the truth in our world and universe, and give expression to it in how we are and what we do and make, which is ultimately what we make of our lives. We choose how we are, what is immaterial, we may be a road sweeper.
Our true purpose is to serve the truth, by being a good cup handle, metaphorically speaking. When quality is put first, quantity is ennobled, and quality and quantity are one.
Everywhere, the truth is denied whereas the truth is the meaning in an apparently meaningless universe, of which we are a part. The truth is that which we must seek and seek to convey, in our words and actions. By being true to ourselves, we are true to others. Be true to your materials.
I hope this is of some use.
As an artist, you should be concerned with the bigger picture (joke, but many a true word is spoken in jest).
Everywhere, everything is treated as meaningless, but that is not to say that it is meaningless, merely that the truth is denied. Quality is treated as non-existent, whereas it is all we seek. The symbol is not the thing symbolised, but the truth is when they are one. We can but try.
Seek, and ye shall find. When a person goes to an art gallery, he is seeking truth, although he may not know it, in the form of a painting.
I got up out of bed to write this.
You ask a worthy question, the question of all questions, what is truth? The truth is not a what but rather a how, and the answer is when how and what are combined.
Next time, perhaps you will ask a greater question, why?
The answer will be one and the same, in so many words, in a manner of speaking.
Yours speechlessly,
David
PS I could have said, did you eat rat poison for your breakfast this morning? It would not have been true food if you did. Now you know what the truth is.
D
The Truth Is Coming
(Refers to 'The Truth Defined').
14th October, 2009.
Dear (young lady),
I enclose a letter I wrote to a friend of mine, an artist, a painter, a long time friend. He is a good artist and a good friend, with some sort of mumbo jumbo philosophy which I have not tried to understand, which he does not often bring into a conversation, but which appears to be totally off the wall and meaning, if it means anything, that nothing means anything.
Anyway, yesterday I was sitting alone with him in his kitchen talking about I don't know what when I must have used the word "truth" and Peter asked "What is truth?" This more or less floored me, coming from an apparently intelligent man (did he want a true answer?) Then he pointed at the most trivial object to hand, the handle of a cup, and asked "What is the truth of that handle?" I may have mumbled something like "It is a handle" and then a few larger ways of looking at truth were raised and the subject was dropped, Peter having apparently won the argument (his argument being there is no truth and his argument being false because if his argument is true then there is truth).
I am not a slot machine. I don't (always) provide instant answers. The truth comes dropping slow, to paraphrase a poem by W. B. Yeats. The answer to Peter's argument came to me in the early hours of the morning, and I wrote the enclosed.
I asked a friend of mine, a working-class man, a craftsman, to read it and I asked him did he understand it. He said "Yes". He said "If he (Peter) doesn't know what truth is now, he will never know", or words to that effect.
The reason I asked that friend of mine whether he understood the letter is twofold or, possibly threefold. First, I want my words, written or spoke, to be understandable by absolutely anyone. Second, I am from the middle, or upper middle class sector of society and there is a danger I might express myself in a way understandable to the class from which I spring, but not to others, or so I feared.
However, as a child, I found that, when reading a very well written book, such as the Sherlock Holmes books, words new to the reader are understandable from the context. Words truly used are clear, as to meaning. Third, Christ expressed himself in words understandable to a child and no one should express themselves otherwise.
****
About two hours have elapsed since I wrote the above words, I had my lunch and worked with my brother on the computer. That was at home, now I am in a hotel. Its virtually empty, being eleven ten p.m. in the off season. I had exhausted the above topic, anyway.
I want to say something about class, social class, which raised its ugly head some while ago in these pages. It is artificial, manmade and meaningless. Someone wrote about Jesus and social class. His father was a carpenter, that is the skilled working class. He worked as a fisherman, that is a rung further down the ladder, unskilled work. He had a friend who was a prostitute, the lowest of the low. He went to a party, that was middle class. What may be said in sum? Class meant nothing to him.
Oscar Wilde said there are only two kinds of books, good books and bad books. The same may be said of people. The theologian, Teilhard de Chardin, of whom you may or may not have heard, said "People are not equal, they are complementary".
Finally, finally this letter to you seems to be coming to an end. Why did I decide to send you the enclosed letter (The Truth Defined)? This afternoon, at this hotel, I was at the outside tables (it was a fine day), I still had not sent the letter to Peter, and I thought you might like that letter.
Something about you, something about how you responded or did not respond when I used the expression "A cross to bear" on the phone to you recently. Also, you have something about you, genuineness, which is always a pleasure to meet.
There is a saying, "What everyone knows is wrong". To an old friend of mine, I said "Suffering is good". "How else do we learn?" he replied.
On that note, goodbye for now,
Love (Uncle Aesop)
****
(When I spoke to the young lady to whom this letter is addressed she said she was in a hurry when she read it and thought the word 'love' (the second last word) was 'Coming on a bit strong', (nothing about the content). I composed several letters to her defending 'love', inside or outside of quotation marks, but sent none of them. I may post one to her, or on this blog, as the spirit moves me.
Young people are typically busy, busy, busy. What is this life if full of care we have no time to stand and stare?)
D
14th October, 2009.
Dear (young lady),
I enclose a letter I wrote to a friend of mine, an artist, a painter, a long time friend. He is a good artist and a good friend, with some sort of mumbo jumbo philosophy which I have not tried to understand, which he does not often bring into a conversation, but which appears to be totally off the wall and meaning, if it means anything, that nothing means anything.
Anyway, yesterday I was sitting alone with him in his kitchen talking about I don't know what when I must have used the word "truth" and Peter asked "What is truth?" This more or less floored me, coming from an apparently intelligent man (did he want a true answer?) Then he pointed at the most trivial object to hand, the handle of a cup, and asked "What is the truth of that handle?" I may have mumbled something like "It is a handle" and then a few larger ways of looking at truth were raised and the subject was dropped, Peter having apparently won the argument (his argument being there is no truth and his argument being false because if his argument is true then there is truth).
I am not a slot machine. I don't (always) provide instant answers. The truth comes dropping slow, to paraphrase a poem by W. B. Yeats. The answer to Peter's argument came to me in the early hours of the morning, and I wrote the enclosed.
I asked a friend of mine, a working-class man, a craftsman, to read it and I asked him did he understand it. He said "Yes". He said "If he (Peter) doesn't know what truth is now, he will never know", or words to that effect.
The reason I asked that friend of mine whether he understood the letter is twofold or, possibly threefold. First, I want my words, written or spoke, to be understandable by absolutely anyone. Second, I am from the middle, or upper middle class sector of society and there is a danger I might express myself in a way understandable to the class from which I spring, but not to others, or so I feared.
However, as a child, I found that, when reading a very well written book, such as the Sherlock Holmes books, words new to the reader are understandable from the context. Words truly used are clear, as to meaning. Third, Christ expressed himself in words understandable to a child and no one should express themselves otherwise.
****
About two hours have elapsed since I wrote the above words, I had my lunch and worked with my brother on the computer. That was at home, now I am in a hotel. Its virtually empty, being eleven ten p.m. in the off season. I had exhausted the above topic, anyway.
I want to say something about class, social class, which raised its ugly head some while ago in these pages. It is artificial, manmade and meaningless. Someone wrote about Jesus and social class. His father was a carpenter, that is the skilled working class. He worked as a fisherman, that is a rung further down the ladder, unskilled work. He had a friend who was a prostitute, the lowest of the low. He went to a party, that was middle class. What may be said in sum? Class meant nothing to him.
Oscar Wilde said there are only two kinds of books, good books and bad books. The same may be said of people. The theologian, Teilhard de Chardin, of whom you may or may not have heard, said "People are not equal, they are complementary".
Finally, finally this letter to you seems to be coming to an end. Why did I decide to send you the enclosed letter (The Truth Defined)? This afternoon, at this hotel, I was at the outside tables (it was a fine day), I still had not sent the letter to Peter, and I thought you might like that letter.
Something about you, something about how you responded or did not respond when I used the expression "A cross to bear" on the phone to you recently. Also, you have something about you, genuineness, which is always a pleasure to meet.
There is a saying, "What everyone knows is wrong". To an old friend of mine, I said "Suffering is good". "How else do we learn?" he replied.
On that note, goodbye for now,
Love (Uncle Aesop)
****
(When I spoke to the young lady to whom this letter is addressed she said she was in a hurry when she read it and thought the word 'love' (the second last word) was 'Coming on a bit strong', (nothing about the content). I composed several letters to her defending 'love', inside or outside of quotation marks, but sent none of them. I may post one to her, or on this blog, as the spirit moves me.
Young people are typically busy, busy, busy. What is this life if full of care we have no time to stand and stare?)
D
Talking To Myself
(The single page of writing referred to is from 'The Truth Is Coming' - D).
15th October, 2009.
Dear David,
I feel as if I'm talking to myself.
You seemed to enjoy the single page of writing I showed you last night, so I have decided to give you the whole thing, along with the letter referred to therein, which I call "The Truth Defined". These are for you to keep, although you may show them to Conan, who has read other things I have written. Show them to people you like and people you don't like, although I would advise giving them only copies.
I may put my writing on a blog, publishers don't seem to want to publish what I write.
In reading these letters and in life remember "The truth, though imperfectly expressed, is still the truth". The flaws are mine, the truth is flawless.
I may edit, if publication beckons. I write spontaneously, and must preserve the spontaneity of the original inspiration.
As a name for a blog, I thought 'Half-way House' might suit. I had thought "The Eternal Verities Revisited, Or Whatever You're Having Yourself", mixing the (hopefully) profound and colloquial, but it seems a bit long. What do you think of 'Half-way House'?.
Hope you enjoy all this,
The other David
15th October, 2009.
Dear David,
I feel as if I'm talking to myself.
You seemed to enjoy the single page of writing I showed you last night, so I have decided to give you the whole thing, along with the letter referred to therein, which I call "The Truth Defined". These are for you to keep, although you may show them to Conan, who has read other things I have written. Show them to people you like and people you don't like, although I would advise giving them only copies.
I may put my writing on a blog, publishers don't seem to want to publish what I write.
In reading these letters and in life remember "The truth, though imperfectly expressed, is still the truth". The flaws are mine, the truth is flawless.
I may edit, if publication beckons. I write spontaneously, and must preserve the spontaneity of the original inspiration.
As a name for a blog, I thought 'Half-way House' might suit. I had thought "The Eternal Verities Revisited, Or Whatever You're Having Yourself", mixing the (hopefully) profound and colloquial, but it seems a bit long. What do you think of 'Half-way House'?.
Hope you enjoy all this,
The other David
Sunday, November 22, 2009
How To Write
Write what you feel, how you feel, as you feel and you won't go far wrong. Style rests in choice of treatment and choice of subject matter. Choose a subject that appeals to you, suit your subject to your style and you will find that no subject escapes your pen. Writing is being, and as you are, so shall you write.
This is true of any art form, and writing is an art. Art is when the writer and the written are one, and the writer speaks from his soul. Do not be merely clever, or you may wind up being too clever by half.
Intelligence means nothing when not mediated through the soul. Intelligence is that through which we perceive, through the senses, and the brain is a muscle, a thing. The soul, in the Greek sense, is that through which we feel. The brain must be servant of the soul, not the other way around.
To be alive is to be intelligent, with all the senses awake and aware. The soul is of the spirit, the brain of the body. The artist sees through the eyes of the soul and speaks from there as well. He is responsive to feeling and responds to it and gives utterance to it in the form of his art.
The question for the artist, or would be artist, is not how to be, but rather how to feel. First, learn technique, the necessary prerequisite, then give vent to your feelings through the medium of your choice. Technique is a means, not an end. The end is feeling, as was the beginning.
True art begins and ends in inspiration. The artist must aspire, be inspired and produce inspiring work. (The purpose of art is to inspire. To inspire to what? To aspire to be inspired. True art makes artists of us all). Roll aside the stone of intelligence, of the senses, and allow your feelings to be, giving life to yourself and your art. Art is expressive of and is an expression of feeling. Re-awaken your feelings, your soul, and give expression to it.
Art is divination, seeing the truth, the essence, the spirit of its subject and is an expression of the soul of the artist, made up of those things as they relate to the subject. As Einstein said, everything is relative. The true artist relates the truth.
I could go on, I can't go on, I must go on. I'll stop here. Start here, in the eternal now.
Have you grasped the truth in your hand? Insubstantial, is it not? Give substance to it and you bring it to life. Life is when spirit and body are one, in you, in what you create and your life and your work are one and both a work of art. Dedication is required.
The barest minimum of learning through the intelligence is required, feeling is all, or very nearly all. Many great musicians cannot read music. Then, how do they do it? With feeling. On that note, a musical one, I end.
But not quite. Ponder these thoughts.
The truth, though imperfectly expressed, is still the truth.
Start before you are ready.
Baby's first attempt at speaking is intelligible only as an attempt, a worthy attempt, a feeling, an expression of feeling, a wish to communicate.
Practice makes perfect.
Every journey starts with a first step.
Now is always when.
The truth, when perfectly expressed, is irrefutable. That must be your objective, perfection itself.
(Forgive my impefections, see through and beyond).
Art is striving, but the strain must not show, edit it out.
I'll be with you in apple blossom time, Johnny Appleseed.
Reality is the essence of the real, art is when the real and reality are one. It is revelatory and a revelation, nothing less will do.
How you are what you are is what makes you an artist or a con-artist. Writing should be what you want to do, you should not wish to be a writer. (The writing comes first). As you do, so are you. By their works shall ye know them.
Writing is being to a writer, writing is when doing and being are one, the doing coming first. It is when the artist is at one with being itself, and the path is through feeling, feeling is the way.
Art is not a thing apart, everything man does is art when realised at its highest level. All may be artists, from road sweepers to kings and back again. What is true of writing is true of everything. When purpose is put first, rather than the person of the artist, art is.
An artist is one who sacrifices himself for this truth. True art is great art, at whatever level, in simplicity lies greatness. The word true is maligned and ignored as irrelevance when, in truth all relevance is relevant insofar as it is relevant to truth.
The truth is relevance itself.
The question how to be a writer, how to be an artist is answered with the question how to be. To be an artist, to be a writer, to be a road sweeper, to be a king is to be true or not to be at all.
The truth is the answer you were searching for, and the truth is a way, a way of being and doing, the form is immaterial. The truth lies within, it is not dead, but sleepeth.
Roll aside the rock of self and set the truth, which is your truth, free. It is yours and everyone else's as well, when you share it. The struggle of the artist is with himself. The self is a millstone around your neck or a milestone on the road to truth. The choice is yours.
An eight-year-old girl, when asked what she wanted to be when she grows up, said "I want to be me". You must lose yourself in order to find yourself.
Put purpose first or, in common parlance, put the job, the work you are doing first, and you are there.
The truth is when how, what, where, when, why and, last of all who are one in the truth, or, as I said in the first sentence, when the actor acts in accordance with true feeling in relation to all of the above.
Everything is relative.
To write is to be, to be is to write. We all write the story of our life, literally or metaphorically. "The moving finger writes and, having writ, moves on, nor all thy piety or wit can call it back to cancel half a line, nor all thy tears wash out a word of it" - Omar Khayyam.
Luckily, in literal writing, we can edit, which is largely a matter, in art as in life, of simplification and deletion, a necessary task and a topic for another day.
David ****
This is true of any art form, and writing is an art. Art is when the writer and the written are one, and the writer speaks from his soul. Do not be merely clever, or you may wind up being too clever by half.
Intelligence means nothing when not mediated through the soul. Intelligence is that through which we perceive, through the senses, and the brain is a muscle, a thing. The soul, in the Greek sense, is that through which we feel. The brain must be servant of the soul, not the other way around.
To be alive is to be intelligent, with all the senses awake and aware. The soul is of the spirit, the brain of the body. The artist sees through the eyes of the soul and speaks from there as well. He is responsive to feeling and responds to it and gives utterance to it in the form of his art.
The question for the artist, or would be artist, is not how to be, but rather how to feel. First, learn technique, the necessary prerequisite, then give vent to your feelings through the medium of your choice. Technique is a means, not an end. The end is feeling, as was the beginning.
True art begins and ends in inspiration. The artist must aspire, be inspired and produce inspiring work. (The purpose of art is to inspire. To inspire to what? To aspire to be inspired. True art makes artists of us all). Roll aside the stone of intelligence, of the senses, and allow your feelings to be, giving life to yourself and your art. Art is expressive of and is an expression of feeling. Re-awaken your feelings, your soul, and give expression to it.
Art is divination, seeing the truth, the essence, the spirit of its subject and is an expression of the soul of the artist, made up of those things as they relate to the subject. As Einstein said, everything is relative. The true artist relates the truth.
I could go on, I can't go on, I must go on. I'll stop here. Start here, in the eternal now.
Have you grasped the truth in your hand? Insubstantial, is it not? Give substance to it and you bring it to life. Life is when spirit and body are one, in you, in what you create and your life and your work are one and both a work of art. Dedication is required.
The barest minimum of learning through the intelligence is required, feeling is all, or very nearly all. Many great musicians cannot read music. Then, how do they do it? With feeling. On that note, a musical one, I end.
But not quite. Ponder these thoughts.
The truth, though imperfectly expressed, is still the truth.
Start before you are ready.
Baby's first attempt at speaking is intelligible only as an attempt, a worthy attempt, a feeling, an expression of feeling, a wish to communicate.
Practice makes perfect.
Every journey starts with a first step.
Now is always when.
The truth, when perfectly expressed, is irrefutable. That must be your objective, perfection itself.
(Forgive my impefections, see through and beyond).
Art is striving, but the strain must not show, edit it out.
I'll be with you in apple blossom time, Johnny Appleseed.
Reality is the essence of the real, art is when the real and reality are one. It is revelatory and a revelation, nothing less will do.
How you are what you are is what makes you an artist or a con-artist. Writing should be what you want to do, you should not wish to be a writer. (The writing comes first). As you do, so are you. By their works shall ye know them.
Writing is being to a writer, writing is when doing and being are one, the doing coming first. It is when the artist is at one with being itself, and the path is through feeling, feeling is the way.
Art is not a thing apart, everything man does is art when realised at its highest level. All may be artists, from road sweepers to kings and back again. What is true of writing is true of everything. When purpose is put first, rather than the person of the artist, art is.
An artist is one who sacrifices himself for this truth. True art is great art, at whatever level, in simplicity lies greatness. The word true is maligned and ignored as irrelevance when, in truth all relevance is relevant insofar as it is relevant to truth.
The truth is relevance itself.
The question how to be a writer, how to be an artist is answered with the question how to be. To be an artist, to be a writer, to be a road sweeper, to be a king is to be true or not to be at all.
The truth is the answer you were searching for, and the truth is a way, a way of being and doing, the form is immaterial. The truth lies within, it is not dead, but sleepeth.
Roll aside the rock of self and set the truth, which is your truth, free. It is yours and everyone else's as well, when you share it. The struggle of the artist is with himself. The self is a millstone around your neck or a milestone on the road to truth. The choice is yours.
An eight-year-old girl, when asked what she wanted to be when she grows up, said "I want to be me". You must lose yourself in order to find yourself.
Put purpose first or, in common parlance, put the job, the work you are doing first, and you are there.
The truth is when how, what, where, when, why and, last of all who are one in the truth, or, as I said in the first sentence, when the actor acts in accordance with true feeling in relation to all of the above.
Everything is relative.
To write is to be, to be is to write. We all write the story of our life, literally or metaphorically. "The moving finger writes and, having writ, moves on, nor all thy piety or wit can call it back to cancel half a line, nor all thy tears wash out a word of it" - Omar Khayyam.
Luckily, in literal writing, we can edit, which is largely a matter, in art as in life, of simplification and deletion, a necessary task and a topic for another day.
David ****
Connecting to the World
November 10th, 2009
I sent the below to Abie Philbin Bowman, a (relatively) young 'journalist, comedian and broadcaster' I and my brother heard speak today. My brother told Abie that I thought he was cynical, but not to worry, he would grow out of it!
Hi Abie,
My brother spoke to you a few hours ago at the seminar in the Irish Writers' Centre, Parnell Square, Dublin.
As he told you, I have a blog, set up for me by a computer literate person, who had never had anything to do with blogs, like myself, kestreltales.blogspot.com. Less than twenty people know of its existence, only friends and acquaintances of mine, and I want to link, if that is what it is called, as necessary, so that it is available to the general public, but I don't know how to do that.
I am a computer illiterate, but not otherwise so, I hope.
Please visit my blog, if you like it, see if someone you know also likes it and could explain in baby talk what to do to connect it to the outside world.
Also, if you like my blog, pass on its address to others, please.
Content is king, it has been said, and I intend to keep posting to the blog. Someone at the seminar said he did not like blogs because they are unedited, my stuff is. I saw it as a way of publishing, including stuff I tried to get published in the print media without success, e.g. my Today in the Dail sketch. There is great freedom in cyberspace, absolutely anything goes, and I take full advantage of that. See also my Prostitution piece, in somewhat the same vein.
God and the Devil strut their stuff in a blog near you - read and enjoy.
Let me know what you think,
All the best,
David
PS I intend to keep writing and maybe get an agent and perhaps if I get enough stuff written, there could be a book. As Spike Milligan said, I have no plan, so nothing can go wrong.
I sent the below to Abie Philbin Bowman, a (relatively) young 'journalist, comedian and broadcaster' I and my brother heard speak today. My brother told Abie that I thought he was cynical, but not to worry, he would grow out of it!
Hi Abie,
My brother spoke to you a few hours ago at the seminar in the Irish Writers' Centre, Parnell Square, Dublin.
As he told you, I have a blog, set up for me by a computer literate person, who had never had anything to do with blogs, like myself, kestreltales.blogspot.com. Less than twenty people know of its existence, only friends and acquaintances of mine, and I want to link, if that is what it is called, as necessary, so that it is available to the general public, but I don't know how to do that.
I am a computer illiterate, but not otherwise so, I hope.
Please visit my blog, if you like it, see if someone you know also likes it and could explain in baby talk what to do to connect it to the outside world.
Also, if you like my blog, pass on its address to others, please.
Content is king, it has been said, and I intend to keep posting to the blog. Someone at the seminar said he did not like blogs because they are unedited, my stuff is. I saw it as a way of publishing, including stuff I tried to get published in the print media without success, e.g. my Today in the Dail sketch. There is great freedom in cyberspace, absolutely anything goes, and I take full advantage of that. See also my Prostitution piece, in somewhat the same vein.
God and the Devil strut their stuff in a blog near you - read and enjoy.
Let me know what you think,
All the best,
David
PS I intend to keep writing and maybe get an agent and perhaps if I get enough stuff written, there could be a book. As Spike Milligan said, I have no plan, so nothing can go wrong.
A Pep Talk
To Whom It Concerns
"I Sold My Soul To The System" - is this the story of your life? In deciding if you can't beat them, join them, you become part of the system, and this only leads to cynicism. It is pointless criticising the system if you are part of it, that is suicidal. Resist, kick against the pricks, fight the system from the inside. Don't give up without a fight. Take no crap, give no crap, bring the crap detector you were born with into play.
Practice makes perfect, in this and all other respects. Tell it like it is, as I tell you. Stand up and be counted. I know you can do it. Change yourself and the sytem simultaneously. Do one and you do the other.
I hope this letter knocks the crap out of you. Now, knock the crap out of the system.
David **** (too old to care except for caring itself).
"I Sold My Soul To The System" - is this the story of your life? In deciding if you can't beat them, join them, you become part of the system, and this only leads to cynicism. It is pointless criticising the system if you are part of it, that is suicidal. Resist, kick against the pricks, fight the system from the inside. Don't give up without a fight. Take no crap, give no crap, bring the crap detector you were born with into play.
Practice makes perfect, in this and all other respects. Tell it like it is, as I tell you. Stand up and be counted. I know you can do it. Change yourself and the sytem simultaneously. Do one and you do the other.
I hope this letter knocks the crap out of you. Now, knock the crap out of the system.
David **** (too old to care except for caring itself).
Prostitution
A prostitute is the only person who can't be sacked for lying down on the job. Ireland is full of prostitutes, politicians, civil servants, teachers and others, you know who you are, by no means all employed by the state. The take the money, but they're only interested in themselves, not the people they are supposed to serve. And why can't they be sacked? They made the rules, the prostitutes.
This is a country run by, with and for prostitutes, a high-class brothel. (That is not to say that some of the prostitutes don't have hearts of gold, but what can they do, they work in a brothel). Going through the motions is alright if you work in a sewer, but not elsewhere. To use a vulgarism, if you treat people like shit, you are shit. Or, to put it more politely, you are how you treat people.
Try putting others and the purpose of your job first, for a change. That would be a big change. Is that too much to ask? If it is, fuck off, you fucking piece of shit. Otherwise, welcome home.
****
When I showed the above piece to Conan the barman, he said it was bitter. "Not bitter", I said. "Angry", he said. "I am angry", I said. Later, I thought I could have asked him if he had a daughter this high, holding my hand somewhere above the ground, and she was raped. That's how I feel. Furious. Cold fury. "Everywhere, the ceremony of innocence is drowned" - W.B.Yeats. Children have to brought up in this corruption, where corruption is treated as normal. The powers that be are a corrupting influence, corrupting the young. Innocence is raped.
David (with stars in his eyes) ****
This is a country run by, with and for prostitutes, a high-class brothel. (That is not to say that some of the prostitutes don't have hearts of gold, but what can they do, they work in a brothel). Going through the motions is alright if you work in a sewer, but not elsewhere. To use a vulgarism, if you treat people like shit, you are shit. Or, to put it more politely, you are how you treat people.
Try putting others and the purpose of your job first, for a change. That would be a big change. Is that too much to ask? If it is, fuck off, you fucking piece of shit. Otherwise, welcome home.
****
When I showed the above piece to Conan the barman, he said it was bitter. "Not bitter", I said. "Angry", he said. "I am angry", I said. Later, I thought I could have asked him if he had a daughter this high, holding my hand somewhere above the ground, and she was raped. That's how I feel. Furious. Cold fury. "Everywhere, the ceremony of innocence is drowned" - W.B.Yeats. Children have to brought up in this corruption, where corruption is treated as normal. The powers that be are a corrupting influence, corrupting the young. Innocence is raped.
David (with stars in his eyes) ****
A History Lesson
You Tell Me
In the early nineteen sixties, Charles Haughey was minister for finance, I believe, or perhaps, minister for agriculture. Eamonn Andrews was the most successful Irishman on British television, and was involved in the setting up of Ireland's national television station, R.T.E., becoming its director, or one of its directors, I am a bit hazy as to details.
However, Andrews must have said publicly that he and his wife were hoping for a baby, and had been trying for some years, without success, or words to that effect.
Both men were at some function when Haughey spoke the following words to Eamonn Andrews: "Send your wife to me and she will have a baby". Andrews punched him, giving our future Taoiseach a black eye.
Is this true? It was all over Dublin at the time, and was hinted at in at least one newspaper. The question was, why was Haughey lying low, and refusing to answer questions as to how he had got a black eye. (The words above may not be verbatim, but they are true in essence, if the story is true, which is what I am asking you).
If the story is true, why is it not in the history books? Should it not be taught in schools? Could scholars pore over this story, becoming saints in the process, and could Ireland become a land of saints and scholars again, all because of Charlie, whom we "rise and follow"? Again, I ask merely for information.
There is much good that can be said about Haughey. He brought in free bus travel and free television licenses for old age pensioners, the succession act (which stopped bastard husbands leaving their widows nothing after forty years of service to the family), small farmers are grateful to him for grants and he founded the I.S.F.C., which created many highly paid jobs and contributed, I think, ten per cent to the country's turnover. He brought in the artists' tax exemption and said to Frederick Forsyth, the Irish resident author of The Day of the Jackal, "I didn't bring it in for fuckers like you".
It has been said of Haughey that he was a crook. But this may be said about him, he was very good at being good and very good at being bad. As regards being a crook, he dealt with Maggie Thatcher, with her vast array of advisors and diplomats. When someone said of Richard Nixon that he was a crook, the reply was "We want our crooks to be better than their crooks".
He should win the brass neck award for asking us to tighten our belts while wearing a Charvet shirt costing four hundred pounds.
He had imagination, he was creative, he would have dealt effectively with our present recession and he leaves the current lot of politicians in the ha'penny place.
God rest you, Charlie, Eamonn, and he who told me the story at the time.
David ****
In the early nineteen sixties, Charles Haughey was minister for finance, I believe, or perhaps, minister for agriculture. Eamonn Andrews was the most successful Irishman on British television, and was involved in the setting up of Ireland's national television station, R.T.E., becoming its director, or one of its directors, I am a bit hazy as to details.
However, Andrews must have said publicly that he and his wife were hoping for a baby, and had been trying for some years, without success, or words to that effect.
Both men were at some function when Haughey spoke the following words to Eamonn Andrews: "Send your wife to me and she will have a baby". Andrews punched him, giving our future Taoiseach a black eye.
Is this true? It was all over Dublin at the time, and was hinted at in at least one newspaper. The question was, why was Haughey lying low, and refusing to answer questions as to how he had got a black eye. (The words above may not be verbatim, but they are true in essence, if the story is true, which is what I am asking you).
If the story is true, why is it not in the history books? Should it not be taught in schools? Could scholars pore over this story, becoming saints in the process, and could Ireland become a land of saints and scholars again, all because of Charlie, whom we "rise and follow"? Again, I ask merely for information.
There is much good that can be said about Haughey. He brought in free bus travel and free television licenses for old age pensioners, the succession act (which stopped bastard husbands leaving their widows nothing after forty years of service to the family), small farmers are grateful to him for grants and he founded the I.S.F.C., which created many highly paid jobs and contributed, I think, ten per cent to the country's turnover. He brought in the artists' tax exemption and said to Frederick Forsyth, the Irish resident author of The Day of the Jackal, "I didn't bring it in for fuckers like you".
It has been said of Haughey that he was a crook. But this may be said about him, he was very good at being good and very good at being bad. As regards being a crook, he dealt with Maggie Thatcher, with her vast array of advisors and diplomats. When someone said of Richard Nixon that he was a crook, the reply was "We want our crooks to be better than their crooks".
He should win the brass neck award for asking us to tighten our belts while wearing a Charvet shirt costing four hundred pounds.
He had imagination, he was creative, he would have dealt effectively with our present recession and he leaves the current lot of politicians in the ha'penny place.
God rest you, Charlie, Eamonn, and he who told me the story at the time.
David ****
The Beggar Boy
He Begs To Differ
To You
'Spare a thought, as you go on your way
For the one in front of you today.
Everyday, you spend a penny,
Spare one, for one who hasn't any.'
Craig sat outside Drury street car park, a cardboard cup in his hand. I spoke to him, he spoke to me, we spoke to one and other (this is like a Chuck Berry song). He said it was his first time there, he usually sat at the Molly Malone statue, where he wrote his poems on the ground. He spoke one of his poems. It was good, he has a good vocabulary, it was poetic. 'Don't only write about being poor', said I. 'I write about anything', he said.
I asked him did he write down his poems, he said no, he has them all in his head. I said he might forget them.
'I write poems', I said, 'but I haven't written very many, I might write more.' I spoke my Metaphor poem. (He called them poems, I call them verses or rhymes). He liked my poem.
He said the rain washed his poems off the street. (He could write a poem about that - 'Written in tears and washed away by rain,' or whatever. I said I could write a poem for him, it would be rude, and spoke the one above. He said, did you make that up just now? I said yes. He said he spends hours over his poems (his are longer).
'Did you like that bit about spending a penny?' I asked. 'When I was young, you used to have to spend a penny, it cost you something, now it is free. That is one of the good things about today that is better than the old days'.
'They took them all away,' he said. I said 'The good news is they are free, the bad news is they aren't there any more'.
'You should write your poems down and send them to the Big Issue,' I said. 'They want poems from people like you, to prove you are human beings'.
Writing his poems on the street, what could be more poetic?
David ****
To You
'Spare a thought, as you go on your way
For the one in front of you today.
Everyday, you spend a penny,
Spare one, for one who hasn't any.'
Craig sat outside Drury street car park, a cardboard cup in his hand. I spoke to him, he spoke to me, we spoke to one and other (this is like a Chuck Berry song). He said it was his first time there, he usually sat at the Molly Malone statue, where he wrote his poems on the ground. He spoke one of his poems. It was good, he has a good vocabulary, it was poetic. 'Don't only write about being poor', said I. 'I write about anything', he said.
I asked him did he write down his poems, he said no, he has them all in his head. I said he might forget them.
'I write poems', I said, 'but I haven't written very many, I might write more.' I spoke my Metaphor poem. (He called them poems, I call them verses or rhymes). He liked my poem.
He said the rain washed his poems off the street. (He could write a poem about that - 'Written in tears and washed away by rain,' or whatever. I said I could write a poem for him, it would be rude, and spoke the one above. He said, did you make that up just now? I said yes. He said he spends hours over his poems (his are longer).
'Did you like that bit about spending a penny?' I asked. 'When I was young, you used to have to spend a penny, it cost you something, now it is free. That is one of the good things about today that is better than the old days'.
'They took them all away,' he said. I said 'The good news is they are free, the bad news is they aren't there any more'.
'You should write your poems down and send them to the Big Issue,' I said. 'They want poems from people like you, to prove you are human beings'.
Writing his poems on the street, what could be more poetic?
David ****
God's Dream
(My second ever post.)
God's Dream
That we should be true. May we be part of God's dream. A dream come true.
****
A fucking eejit in search of God
****
God and the devil are fighting for my soul
And one or the other sometimes takes control
Or so it appears, but appearances are not always reality,
and that is as plain as the nose on my face.
I do, however, have a great nose for truth, and that may be
my saving grace.
****
God is self effacing, and his message is be self effacing. (I wrote that when it came to me, catch it while its flying). To a friend, I said 'You have to write it down when it comes to you, or else its gone forever. Its like when you see a butterfly dancing, if you take your eyes off it, you will never see that precise pattern again'. 'Its exactly like that', he said.
****
About the Author
Why am I such a 'fucking eejit'? The answer is first, because I use 'that' word and secondly, because I am Irish. All Irish are eejits and all English are idiots, the words mean the same thing. When we stop hating and killing each other, we stop being eejits and idiots. I have never hated the English, but I am still an eejit, else would I write these words?
I am an agnostic, I do not know if there is a God. I say that those who know there is a God and those who know there is not, are know-alls. We know through our senses, we understand through our feelings. We may feel there is a God, but we cannot, in that sense, know. With us, seeing is believing, we are so fucking thick, pardon my French, I am a fluent speaker.
(If there is a God, humour, good humour, is one of his attributes, and the joke is on us. He is, in fact, if he exists, the source of all humour, all good humour that is, of course, so put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Devil, if you, in fact, exist). This is all a drunkard's dream, of course, an ex-drunkard's dream, if I done half the things they said I done, I must have had a whale of a time (Country and Western song).
To you holier than thou purists, I say this: You must see through the crap, the bad language, badness itself, to see the truth, we see as through a glass, darkly (a glass of Guinness?). If you cannot see the joke, the joke is on you. Love is where you find it, the truth also, everything is significant, everything has meaning, and truth is found in the unlikeliest of places. Here, perhaps? God grant that it be so, if there is a God.
In my defense, may I say that I am a product of the Irish educational system but, as Mark Twain said, I never let my schooling interfere with my education. The only letters I will ever have after my name are R.I.P. If I am going to God, I am going my way (may it also be his). Would you care to join me?
David **** (What do those asterisks mean?)
A Certain Person commented .........a fluent speaker. SHOULD THAT NOT BE EFFLUENT SPEAKER?
God's Dream
That we should be true. May we be part of God's dream. A dream come true.
****
A fucking eejit in search of God
****
God and the devil are fighting for my soul
And one or the other sometimes takes control
Or so it appears, but appearances are not always reality,
and that is as plain as the nose on my face.
I do, however, have a great nose for truth, and that may be
my saving grace.
****
God is self effacing, and his message is be self effacing. (I wrote that when it came to me, catch it while its flying). To a friend, I said 'You have to write it down when it comes to you, or else its gone forever. Its like when you see a butterfly dancing, if you take your eyes off it, you will never see that precise pattern again'. 'Its exactly like that', he said.
****
About the Author
Why am I such a 'fucking eejit'? The answer is first, because I use 'that' word and secondly, because I am Irish. All Irish are eejits and all English are idiots, the words mean the same thing. When we stop hating and killing each other, we stop being eejits and idiots. I have never hated the English, but I am still an eejit, else would I write these words?
I am an agnostic, I do not know if there is a God. I say that those who know there is a God and those who know there is not, are know-alls. We know through our senses, we understand through our feelings. We may feel there is a God, but we cannot, in that sense, know. With us, seeing is believing, we are so fucking thick, pardon my French, I am a fluent speaker.
(If there is a God, humour, good humour, is one of his attributes, and the joke is on us. He is, in fact, if he exists, the source of all humour, all good humour that is, of course, so put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Devil, if you, in fact, exist). This is all a drunkard's dream, of course, an ex-drunkard's dream, if I done half the things they said I done, I must have had a whale of a time (Country and Western song).
To you holier than thou purists, I say this: You must see through the crap, the bad language, badness itself, to see the truth, we see as through a glass, darkly (a glass of Guinness?). If you cannot see the joke, the joke is on you. Love is where you find it, the truth also, everything is significant, everything has meaning, and truth is found in the unlikeliest of places. Here, perhaps? God grant that it be so, if there is a God.
In my defense, may I say that I am a product of the Irish educational system but, as Mark Twain said, I never let my schooling interfere with my education. The only letters I will ever have after my name are R.I.P. If I am going to God, I am going my way (may it also be his). Would you care to join me?
David **** (What do those asterisks mean?)
A Certain Person commented .........a fluent speaker. SHOULD THAT NOT BE EFFLUENT SPEAKER?
Inspired Rubbish
(My first ever post - a mission statement.)
The past provides a rich source of fact, fiction, fun and fancy. I am composed of a unique mix of metaphors, myths and magic, and so are you.
Here, I will attempt to express the inexpressible, say the unsayable and repeat the unrepeatable.
The subject is immaterial, the object is all-important.
Let us get a few facts straight, in order to avoid crooked thinking.
Fact 1: I am Irish. Therefore, I put sound first, tone before content. The truth is true in tone and content. I have found that if something sounds good, or well, as my mother would have said, it makes sound sense. The truth reverberates, sound as a bell.
Fact 2: A fact is a lie and a half, as my father said. It is how the fact is interpreted that matters, and interpretation is in the eye of the beholder.
A taste of things to come, a rhyme written by me:
A Metaphor
I met a metaphor today
It said "I haven't much to say.
You see, I mean two things at once
And might be taken for a dunce."
I wish my writing to be such that its meaning is immediately apparent to the meanest intelligence, such as yours (Groucho Marx).
Genius is of the spirit (anyone can be a genius). Rubbish, crap, shite, call it what you will, are the base materials alchemy seeks to turn into gold. I make no apology for my language, now or in the future. I am made of shit and stars, and so is everyone else.
Await further developments.
David ****
The past provides a rich source of fact, fiction, fun and fancy. I am composed of a unique mix of metaphors, myths and magic, and so are you.
Here, I will attempt to express the inexpressible, say the unsayable and repeat the unrepeatable.
The subject is immaterial, the object is all-important.
Let us get a few facts straight, in order to avoid crooked thinking.
Fact 1: I am Irish. Therefore, I put sound first, tone before content. The truth is true in tone and content. I have found that if something sounds good, or well, as my mother would have said, it makes sound sense. The truth reverberates, sound as a bell.
Fact 2: A fact is a lie and a half, as my father said. It is how the fact is interpreted that matters, and interpretation is in the eye of the beholder.
A taste of things to come, a rhyme written by me:
A Metaphor
I met a metaphor today
It said "I haven't much to say.
You see, I mean two things at once
And might be taken for a dunce."
I wish my writing to be such that its meaning is immediately apparent to the meanest intelligence, such as yours (Groucho Marx).
Genius is of the spirit (anyone can be a genius). Rubbish, crap, shite, call it what you will, are the base materials alchemy seeks to turn into gold. I make no apology for my language, now or in the future. I am made of shit and stars, and so is everyone else.
Await further developments.
David ****
Communication
I forgot to say why my last had its title 'Dublin Damnation'. I know a man who is writing a book, a memoir, and he wanted a title and I thought of that one. He likes it.
The question 'why' looms large. Why does a person wish to blog? To communicate. Communication is a two-way process. A blog is a modern means of communication, the means does not matter, the end does, and the end is communication.
To a beginner, 'how' is an important question. The six questions of Rudyard Kipling need answering, but 'why' is all important.
Freedom is the overriding characteristic of a blog, the freedom to be oneself and express oneself. One realises that, but still must ask those questions, 'how' and 'what'. The answers to those questions are technical ones. As my mother said, first one masters technique, then one expresses feeling.
Neither a blog nor anything else should be treated as an end in itself, that way lies damnation, in the eyes of others if nowhere else.
In discovering how to do anything, we discover ourselves.
Bye,
Uncle Aesop
The question 'why' looms large. Why does a person wish to blog? To communicate. Communication is a two-way process. A blog is a modern means of communication, the means does not matter, the end does, and the end is communication.
To a beginner, 'how' is an important question. The six questions of Rudyard Kipling need answering, but 'why' is all important.
Freedom is the overriding characteristic of a blog, the freedom to be oneself and express oneself. One realises that, but still must ask those questions, 'how' and 'what'. The answers to those questions are technical ones. As my mother said, first one masters technique, then one expresses feeling.
Neither a blog nor anything else should be treated as an end in itself, that way lies damnation, in the eyes of others if nowhere else.
In discovering how to do anything, we discover ourselves.
Bye,
Uncle Aesop
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Are You Averse To Poetry?
To Whom It Concerns (Slightly Prematurely)
Sabh
Is five
And glad to be alive.
Oisin, Oisin,
You never can be queen
But perhaps, and here's the thing
With a little effort you may, in fact, be king.
(Ogden Nash legalised the use of variable line lengths, poetic license knows no bounds).
Uncle Aesop
Sabh
Is five
And glad to be alive.
Oisin, Oisin,
You never can be queen
But perhaps, and here's the thing
With a little effort you may, in fact, be king.
(Ogden Nash legalised the use of variable line lengths, poetic license knows no bounds).
Uncle Aesop
Self Mastery And Spread Betting
I do a little spread betting, currently only on paper. I use technical trading methods (trend following), looking for patterns on share graphs, as distinct from fundamental methods, where a person studies price-earnings ratios and a lot else besides.
Both methods work, when properly applied, that is, they are profitable.
Someone wrote a book called A Random Walk Down Wall Street, claiming share prices were completely random and there is no profitable methodology.
Warren Buffet, the richest man in the world, uses fundamental methods, and successful technical traders say 'Look at my bank balance'.
Technical trading is simpler, there are less parameters, that is why I chose it.
Basically, the books say, there are three requirements (a three legged stool), method, money management and discipline. The third rule is, follow the rules.
As to method, A speaker described two hundred different methods, all of which work. They are all, as it were, the same only different, involving patterns of movement. Someone said all successful traders develop their own style, a methodology that suits them and works for them and that they understand. A person may do as I am doing now, test out their chosen methodology in the real world, in real time, on real data, and, when satisfied, enter the real world of spread betting.
Tests have been done over ten or more years of data.
I use a standard computer with the Sharescope program in the version which gives daily closing prices (there is also a real time version for day traders). This costs about three hundred pounds a year for the data feed, giving the share prices. The program also provides graphs with moving average lines and other features, and is easy to use.
Bets may be placed on line with a spread betting firm with a few key entries and mouse clicks.
You don't even need a computer. A man in his seventies uses only the Financial Times closing prices and telephones in his bets.
Money management basically means never risking more that ten or fifteen per cent of your trading capital at any one time and never risking more than you can afford to lose.
The minimum bet sizes are approximately fifty cents a point (a movement of one cent) on American shares. Bets may also be placed on currencies, commodities (oil, etc.) and indices, both in an upward and downward direction. Stop losses should be placed, and may be moved as often as you like, at no cost to you.
I took a day trade on Google some time ago, betting fifty cents a point, using the spreadbetting company's own real time graph, and made a profit of one hundred and three euros within about an hour. From looking at graphs, I knew that Google sometimes moves up or down about twenty dollars in a day (two thousand points), and it appeared to be shooting up. I placed a bet, with my first stop loss set back at a position where I would lose about twenty euros if the share moved down (I was betting upwards). I moved my stop loss up every few minutes as the price rose, staying a bit behind the price to allow for fluctuations, moving it probably fifteen times in all. Shortly after entering the trade, the bet was at break even, then it moved into what is called 'locked in profit', i.e., if the price moved backwards it would have hit my stop loss, the bet would have ended, and I would make the points gain multiplied by the bet per point (fifty cents). Eventually, when I had the final stop loss placed, the price moved backwards, hitting my stop loss, and the bet was over.
I would not normally bet on Google because, at over five hundred dollars a share, the amount I could lose would be too great.
On paper, for testing purposes, I limit myself to shares having a value between ten and fifty dollars.
It has been said that there is a continual turnover of traders, not just in spreadbetting. They come in, lose all their money, then new ones come in. Only ten per cent of traders are successful and stay the course.
What differentiates them? One word: discipline.
And the failures? Where do they go wrong? A myriad of ways. Greed is a big factor. They have a few wins, then abandon money management, then everything goes wrong.
Or egotism comes into play, they think their success is due to themself, not the system, abandon the system, and that is the end.
In trading, you will, of course, always have losses, no system is perfect, otherwise everyone would do it, but most people would still probably lose because they would not follow the rules.
Keep your losses small (use stop losses and bets-per-point appropriate to your budget) and let your profits ride, that is the maxim. You can lose on seventy per cent of your bets and still make a profit.
It is the same in every walk of life, in every occupation. So many people know the rules, so few follow them. Learning the rules is basically simple, mastering the self is the hard part. Look at the great snooker players, they are masters of self control.
I do my virtual trading with my brother, it takes an hour or less per day. One day my brother told a friend of ours that we had ten bets out and everyone of them won. "Were you using the system?" our friend asked. Of course we were, otherwise we might as well stick pins in paper to pick our bets. We had similar success on at least one other occasion. By and large, over the last few months, we are winning on paper. In reality, I would limit myself to three bets out at any one time, but for practice purposes we limit the number to ten.
Someone said about investing in real shares, your portfolio should not include more than ten shares, because otherwise it is too hard to keep track of them.
Regarding technical trading, one of the traders whose books I bought said he could teach it to an eleven year old and he would out-perform most fund managers.
Have you ever asked yourself why there are so few successful people in any walk of life? The magic ingredient is dedication, putting purpose first, putting what you are doing first, which means putting the self aside. Humility wins, egotism fails. (The meek shall inherit the earth).
The true masters are masters of self-mastery. Or to put it another way, in mastering a subject, you master yourself.
The rules are simple, following them is the hard part.
I am not sure whether I will actually enter the real world of spread betting, though I have accounts with two spread betting firms, I prefer writing.
Both methods work, when properly applied, that is, they are profitable.
Someone wrote a book called A Random Walk Down Wall Street, claiming share prices were completely random and there is no profitable methodology.
Warren Buffet, the richest man in the world, uses fundamental methods, and successful technical traders say 'Look at my bank balance'.
Technical trading is simpler, there are less parameters, that is why I chose it.
Basically, the books say, there are three requirements (a three legged stool), method, money management and discipline. The third rule is, follow the rules.
As to method, A speaker described two hundred different methods, all of which work. They are all, as it were, the same only different, involving patterns of movement. Someone said all successful traders develop their own style, a methodology that suits them and works for them and that they understand. A person may do as I am doing now, test out their chosen methodology in the real world, in real time, on real data, and, when satisfied, enter the real world of spread betting.
Tests have been done over ten or more years of data.
I use a standard computer with the Sharescope program in the version which gives daily closing prices (there is also a real time version for day traders). This costs about three hundred pounds a year for the data feed, giving the share prices. The program also provides graphs with moving average lines and other features, and is easy to use.
Bets may be placed on line with a spread betting firm with a few key entries and mouse clicks.
You don't even need a computer. A man in his seventies uses only the Financial Times closing prices and telephones in his bets.
Money management basically means never risking more that ten or fifteen per cent of your trading capital at any one time and never risking more than you can afford to lose.
The minimum bet sizes are approximately fifty cents a point (a movement of one cent) on American shares. Bets may also be placed on currencies, commodities (oil, etc.) and indices, both in an upward and downward direction. Stop losses should be placed, and may be moved as often as you like, at no cost to you.
I took a day trade on Google some time ago, betting fifty cents a point, using the spreadbetting company's own real time graph, and made a profit of one hundred and three euros within about an hour. From looking at graphs, I knew that Google sometimes moves up or down about twenty dollars in a day (two thousand points), and it appeared to be shooting up. I placed a bet, with my first stop loss set back at a position where I would lose about twenty euros if the share moved down (I was betting upwards). I moved my stop loss up every few minutes as the price rose, staying a bit behind the price to allow for fluctuations, moving it probably fifteen times in all. Shortly after entering the trade, the bet was at break even, then it moved into what is called 'locked in profit', i.e., if the price moved backwards it would have hit my stop loss, the bet would have ended, and I would make the points gain multiplied by the bet per point (fifty cents). Eventually, when I had the final stop loss placed, the price moved backwards, hitting my stop loss, and the bet was over.
I would not normally bet on Google because, at over five hundred dollars a share, the amount I could lose would be too great.
On paper, for testing purposes, I limit myself to shares having a value between ten and fifty dollars.
It has been said that there is a continual turnover of traders, not just in spreadbetting. They come in, lose all their money, then new ones come in. Only ten per cent of traders are successful and stay the course.
What differentiates them? One word: discipline.
And the failures? Where do they go wrong? A myriad of ways. Greed is a big factor. They have a few wins, then abandon money management, then everything goes wrong.
Or egotism comes into play, they think their success is due to themself, not the system, abandon the system, and that is the end.
In trading, you will, of course, always have losses, no system is perfect, otherwise everyone would do it, but most people would still probably lose because they would not follow the rules.
Keep your losses small (use stop losses and bets-per-point appropriate to your budget) and let your profits ride, that is the maxim. You can lose on seventy per cent of your bets and still make a profit.
It is the same in every walk of life, in every occupation. So many people know the rules, so few follow them. Learning the rules is basically simple, mastering the self is the hard part. Look at the great snooker players, they are masters of self control.
I do my virtual trading with my brother, it takes an hour or less per day. One day my brother told a friend of ours that we had ten bets out and everyone of them won. "Were you using the system?" our friend asked. Of course we were, otherwise we might as well stick pins in paper to pick our bets. We had similar success on at least one other occasion. By and large, over the last few months, we are winning on paper. In reality, I would limit myself to three bets out at any one time, but for practice purposes we limit the number to ten.
Someone said about investing in real shares, your portfolio should not include more than ten shares, because otherwise it is too hard to keep track of them.
Regarding technical trading, one of the traders whose books I bought said he could teach it to an eleven year old and he would out-perform most fund managers.
Have you ever asked yourself why there are so few successful people in any walk of life? The magic ingredient is dedication, putting purpose first, putting what you are doing first, which means putting the self aside. Humility wins, egotism fails. (The meek shall inherit the earth).
The true masters are masters of self-mastery. Or to put it another way, in mastering a subject, you master yourself.
The rules are simple, following them is the hard part.
I am not sure whether I will actually enter the real world of spread betting, though I have accounts with two spread betting firms, I prefer writing.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Saint Augustine's Prayer
A Second Letter To My Brother, Whom I Call L'Innommable
19th November, 2009.
Speaking purely for myself, and who else can I speak for, I would be prepared to offer you an indemnity, if that is what you seek, in order to restore fraternal relations.
We must bear in mind that the truth is a double-edged sword, it cuts both ways. I would want an equal, opposite indemnification from you. Never ask anyone to give you something you are not prepared to give yourself. Let no one stand on their high horse.
'Girlie' said you are not asking for indemnification, I said you were. We don't understand what your letters mean, Girlie said you don't understand them yourself. Sentences without verbs are incomprehensible.
An agreement that neither of us would ever seek to take advantage of the other and would never give the other cause to seek justice against each other is agreeable to me, if that is what it takes to satisfy you. Each of us should be prepared to meet the other half way, to go the extra mile. I am. Are you?
All of us (and I include you in that number) should bear in mind that saying of our mother's, when you sup with the Devil, use a long spoon. Selling one's soul for a mess of pottage is a bad deal which, as a deal maker, you should know. A deal signed with the Devil is not worth the paper its written on, because the Devil only tells lies. Let us not treat each other as the Devil.
May our prayer not be Saint Augustine's one, Lord make me good, but not yet.
We have all had ample time over the length of our lives to demonstrate our humanity, and our time is not up yet, but may be shorter than we think. Let humanity prevail.
When we were 'conspiring' Girlie said we (including you) should sort it out around a table. I said that would not work. She said we should be Christian. Bishop (you know who I mean) said 'We do want to be Christian, we want to crucify him because of what he did to us'.
The law took its course. We (excluding you) literally danced in the street at the result.
Let us not crucify each other. I remind you of a time during the existence of our family firm when someone rang asking for one of the three of us by surname and it turned out to be Bishop they were asking for. I said 'There are three Mr. Whatever-our-names-are here'. Bishop said 'Three divine persons'.
Shall we show our divinity?
Speaking of our mother, her grave has lain unmarked for twentyseven years. As it appears to us, you had money and we had none, Mr. Moneybags. A burden shared is a burden halved, or divided by six in this case. Are you prepared to come in with the rest of us to erect a suitable memorial? It could be done through me costing, possibly, not as much as one thousand euros each. Please reply to this part of the message, if no other.
Not wishing to end on a mercenary note,
I remain,
Your loving brother,
Signing myself as,
Uncle Aesop
19th November, 2009.
Speaking purely for myself, and who else can I speak for, I would be prepared to offer you an indemnity, if that is what you seek, in order to restore fraternal relations.
We must bear in mind that the truth is a double-edged sword, it cuts both ways. I would want an equal, opposite indemnification from you. Never ask anyone to give you something you are not prepared to give yourself. Let no one stand on their high horse.
'Girlie' said you are not asking for indemnification, I said you were. We don't understand what your letters mean, Girlie said you don't understand them yourself. Sentences without verbs are incomprehensible.
An agreement that neither of us would ever seek to take advantage of the other and would never give the other cause to seek justice against each other is agreeable to me, if that is what it takes to satisfy you. Each of us should be prepared to meet the other half way, to go the extra mile. I am. Are you?
All of us (and I include you in that number) should bear in mind that saying of our mother's, when you sup with the Devil, use a long spoon. Selling one's soul for a mess of pottage is a bad deal which, as a deal maker, you should know. A deal signed with the Devil is not worth the paper its written on, because the Devil only tells lies. Let us not treat each other as the Devil.
May our prayer not be Saint Augustine's one, Lord make me good, but not yet.
We have all had ample time over the length of our lives to demonstrate our humanity, and our time is not up yet, but may be shorter than we think. Let humanity prevail.
When we were 'conspiring' Girlie said we (including you) should sort it out around a table. I said that would not work. She said we should be Christian. Bishop (you know who I mean) said 'We do want to be Christian, we want to crucify him because of what he did to us'.
The law took its course. We (excluding you) literally danced in the street at the result.
Let us not crucify each other. I remind you of a time during the existence of our family firm when someone rang asking for one of the three of us by surname and it turned out to be Bishop they were asking for. I said 'There are three Mr. Whatever-our-names-are here'. Bishop said 'Three divine persons'.
Shall we show our divinity?
Speaking of our mother, her grave has lain unmarked for twentyseven years. As it appears to us, you had money and we had none, Mr. Moneybags. A burden shared is a burden halved, or divided by six in this case. Are you prepared to come in with the rest of us to erect a suitable memorial? It could be done through me costing, possibly, not as much as one thousand euros each. Please reply to this part of the message, if no other.
Not wishing to end on a mercenary note,
I remain,
Your loving brother,
Signing myself as,
Uncle Aesop
A Dialogue
Person One: What do you call a black man flying a plane?
Person Two: I don't know.
Person One: A pilot, you racist.
Person Two got the answer wrong because he or she treated it as a trick question.
Life is not a trick question. It is a dialogue between you and God (who may or may not exist). You provide the answer in how you live, your life is a one-act drama. You believe or you don't believe, choosing quality or quantity, the choice is yours.
Why is racism wrong?
Because it is materialistic. It treats quantity as all important, whereas quantity is merely that through which we must see quality. Quality counts.
It is fun to ask my first question of a politically correct person, and hear them saying they don't know. After giving the answer, tell them "You are not supposed to differentiate".
Note how I proceed from the specific to the general, and back again. GO TO THE WELL FOR WATER _ BRING IT HOME_ THEN DRINK IT AND LIVE ON> ELSE YOU MAY DIE OF THIRST>
(The last part printed in large capitals because I pressed some fucking wrong key on the keyboard, I am typing this in the semi-darkness).
Politically correct people, when asked a question, ask themselves 'What answer am I supposed to give?' instead of just answering the question. They are modern brainwashers.
Too-clever-by-half people treat every question as a trick question, whereas every question deserves only one answer, a true one.
Preserve us from people who are all knowing and no understanding.
In eternal terms, the answer to the question which we are posed is a simple one, the question is the answer. Frame your answer in terms of the question, each question, large or small, must be answered on its own terms. Each detail is part of the whole.
Much of life is made up of apparently inconsequential trivia, but do not mistake appearance for reality. Reality is the essence or meaning of the real.
The real is that through which we must perceive reality and there are none so blind as those who don't want to see. See not the thing, but the meaning of the thing. In broad terms life, in narrow terms you or the thing perceived, and may they be as one. See them as such and act accordingly.
This comes in dribs and drabs, and I pass it on.
My search is a search for clarity, in, of, through, and with expression, a search for clarity itself.
A litany of prepositions.
May I and my writing be true in preposition as in verb, the greatest of these is the verb to be which, as you may have noticed, is an irregular verb.
We all have our own way of being and being true. The truth is extraordinary, giving the lie to the ordinary.
That the ordinary and the extraordinary may be one, that is my prayer.
I will leave it at that, lest I go on too long.
David
Person Two: I don't know.
Person One: A pilot, you racist.
Person Two got the answer wrong because he or she treated it as a trick question.
Life is not a trick question. It is a dialogue between you and God (who may or may not exist). You provide the answer in how you live, your life is a one-act drama. You believe or you don't believe, choosing quality or quantity, the choice is yours.
Why is racism wrong?
Because it is materialistic. It treats quantity as all important, whereas quantity is merely that through which we must see quality. Quality counts.
It is fun to ask my first question of a politically correct person, and hear them saying they don't know. After giving the answer, tell them "You are not supposed to differentiate".
Note how I proceed from the specific to the general, and back again. GO TO THE WELL FOR WATER _ BRING IT HOME_ THEN DRINK IT AND LIVE ON> ELSE YOU MAY DIE OF THIRST>
(The last part printed in large capitals because I pressed some fucking wrong key on the keyboard, I am typing this in the semi-darkness).
Politically correct people, when asked a question, ask themselves 'What answer am I supposed to give?' instead of just answering the question. They are modern brainwashers.
Too-clever-by-half people treat every question as a trick question, whereas every question deserves only one answer, a true one.
Preserve us from people who are all knowing and no understanding.
In eternal terms, the answer to the question which we are posed is a simple one, the question is the answer. Frame your answer in terms of the question, each question, large or small, must be answered on its own terms. Each detail is part of the whole.
Much of life is made up of apparently inconsequential trivia, but do not mistake appearance for reality. Reality is the essence or meaning of the real.
The real is that through which we must perceive reality and there are none so blind as those who don't want to see. See not the thing, but the meaning of the thing. In broad terms life, in narrow terms you or the thing perceived, and may they be as one. See them as such and act accordingly.
This comes in dribs and drabs, and I pass it on.
My search is a search for clarity, in, of, through, and with expression, a search for clarity itself.
A litany of prepositions.
May I and my writing be true in preposition as in verb, the greatest of these is the verb to be which, as you may have noticed, is an irregular verb.
We all have our own way of being and being true. The truth is extraordinary, giving the lie to the ordinary.
That the ordinary and the extraordinary may be one, that is my prayer.
I will leave it at that, lest I go on too long.
David
A Confession
I confess to Almighty God I don't believe in God.
That expression is laughable because self contradictory (how do you confess to someone in whos existence you do not believe?)
To me, the truth is God, and love is what I feel for the truth, both in all their forms and shapes and sizes, finite or infinite, as the case may or may not be.
I don't believe in God, the entity, but maybe.......
How does this grab you?
There are two kinds of people I hate, racists and niggers.
Another self contradictory statement.
Our subject matters are God, love, truth, hatred and racism. That's enough to be going on with.
That expression is laughable because self contradictory (how do you confess to someone in whos existence you do not believe?)
To me, the truth is God, and love is what I feel for the truth, both in all their forms and shapes and sizes, finite or infinite, as the case may or may not be.
I don't believe in God, the entity, but maybe.......
How does this grab you?
There are two kinds of people I hate, racists and niggers.
Another self contradictory statement.
Our subject matters are God, love, truth, hatred and racism. That's enough to be going on with.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
A Circular Argument
(note to myself: this may require a little editing - D)
We were at 'Girlie's' cottage, Bishop, herself and I. She said I should not have sent all my emails to everyone. I said I stopped doing that because of something Skywalker said (he said it was selfish, my thoughts would be more suited to a blog, then everyone could read them at their leisure). She said Egghead had just stopped reading my emails.
She said 'Anyway, I don't agree with your saying that (no one should do or say anything they wouldn't want broadcast live on international television)'.
Me: Why not?
She: People wouldn't like it.
Me: Why not?
She: I wouldn't like it.
Me: Why, what are you going to do or say that you wouldn't want anyone to know about? I never do or say anything I wouldn't say to everyone.
She: I wouldn't like it.
Bishop: What about going to the toilet?
Me: That's prudishness (anyway, why would anyone want to look?). Warren Buffet, who is the world's richest man, said never to do a deal you would not like to see in ten inch headlines in the newspaper next day.
She: That's different.
Me: He is an honest man.
She continued in this vein, adamantly saying I was wrong because people would not like it, but not saying why.
Me: Honest people would not mind, crooks wouldn't like it.
(Each of us said the other was wrong, I said we agree to differ).
Me: You call yourself religious. The truth stands naked, as our mother said, it has nothing to hide. One day you will stand naked before God. (No room for hypocrisy then).
I said her attitude was middleclass hypocrisy (bourgeois morality). She said it was not.
She: Everyone does not want everyone to know everything about them.
Me: Why not?
She: I wouldn't like it.
The argument went round in circles.
I said there were people called 'the lace curtain Irish', peering out at everyone but not wanting anyone else to know anything about them (as well as being snobs).
The argument appeared circular, as if it would go on for ever, each of us saying the other was wrong.
I said, anyway, I have stopped sending out those emails, and the topic changed.
One's own family are often the most difficult to deal with. As far as I remember, I had been sending everyone's emails to everyone else, not that there were many of them, and Girlie herself had asked me to send all Why's to her, which I also sent to everyone else. I asked 'Why do people send your own message back to you when they reply?' She said she often did that, it was easier that way. On another occasion she said I could have cut off the repeated message, she contradicted herself. She had asked me to send them, and I sent them as received.
In fact, there is no one rule for every occasion, circumstances alter cases.
To contradict myself, there is one rule, and one rule only, be true.
It appears to me Girlie's argument rested on mere assertion.
I know she is not alone, the world is run by a gang of crooks who would back her up every step of the way.
As Devil's advocate, I might say, would it not be that if you are dealing with crooks you don't want them to know what you are going to do? Why not? Suppose you are going to be true?
(True Story: A priest was walking past a man in a pub when the man said 'I don't believe in God'. 'Perhaps it doesn't suit you to believe in him', the priest replied.
That story is apropos of something or nothing, you pays your money and you takes your choice).
'I may not agree with what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say it' - Voltaire.
A friend who read some of my earlier pieces said some of my quotes were misattributed. I said I don't care who said anything, nothing is true because of who said it, it is true because it is true. At a later stage, I will correct any misattributions, if they are brought to my attention.
My family and other animals.
P.S. People should not know everything about everyone else, they should understand everything about everyone else and the first thing to know is the difference between knowing and understanding.
Knowledge is not a weapon and is misused as such, it is that through which we may gain understanding.
David
We were at 'Girlie's' cottage, Bishop, herself and I. She said I should not have sent all my emails to everyone. I said I stopped doing that because of something Skywalker said (he said it was selfish, my thoughts would be more suited to a blog, then everyone could read them at their leisure). She said Egghead had just stopped reading my emails.
She said 'Anyway, I don't agree with your saying that (no one should do or say anything they wouldn't want broadcast live on international television)'.
Me: Why not?
She: People wouldn't like it.
Me: Why not?
She: I wouldn't like it.
Me: Why, what are you going to do or say that you wouldn't want anyone to know about? I never do or say anything I wouldn't say to everyone.
She: I wouldn't like it.
Bishop: What about going to the toilet?
Me: That's prudishness (anyway, why would anyone want to look?). Warren Buffet, who is the world's richest man, said never to do a deal you would not like to see in ten inch headlines in the newspaper next day.
She: That's different.
Me: He is an honest man.
She continued in this vein, adamantly saying I was wrong because people would not like it, but not saying why.
Me: Honest people would not mind, crooks wouldn't like it.
(Each of us said the other was wrong, I said we agree to differ).
Me: You call yourself religious. The truth stands naked, as our mother said, it has nothing to hide. One day you will stand naked before God. (No room for hypocrisy then).
I said her attitude was middleclass hypocrisy (bourgeois morality). She said it was not.
She: Everyone does not want everyone to know everything about them.
Me: Why not?
She: I wouldn't like it.
The argument went round in circles.
I said there were people called 'the lace curtain Irish', peering out at everyone but not wanting anyone else to know anything about them (as well as being snobs).
The argument appeared circular, as if it would go on for ever, each of us saying the other was wrong.
I said, anyway, I have stopped sending out those emails, and the topic changed.
One's own family are often the most difficult to deal with. As far as I remember, I had been sending everyone's emails to everyone else, not that there were many of them, and Girlie herself had asked me to send all Why's to her, which I also sent to everyone else. I asked 'Why do people send your own message back to you when they reply?' She said she often did that, it was easier that way. On another occasion she said I could have cut off the repeated message, she contradicted herself. She had asked me to send them, and I sent them as received.
In fact, there is no one rule for every occasion, circumstances alter cases.
To contradict myself, there is one rule, and one rule only, be true.
It appears to me Girlie's argument rested on mere assertion.
I know she is not alone, the world is run by a gang of crooks who would back her up every step of the way.
As Devil's advocate, I might say, would it not be that if you are dealing with crooks you don't want them to know what you are going to do? Why not? Suppose you are going to be true?
(True Story: A priest was walking past a man in a pub when the man said 'I don't believe in God'. 'Perhaps it doesn't suit you to believe in him', the priest replied.
That story is apropos of something or nothing, you pays your money and you takes your choice).
'I may not agree with what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say it' - Voltaire.
A friend who read some of my earlier pieces said some of my quotes were misattributed. I said I don't care who said anything, nothing is true because of who said it, it is true because it is true. At a later stage, I will correct any misattributions, if they are brought to my attention.
My family and other animals.
P.S. People should not know everything about everyone else, they should understand everything about everyone else and the first thing to know is the difference between knowing and understanding.
Knowledge is not a weapon and is misused as such, it is that through which we may gain understanding.
David
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Fragments
Fragments of thought and feeling, that is what this piece is composed of. I thought or felt several things and wondered were they suitable to write, and regretted when I had let the feelings go that I had not written them, so I write this now, as I feel, what I feel.
I attended Elisabeth Petcu's exhibition on the opening day, it was a great success. Paintings, drawings, sculpture and music, all from the one hand. I bought a bird whistle, ten euros, which has, as I said in the visitors' book, a charming simplicity. I will go back to the gallery and buy another for my sister, Storyteller, who loves simple things.
Elisabeth has given me great encouragement with my writing, saying of my 'How To Write' piece 'David's piece brought tears to my eyes, I'm going to print it out and read it many times'. At the exhibition, she again complimented me, and said she saw parallels with music in what I had written. I said 'All art comes from the same source'.
There was not much time to talk with her, there were so many people there. Many pieces were sold before the opening talk, given by my sister, 'Girlie', who spoke off the cuff, having lost her notes and, as I said to her, all the better for that. Yesterday she told me 'They ran out of sold stickers' so many pieces were sold.
The exhibition is at the Kilternan Gallery, a really nice and charming little venue in county Wicklow. Elisabeth had a high position in the R.T.E. symphony orchestra, being chief flautist. She has only recently taken up the visual arts, including pottery and sculpture, which she mixes to great effect.
I remarked to Girlie, I hope she does not get any better at it, becoming 'sophisticated' and losing her gift of simplicity, which lends her work its charm.
This piece has the appearance of a letter, and is by way of experiment, merely writing as I said, as I feel, how I feel, what I feel. We must relearn how to feel and give expression to our feelings, helping to banish unfeelingness from an unfeeling world.
David
I attended Elisabeth Petcu's exhibition on the opening day, it was a great success. Paintings, drawings, sculpture and music, all from the one hand. I bought a bird whistle, ten euros, which has, as I said in the visitors' book, a charming simplicity. I will go back to the gallery and buy another for my sister, Storyteller, who loves simple things.
Elisabeth has given me great encouragement with my writing, saying of my 'How To Write' piece 'David's piece brought tears to my eyes, I'm going to print it out and read it many times'. At the exhibition, she again complimented me, and said she saw parallels with music in what I had written. I said 'All art comes from the same source'.
There was not much time to talk with her, there were so many people there. Many pieces were sold before the opening talk, given by my sister, 'Girlie', who spoke off the cuff, having lost her notes and, as I said to her, all the better for that. Yesterday she told me 'They ran out of sold stickers' so many pieces were sold.
The exhibition is at the Kilternan Gallery, a really nice and charming little venue in county Wicklow. Elisabeth had a high position in the R.T.E. symphony orchestra, being chief flautist. She has only recently taken up the visual arts, including pottery and sculpture, which she mixes to great effect.
I remarked to Girlie, I hope she does not get any better at it, becoming 'sophisticated' and losing her gift of simplicity, which lends her work its charm.
This piece has the appearance of a letter, and is by way of experiment, merely writing as I said, as I feel, how I feel, what I feel. We must relearn how to feel and give expression to our feelings, helping to banish unfeelingness from an unfeeling world.
David
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Cute Hoors
Inspired by an article in the Financial Times............
In Ireland, when people say "Cute Hoor", they mean someone who always puts himself first.
They say "You'd want to watch him, that fella, he's a cute hoor, he'll try to pull the wool over your eyes, that fella".
(Cute hoors learn the law to find a way to wriggle round it, they go by the letter not the spirit and love legal technicalities. Drug dealers and other merchants of death do the same).
Cute hoor politicians, cute hoor property developers and cute hoor bankers got us into the mess we are in, and they want us to pay for it.
At one time, Liam Carroll, property developer, was responsible for most of the building going on in Dublin. Frank McDonald, writing on the environment, said "They are our future slums". Tiny apartments, difficult to get into, and furniture won't fit up the stairs.
Cute hoor politicians give their friends million euro handshakes when they have been found out for fiddling, on the basis that this is the norm. They do this because they don't want them spilling the beans.
What about all the pensions they give themselves while they are still on the payroll?
George Orwell said the reason politicians speak the way they do is to conceal the fact that they are saying nothing.
We vote for them.
Who will protect us from ourselves?
In Ireland, when people say "Cute Hoor", they mean someone who always puts himself first.
They say "You'd want to watch him, that fella, he's a cute hoor, he'll try to pull the wool over your eyes, that fella".
(Cute hoors learn the law to find a way to wriggle round it, they go by the letter not the spirit and love legal technicalities. Drug dealers and other merchants of death do the same).
Cute hoor politicians, cute hoor property developers and cute hoor bankers got us into the mess we are in, and they want us to pay for it.
At one time, Liam Carroll, property developer, was responsible for most of the building going on in Dublin. Frank McDonald, writing on the environment, said "They are our future slums". Tiny apartments, difficult to get into, and furniture won't fit up the stairs.
Cute hoor politicians give their friends million euro handshakes when they have been found out for fiddling, on the basis that this is the norm. They do this because they don't want them spilling the beans.
What about all the pensions they give themselves while they are still on the payroll?
George Orwell said the reason politicians speak the way they do is to conceal the fact that they are saying nothing.
We vote for them.
Who will protect us from ourselves?
Friday, November 13, 2009
Astrology and Astrophysics
Coming up to the year two thousand, a neighbour said the world would end in that year. "Was she disappointed when it didn't?" asked my sister-in-law. The same neighbour said, in all seriousness, that an old man told her when they put up the first satellite, it would ruin the weather.
There are several sayings about old people, there's no fool like an old fool, you can't teach an old dog new tricks, a wise old man. Use these phrases as and when appropriate.
Some people say that the fairies left Ireland when electrification came in. I said that to a man my brother and I gave a lift to. He said the fairies took him once. He said it lasted for about an hour, it was a frosty night, he was in a field.......I stopped listening.
(This was recently).
In the eighties (of the last century) there was the moving statues phenomenon, when crowds gathered to look at religious statues, some said they saw the statue move, others said if you stare at anything long enough, your eyes play tricks on you. Bus loads of people came to look.
There was a joke going around at the time. A statue was walking across the road when it was hit by a car. It was totally paralysed.
Rural electrification took place in Ireland in the nineteen thirties. When an old woman, who had never boiled water except on an open fire, saw an electric kettle brought to the boil, she said "It's the work of the divil himself".
In the year of Our Lord, two thousand and nine, N-O-W now, people still believe in this stuff and are gathering to look at mysterious tree stumps and alleged apparitions.
When my brother and I worked in a car park, two Australians came back for their car after walking around Dublin. "Did you see any leprechauns?" asked my brother, jokingly. My nephew, out of earshot, said "Only tourists believe in leprechauns".
I saw an hour-long television program, via satellite, in which tarot cards and other such were presented as fact by a man with an American accent, bringing medieval superstition into the digital age.
How about Old Moore's Almanac, a yearly publication, making predictions for the year ahead, which is on sale and is bought in this country?
Mother Ireland, you're rearing them yet.
David **** (Our fate, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves - Shakespeare).
Family Matters
I have decided to name or rename some family members. From now on Holy Sister will be called Girlie, for reasons known to a select few. Unholy Sister shall be called Storyteller, because she is a gifted storyteller with an original turn of phrase. My as yet unnamed (by me) brother I name Bishop, because, as a boy, he wished to be a bishop, without going through the tedious formality of becoming a priest.
A story about, or concerning, each of these.
1. When Girlie was a teenager she had a summer job at Butlins holiday camp. There was lots of the boy-girl thing going on. Some fellow said to her "You were very cutting to such-a-boy last night. He is only learning". "I don't want him to learn on me", Girlie said.
2. When we were still talking to each other, L'Innommable and I were talking about Storyteller. "Why does she fly off the handle so easily?" I said (she has mellowed since), "but she's a great story teller. If I could tell stories like that I'd never do anything else". "I was in a restaurant with her when she was telling a story," said L'Innommable. "The whole restaurant went quiet. Everyone was listening to her. They never heard anything like it". (I bet you didn't know that, Storyteller).
3. When Bishop was fourteen years old, he was set an essay on The Power of the Press. We had a family engineering works which had a hundred ton press for shaping metal. (They have the same thing in Detroit, on a larger scale, for forming car bodies). He wrote his essay on those. He was supposed to write about the newspaper industry. (He tells this story himself, I'm sure he won't mind me telling it).
My older brother I shall call Grey Eminence, Eminence Grise, or Old Greybeard, as the spirit moves me. He is addicted to punning. Once, I was sitting on the other side of the table from him, I thought he looked as Sophocles might have looked, sage like, for that reason, and no other, I asked him "Is it permissible for a younger brother to offer sage advice to an older brother?" "If he has the thyme," my brother replied.
I better tell a story against myself, to make up for those above. When I was sixteen years old, I sat in the kitchen, alone with my mother, my head in my hand, wondering if I meant anything, if anything meant anything, and so on. "Mammy," I asked, "Do you love me?" What did she say? "Of course I love you, otherwise how could I put up with you."
Ah yes, my mother. A woman came to our house, making a terrible fuss, saying our dog had chased her on her motorbike, and my mother had to appear at the district court. "Did you suggest to my client that she should see a doctor?" she was asked. "I thought he might prescribe a sedative," she replied.
I like the title of Gerald Durrell's book, My Family And Other Animals. Some animals are very lovable.
David ****
A Blog is Born
A child in the womb hears nothing but its mother's heartbeat, muffled thunder, and feels her pulse and its own pulse and is warm and cosy with its mother's blood flowing through its veins and associates all of its feelings with warmth and happiness. Then it is born. It becomes aware of its own faculties, its senses, and learns to interact with its environment, through these, at first wordlessly, then it learns to speak. The child is happiest when at one with the world, and realises that.
When a blog is born, it goes through similar stages. There is, for the blogger, a (steep) learning curve. The blogger learns about the (blogging) environment and himself at the same time and his purpose is that the one (himself) should be in harmony with the other. I am on that learning curve. Through mastering technicalities the blogger learns mastery of the self. All must be effortless. When is something not hard? When it is easy. When is it easy? When you know how. When do you know how? When you understand. The purpose of my blog is the promotion of understanding.
We are on this journey together.
Each life story is the journey of a soul.
David
Dublin Damnation
Wed 11/11/09
Wed 11/11/2009
Wed 11/11/2009
To A Certain Person and everyone else
Hi,
My blog now has thirteen posts on board, the most recent being one suggested by you.
What I am doing and saying and writing appears an inchoate, formless mass up to this point.
My blog is evolving, and so am I, along with it.
Bishop discovered, put away, two books on blogging, one of which we have now a second copy, but it may be returned to Hodges Figgis, he has a good relationship with them, because he buys many books there.
This appears to be the case.
When you start a blog, you must get it connected (to the outside world).
Your idea of submitting it for an award is a good one.
It seems to be the case that there are several awards and several directories, to which people go, and to which a blog should be connected.
Then, the blogger (me, in this instance) should read other blogs, leave a comment on them, and point back to my own blog.
By the quality of ones comments one is judged. If people find you
readable, they will want to read more.
Here is an insight.
If you want to be listened to, you must listen to others.
Tell Oominor I said she does not need to reply to my agency request, I must learn that (some) people mean what they say.
Your brother, whom I call Skywalker, made some pertinent comments, which I have taken on board.
As regards that insight above, someone else said it first, in these words 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you'.
We must discover truths for ourselves, but we may share insights.
As regards getting the whole hang of this blogging thing, I understand things in terms of principle (there is no other way), once you have grasped the principle everything else is obvious.
We do not understand in terms of what but of why. Explanations given
in materialistic terms are not explanations. A (very) good book on
blogging remains to be written.
First comes an overview, then a judicious mixture of what and why, this is difficult to explain, it is an attempt to explain explanations themselves.
What is always, and should always be treated as, subservient to why.
What serves the purpose of why. Purpose is paramount. Or, to
put it another way, there must be a reason for our actions. Poor
teachers put what first, thinking, if they think at all, that knowing is understanding.
I will leave you on that note.
David
Its So Easy
I was speaking to ACP on the phone. "I have a joke for you", I said. "Is it suitable for children?" he asked. After a slight pause, I said "Yes" (not all my jokes are). "Hold on, I'll just turn the speaker on", he said. (ACP has three children, the eldest is ten).
"Are they ready?" I asked. "They're ready", he said.
"I'm going to tell a joke, or rather two jokes," I said. "They have the same theme, which means subject. In the army, the soldiers are asking for compensation, which means money, for going deaf from firing guns. That should be a joke, but it isn't. Here is the first joke.
Half the army haven't put in for deafness claims. They haven't heard about it yet.
That was the first joke, here is the second one.
Soldiers were queuing up to have their hearing tested for their deafness claims. The first one went in, and the officer asked him to close the door, and, when he did he said 'You're not deaf, send in the next man'. The next soldier came in, and the same thing happened. On his way out, the soldier said to the next man 'He's very clever. Don't do anything he says'.
So the the third soldier went in, and the doctor said 'Close the door'. 'Close it yourself,' the soldier said'.
"Did they get it?" I asked ACP. "They got it", he said.
The title of this post is taken from a Buddy Holly song - 'People tell me love's for fools, so I here I go, breaking all of the rules' - then the the refrain - it's a lovely, easy going song.
It's easy to blog, it's easy to write, when you get the hang of it. As I said in my 'How to Write' piece, as you feel, how you feel.
My brother just asked me what I was doing. "Blogging", I said. "You're learning by doing", he said.
The subject of a piece may be absolutely anything, anything that evokes a feeling. Writing is the transmission of feeling, as is music.
I am learning by doing.
"Are they ready?" I asked. "They're ready", he said.
"I'm going to tell a joke, or rather two jokes," I said. "They have the same theme, which means subject. In the army, the soldiers are asking for compensation, which means money, for going deaf from firing guns. That should be a joke, but it isn't. Here is the first joke.
Half the army haven't put in for deafness claims. They haven't heard about it yet.
That was the first joke, here is the second one.
Soldiers were queuing up to have their hearing tested for their deafness claims. The first one went in, and the officer asked him to close the door, and, when he did he said 'You're not deaf, send in the next man'. The next soldier came in, and the same thing happened. On his way out, the soldier said to the next man 'He's very clever. Don't do anything he says'.
So the the third soldier went in, and the doctor said 'Close the door'. 'Close it yourself,' the soldier said'.
"Did they get it?" I asked ACP. "They got it", he said.
The title of this post is taken from a Buddy Holly song - 'People tell me love's for fools, so I here I go, breaking all of the rules' - then the the refrain - it's a lovely, easy going song.
It's easy to blog, it's easy to write, when you get the hang of it. As I said in my 'How to Write' piece, as you feel, how you feel.
My brother just asked me what I was doing. "Blogging", I said. "You're learning by doing", he said.
The subject of a piece may be absolutely anything, anything that evokes a feeling. Writing is the transmission of feeling, as is music.
I am learning by doing.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Learning The Game
This is my first post to be typed directly into the blog. I had been either writing them into a word processor or writing them as e-mails, and then cutting and pasting to the blog. A Certain Person (ACP for short) said they are meant to be typed in directly. It certainly saves a lot of hassle, cutting and pasting, and editing out of addresses and so on. Instead, go directly to source, and then the blogger has charge of layout as well as wording.
ACP, when I gave you that name I said you are 'often' right, 'usually' (more often than 'often') would be more correct. Sometime, I will go back and change that word.
The title of this post is taken from a lovely Buddy Holly song. I would like my posts to be as good as a Buddy Holly song.
Transferring from a known environment into the unknown should be done whole heartedly, go all the way, it is so much better and easier.
My writing method is to either write by hand on to paper, or directly at the keyboard, as now. Either way produces satisfactory results.
In Maeve Binchy's book on writing, someone says if you don't enjoy your work, why should anyone else.
My next few posts will be pasted and edited from e-mails, but they will be the last. Thanks, ACP. (Tell me, what is the significance of 'Labels', as distinct from the title of a post? I have given this post the title 'Learning to Blog'.)
David ****
ACP, when I gave you that name I said you are 'often' right, 'usually' (more often than 'often') would be more correct. Sometime, I will go back and change that word.
The title of this post is taken from a lovely Buddy Holly song. I would like my posts to be as good as a Buddy Holly song.
Transferring from a known environment into the unknown should be done whole heartedly, go all the way, it is so much better and easier.
My writing method is to either write by hand on to paper, or directly at the keyboard, as now. Either way produces satisfactory results.
In Maeve Binchy's book on writing, someone says if you don't enjoy your work, why should anyone else.
My next few posts will be pasted and edited from e-mails, but they will be the last. Thanks, ACP. (Tell me, what is the significance of 'Labels', as distinct from the title of a post? I have given this post the title 'Learning to Blog'.)
David ****
The Truth Defined
This post is referred to in my previous post ‘The Truth Is Coming’, which should be read first, to put this in context. See also ‘Talking To Myself’, which enclosed both that and this post as well.
D
(Peter, Van Gogh, Leonardo – note, your name is bracketed with the greats).
Peter,
You ask what is truth, pointing at the handle of a cup. What is the truth of that handle? The truth of that handle is the truth of all handles, that it possesses the quality of handleness. If it serves the function of being a handle, then it is true, then it is worthy of being called a handle. The truth must be put first, both by the designer and the maker, then it will serve its purpose, which is to satisfy the user. Its truth does not reside merely in the fact that it is (we have all seen bad handles). To be is to be true, all else is false.
The truth is all pervasive, and its other name is God. The denial of truth is the denial of God. Heaven in a grain of sand – William Blake. Inanimate objects, not man made, serve their purpose merely by being. We, however, are self aware and can choose, as Hamlet said, to be or not to be.
Our purpose is to serve the truth of being, by being true. True to the material from which we are formed, which is all we know and are, to find and seek the truth in that world and universe, and give expression to it in how we are and what we do and make, which is ultimately what we make of our lives. We choose how we are, what is immaterial, we may be a road sweeper.
Our true purpose is to serve the truth, by being a true cup handle, metaphorically speaking. When quality is put first, quantity is ennobled, and quality and quantity are one.
Everywhere, the truth is denied whereas the truth is the meaning in an apparently meaningless universe, of which we are a part. The truth is that which we must seek and seek to convey, in our words and our actions. By being true to ourselves, we are true to others. Be true to your materials.
I hope this is of some use.
As an artist, you should be concerned with the bigger picture (joke, but many a true word is spoken in jest).
Everywhere, everything is treated as meaningless, but that is not to say that it is meaningless, merely that the truth is denied. Quality is treated as non-existent, whereas it is what we all seek. The symbol is not the thing symbolised, but the truth is when they are one. We can but try.
Seek, and ye shall find. When a person goes to an art gallery, he is seeking truth, although he may not know it, in the form of a painting.
I got up out of bed to write this.
You ask a worthy question, the question of all questions, what is truth? The truth is not a what but rather a how, and the answer is when how and what are combined.
Next time, perhaps you will ask a greater question, why?
The answer will be one and the same, in so many words, in a manner of speaking.
Yours speechlessly,
David
PS I could have said, did you eat rat poison for your breakfast this morning? It would not have been true food if you did. Now you know what the truth is.
D
The Truth Is Coming
Dear (young lady),
Enclosed find a letter I wrote to a friend of mine, an artist, a painter, a long time friend. He is a good artist and a good friend, with some sort of mumbo jumbo philosophy which I have not tried to understand, which he does not often bring into a conversation, but which appears to be totally off the wall and meaning, if it means anything, that nothing means anything.
Anyway, yesterday I was sitting alone with him in his kitchen talking about I don’t know what when I must have used the word “truth” and Peter asked “What is truth?” This more or less floored me, coming from an apparently intelligent man (did he want a true answer?) Then he pointed at the most trivial object to hand, the handle of a cup, and asked “What is the truth of that handle?” I may have mumbled something like “It is a handle” and then a few larger ways of looking at truth were raised and the subject was dropped, Peter apparently having won the argument (his argument being there is no truth and his argument being false because if his argument is true then there is truth).
I am not a slot machine. I don’t (always) provide instant answers. The truth comes dropping slow, to paraphrase a poem by W. B. Yeats. The answer, or an answer to Peter’s argument came to me in the early hours of the morning, and I wrote the enclosed.
I asked a friend of mine, a working-class man, a craftsman, to read it and I asked him did he understand it. He said “Yes”. He said “If he (Peter) doesn’t know what truth is now, he will never know,” or words to that effect.
The reason I asked that friend whether he understood the letter is twofold or, possibly threefold. First, I want my words, written or spoken, to be understandable by absolutely anyone. Second, I am from the middle, or upper middle class sector of society and there is a danger I might express myself in a way understandable to the class from which I spring, but not to others, or so I feared.
However, as a child, I found that, when reading a very well written book, such as the Sherlock Holmes books, words new to the reader are understandable from the context. Words truly used are clear, as to meaning. Third, Christ expressed himself in words understandable to a child and no one should express themselves otherwise.
****
About two hours have elapsed since I wrote the above words, I had my lunch and did something with my brother on the computer. That was at home, now I am in a hotel. Its virtually empty, being
I want to say something about class, social class, which raised its ugly head some while ago in these pages. It is artificial, manmade and meaningless. Someone wrote about Jesus and social class. His father was a carpenter, that is the skilled working class. He worked as a fisherman, that is a rung further down the ladder, unskilled work. He had a friend who was a prostitute, the lowest of the low. He went to a party, that was middle class. What may be said in sum? Class meant nothing to him.
Oscar Wilde said there are only two kinds of books, good books and bad books. The same may be said of people. The theologian, Teilhard de Chardin, of whom you may or may not have heard, said “People are not equal, they are complementary”.
Finally, finally this letter to you seems to be coming to an end. Why did I decide to send you the enclosed letter? This afternoon, at this hotel, I was outside at the outside tables (it was a fine day), I still had not sent the letter to Peter, and I thought you might like that letter. Something about you, something about how you responded or did not respond when I used the expression “A cross to bear” on the phone to you recently. Also, you have something about you, genuineness, which is always a pleasure to meet.
There is a saying, “What everyone knows is wrong”. To an old friend of mine, I said “Suffering is good”. “How else do we learn?”, he replied.
On that note, goodbye for now,
Love (Uncle Aesop)
When I spoke on the telephone to the young lady to whom this letter is addressed she said she was in a hurry when she read it and thought ‘love’, the second last word in this letter, was ‘ coming on a bit strong’, (nothing about the content). I composed several letters to her defending love, inside or outside of quotation marks, but sent none of them. I may post one to her and on this blog, as the spirit moves me.
Young people typically are busy, busy, busy. What is this life if full of care we have no time to stand and stare?
D
Monday, November 2, 2009
A Tortured Soul
(The word 'Loon' here is an internal family joke. When we were young, we had a family of that name living in out gatelodge, and we told L'Innomable that he was not really a member of our family, because he was the only one with fair hair, he was a Loon).
Don’t Be A Loon
.
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My brother is a tortured soul, his response being to torture the soul of others. The tortured becomes the torturer. L’Innommable (the unnameable), as I call him elsewhere, has divorced himself from his original family although he does not agree with divorce. He, and we, should remember what our uncle said, There is a little bit of good in the worst of us and a little bit of bad in the best of us.
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Billy, come home.
.
At least, ring your brother in
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As you sow, so shall you reap.
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I will let Johnny Cash sing my last words for me, Come home, come home, its supper time.
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Your loving brother,
.
David (****)
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(The above has been sent to the man himself, and I don’t mean The Man Upstairs, although it may have gone via Him).
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