Factual Attraction

Speaking from the heart is not necessarily a good idea, particularly if the person you're speaking to is listening from the head. 

It's a risk after all. You go out there on a limb and   -  yes, there you are, out on a limb. Like a snail without its shell, like a baby bird with no feathers, while the chilly winds of reason whip about you.

Poets need to remember, I suppose, that not everyone is a poet.  That words don't count, or can't be nearly precise enough to take us where we want to be. As Margaret Attwood said, "the Eskimo have fifty words for snow because it's important to them; there ought to be as many for love".  But there aren't, not even for Margaret. So what hope is there for the rest of us?

Let's stick to the bare facts, then. Stop that romanticising claptrap right now. Bring on the maths and physics, the evaluation and the objective test.

And don't gaze into her eyes like that  -  it doesn't mean anything. The eyes are not the windows to the soul: they are organs for converting light into electromagnetic impulses.

Simple

"Life is short. There is no time to leave important words unsaid."

Paulo Coelho

Be

Life is a series of moments all called now.

We don't know how many of these moments we have left. How many of them do we miss, thinking about the past, worrying about the future? How many of them do we waste doing nothing worthwhile? How many are ruined with unkindness, unpleasantness? Ticked away in boredom?

I know I'm alive when life takes me by the hand, grabs me by the throat, makes my heart skip a beat, kicks me in the guts, looks me in the eye and says: game on. I want to feel the blood rushing, the world spinning, to stay up all night, to stay in bed all day, to be all used up when I go.

I want to live rather than exist. I want to sing not whisper. I want to be the flame, not the moth. Dance with me.

Tumble

Thirteen years since she died and I still miss my Granny.  She was wise - not in a mysterious way, but with a straightforward, olden-times, common-sense approach which seemed hard-wired to fundamental truths.

I was thinking today about some advice she gave, a long time ago now. "Never", she said, "fall for someone who isn't there to catch you".

I didn't listen to her, and look where I am now. So would anyone listen to me, if I dispense some good old-fashioned wisdom myself?

Neolojism

So it turns out that Brian Sewell (who according to the Daily Mail is "posher than the Queen") is not as one might think a sexless neutered artwerk who lives entirely in the realm of the cerebral. In fact he claims to have shagged more than 1000 different partners in a quinquennium. He's the king of the casual pick-up. Who knew?

I also learned a new word from this article. Quinquennium. Words like this are the stock in trade for Mr Sewell, who I am sure bewildered his bus-drivers and engineers and hod-carriers with such pretentious and abstruse vocabulary before inviting them up to see his etchings.

Quinuquennium isn't a new word, it was just new to me, but I could guess its meaning due to my useless, pointless languages degree.  I also came across two new and easily-guessable words this week. Oh how I love new words! And I particularly love these two.

They're two of the one-day courses we offer at the college where I'm a governor. And before you get excited, they're sold out until Easter. We already had a thriving beauty treatment curriculum, and a great line in henna hand-painting for weddings, so we've jumped on the latest bandwagon to offer sessions where one can learn how to vajazzle and twattoo. Popular for honeymoons, holidays, parties (....?) and first dates. This makes dating sound quite scary these days, if that amount of effort is required to get ready.

I looked up these terms on the internet to see if there was a suitable picture for the blogpost. Trust me, there wasn't. Imagine a plucked turkey with some biro drawing on it, and a few stick-on sparkles. It's not very nice - you'll only upset yourself.

However, if you'd like to join a waiting list for one of the courses, let me know and I'll book you on...

Desolate

So finally we have a diagnosis for my nephew, five years after he lost the ability to walk, then to speak, then to swallow, then to move at all.  We were hoping for...... I'm not sure what we were hoping for exactly, other than we were hoping for some hope.

What we are offered is a scenario devoid of hope, and yet also devoid of certainty (bar the eventual outcome). What will happen next? And when? And how fast? And how long might it all take? Will he live until his next birthday? Will he make to 10, to 18? And with what sort of quality of life will he have?

I'm the oldest child of the three of us. I'm supposed to sort things out, support everyone else. And there is nothing I can do to fix things, nor to console.

We are inconsolable.

Gastronauts

"The first time I ate testicles was in Afghanistan".

I'd only just switched the radio on, but already I was gripped. Turned out he was talking about lambs, rather than Abu Ghraib.

Apparently meals should be an adventure (snail porridge, anyone?) you should eat olives whilst stroking a pieces of silk ribbon, and have oysters whilst wearing headphones that play sea-sounds.  I was about to turn over to Kerrang when they started talking more seriously about Marinetti's Manifesto of Futurist Cooking. Now this was really, really interesting. You might not admire his politics, but his fellow Italians hated him much more for his assertion that pasta should be abolished as it causes lassitude, pessimism and a lack of passion.

The presenter introduced a fatuous food-freak who said that children would find meals more exciting if they had made a custard-powder flame thrower first. Maybe so, but I know quite a few kids who would not eat custard as they already know it will kill them for certain, flame-throwing or no.

I couldn't wait to get home and consult the interweb to find out more about Marinetti. I found this description of one of his meals, and wondered if there is anywhere one could try it.

One Futurist dessert, called Italian Breasts in the Sunshine, features almond paste topped with a strawberry, then sprinkled with fresh black pepper. This is one of the few palatable dishes in Marinetti's Futurist Cookbook.

Another entry in the cookbook describes a Tactile Dinner. Pajamas have been prepared for the dinner, each one covered with a different material such as sponge, cork, sandpaper, or felt. As the guests arrive, each puts on a pair of the pajamas. Once all have arrived and are dressed in pajamas, they are taken to an unlit, empty room. Without being able to see, each guest chooses a dinner partner according to their tactile impression. The guests then enter the dining room, which consists of tables for two, and discover the partner they have selected.

The meal begins. The first course is a 'polyrhythmic salad,' which consists of a box containing a bowl of undressed lettuce leaves, dates and grapes. The box has a crank on the left side. Without using cutlery, the guests eat with their right hand while turning the crank with their left. This produces music to which the waiters dance until the course is finished.

The second course is 'magic food', which is served in small bowls covered with tactile materials. The bowl is held in the left hand while the right picks out balls made of caramel and filled with different ingredients such as dried fruits, raw meat, garlic, mashed banana, chocolate, or pepper. The guests cannot guess what flavor they will encounter next.

The third course is 'tactile vegetable garden,' which is a plate of cooked and raw green vegetables without dressing. The guest eats the vegetables without the use of their hands, instead burying their face in the plate of vegetables, feeling the sensation of the greens on their face and lips. Each time a guest raises their head to chew, the waiters spray their face with perfume.

Between each dish the guests finger the pajamas of their dinner partner.

Play with your food. Want to play with me?