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Daze of the Weak:  No. 62 [27 Jun 2010|05:17pm]
Saturday afternoon

I'm getting on a bit and becoming increasingly aware that my thinking isn't as sharp as it used to be, so I was quite pleased to catch this man talking on the radio. What he said jolted me into remembering a thought that I think I once had when my mind was more agile. It seemed like an epiphany at the time.

I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure it was a program about crime, eye witnesses and false memories.

I can't remember his exact words now, but I recall that my thoughts went something like, "In the land of the blind the one-eyed man is as deaf as the next bloke."
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Daze of the Weak:  No. 61 [03 Jun 2009|05:43pm]
Wednesday, 6 PM

Last night I noticed how many things around the house need repairing, so I made a plan of action.

I got up early this morning and started by collecting up all the bent things I could find, then when I had a neat pile, I settled down to bending them all straight.

I was so pleased with myself when I had finished by lunch time that I decided to treat myself to a break and spend some time searching the internet for stuff about "bending things".

I found a blog dedicated to the subject that was very thought provoking and showed there was more to the subject than first meets the eye. I read this thread where somebody argued that you couldn't "bend things straight"; "Bending things straight" was semantically incorrect, so one should talk about straightening things that were bent instead. If you bent something that was already bent it would end up more bent not less. He went on to say that such sloppy use of the language was not only symptomatic of the rot in the fabric of modern society, but it's unquestioned acceptance made it part of the slovenliness that was the cause of declining standards.

I was not so proud of my earlier achievement now. I gathered everything back together again and bent them to how they first were, contemplating that now, in fact, they were really three times as bent as when I first found them, then I meticulously straightened each and every one of them.

It took a long time, but at least I can be pleased that I also did my bit to reverse the lethargy that is causing the rot in the fabric of modern society.

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Daze of the Weak:  No. 60 [15 Apr 2009|02:12pm]
Wednesday 11 AM

I made a sticky mess this morning.

I tried to clean it up but only managed to spread it around into a bigger, thinner sticky patch. I thought I would scrape it all back together again and start from scratch. Well, I did get it all together again, but it was a different kind of stick mess - with dust and crumbs and curly hairs in it.

"This is a good metaphor for life." I thought. Life is about change. You can always change your mind, but if you change some things you can't always change them back again, even if you have changed your mind.

"Where on Earth did that thought come from?" I wondered. Then I remembered: I have a letter to post. I think it's finished and says all the things I want to say, and says them in a way I would like to say them, but I'm never sure. I was reminding myself that once I have put the letter in the postbox I can't un-post it.

On the other hand, like I thought before, life is all about change. If I don't post the letter then nothing will have changed, so I won't have a life.

I think I've taught myself something valuable. I can post things and have a life, or not post things and save the worry about not un-posting them. Two clear choices.

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Conversations:   No. 115 [25 Mar 2009|02:12pm]
Hi Bruv'. How's things?

Yeah, okay I guess.

You don't sound too sure. Usual? Red wine?

Thanks. I'm loosing my ability to communicate.

Uhh ohh..., been arguing again have we?

Not really. Got to talking with that lot who hang about outside Kwikki Nosh. I was saying what seems obvious, but they just couldn't - or wouldn't - get it. They slagged me down without even listening.

Politics again?

Whooah. No way! I shut it on that subject down there. No, I was trying to get across the simple idea that diet was as important to the development of the brain and intelligence as it is to physical fitness.

Hahahaa... No chance there Mate! They'll never grasp that one.

Why not?

They eat the wrong kind of food!

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Daze of the Weak:  No. 59 [17 Mar 2009|01:48pm]
Tuesday afternoon

Yesterday I found myself in a situation where I was trying to pretend to look like a fraud, but I wasn't. I was only attempting to illustrate the hypothesis that appearances steer history more than the underlying truth does.

I had proved my point because before I got the chance to conclude that appearances must be part of the truth, they'd stormed off, shouting about how I had broken their trust and things would never be the same between us again.

Oh well, I guess I'll find another friend some day.

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Daze of the Weak:  No. 58 [15 Feb 2009|03:21pm]

Lying in bed last night I started thinking about the house.
I realised there is a lot of beige.
I haven't thought about beige since it went out of fashion.
It must have been thirty years ago.
I asked myself if I should redecorate.
The problem is it is a big house.
Then it struck me that fashions go in cycles.
It would take a lot less energy to be patient than to paint all the walls and change all the tiles.
Then I remembered the Boy Scouts motto "Be Prepared".

I shall go out and buy some beige shirts while they are still cheap.

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Twenty Shades of Wibberish - No.29 [24 Dec 2008|02:54am]
Wibbledom Abbey - The Notional Gallery
Santa Bean design © Bolb
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Twenty Shades of Grey - No.14 [22 Dec 2008|04:10pm]
My Brown Mouse
Three in the morning.

Thin curtains drawn across the night billow gracefully for the passing ghosts of memories.

Candles flicker, casting wisps of sweet vanilla breath into a swirling airborne waltz.   A slow motion dance that fades gracefully into the unending dark pool of time.....   turning so slowly...,   and yet the smoky curls are gone before they can be caught.
The last thin echoes of saxophone follow them as the Hi-Fi, duty done, patiently awaits instruction.

I throw another log on the hungry grate to feed the moving rusty light that flutters across my face, hypnotising, soothing, drawing out the day's toil.   The warm flames lick my ancient cheeks and rimed eyes clean of heavily soiled spirits, like a faithful hound, pleased to see me again after so much time.

Silence!   The final song has gone and given back the night to the dance of the fire.
Tap,...   .... tap,..   tap,..   tap,...   .... tap,...   tap..
Silence is broken as a moth butts his head against the window pane, drawn by the promise of a passionate embrace with the flickering flame of candle.
To lose himself must he be burned?
Sacrifice his wings...,   his heart?
Will no lesser passion do?
Promise!   So much blindly burning promise!
Yet I see a Moth...,   a Man...,   who knows his fate...
...who's only fear is that he may miss it.

The night is so full tonight!   The night is so full...
...for just another empty night.

I wonder where my little brown mouse is?
Will my heart skip as my ears catch the tiny sound of her tiny toes pattering on the wooden floor?
Will she emerge from her dark corner, to sit alone.
A neatly curled bundle of shining brown fur, washing delicate nose and whiskers with perfect tiny fingers?

A small brown bag of shining secrets.
Does she bathe in the same dancing shadows that lick me?
She never sees me!   I set to stillness at the first scratch of those nervous little feet.
Her face knows only the touch of her own sweet fingers.
No one ever taught her how to see another, touch another.
No one ever showed her how they see her.
No one ever told her how she touches them

Could I ever trick you, catch you,
hold your soft brown body in my hands?
Would you burn?   A sacrificial token to feed the fading candle of an old man's passion?
No,   ...you will never know me!

Oh empty night,
     she does not know how much she is loved!

Wibby          3 AM Tuesday the Ninth of September 2003

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The Art of Changing Perspective [14 Dec 2008|05:24pm]
The World is the way the World is!
Beneath some shallow ripples on her surface
she changes little and slowly.
The thing that changes fastest is the way we look at her.

Observations from the Attic,  Number 34.       St Anley of Monkton  636 - 689 A.D.
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Twenty Shades of Wibberish:  No.28 [13 Dec 2008|04:24pm]


I don't read very much because it is hard work, but a friend who I have never met (She lives in another country), Carlinos, wrote some interesting stuff recently about the link between food and mental health. It got me thinking.

There is a theory that eating natural untainted food helps mood and clarity of thinking, while eating a poor diet of processed food can exacerbate anxiety and depression and affect ones ability to think straight, possibly leading to the need for mood enhancing pills in order to cope.

Well, while I am confident in my belief in this theory, since the statistics support it, I'm having trouble with the logic that justifies and explains it. There are at least two possibilities; That good eating promotes clear balanced thinking, or alternatively, that naturally well-balanced thinkers are inherently drawn to a well-balanced diet. This latter possibility could be no more than a coincidence if, for example, a particular set of genes influenced both traits - much the same way that people whose ring finger is longer than their index finger tend to be a lot randier than those with finger lengths the other way round.

I am none the wiser as to how to prove what causes what here: It is very much a "chicken and egg situation", or in my case, a "Free-range chicken and organic egg situation".

Hmm… My inability to sort out such a simple problem is making me very depressed.

Fuck it!

Where's the chocolate and the sodding Vodka?

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Twenty Shades of Wibberish:  No.27 [10 Dec 2008|11:29pm]

God Sat There

God sat there, feeling glum, his chin propped on the palm of his hand as he idly twiddled his white beard with lazy fingers. The six day acid trip had given some fun moments, but now he gazed at his creation feeling empty and jaded. His eyes roamed aimlessly over the infinite detail of the slowly revolving Earth, pausing here and there as some creature or other stumbled along it's path of destiny. Godhood, like this random jumble of life he'd just made, seemed to be meaningless.

Then he saw Her! Her bright eyes smiled up at the dark heavens with a blend of coy innocence wrapped in provocative knowingness. Or was it the other way round? His pulse raced. "Holy fuck-sticks!", he coined a brand new phrase to express his delight. Now a sense of purpose pervaded his omnipotent mind. Inspired, he invented sunshine so that he could see her better.

As the new Sun rose he called to her in a deep resonant voice. "Dawn - I shall call you Dawn!"
She glowed back at him with impish charm, "No Mister. Dawn's over there under that tree, shagging some snake called Adam. I'm her sister, Eve!"

"Fancy an apple?" she innocently enquired, shyly rocking her naked shoulders as she held out the blushing fruit.

He stared down at her in stunned silence. God was mightily confused! What had he created? Thing's seemed to be running quite beyond his control.....!!!

W.I.B  September 2004

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Daze of the Weak:  No. 57 [11 Oct 2008|02:45pm]
Saturday, about Noon

All last night I was thinking about 'Reason'.

Well I am a great believer in logic, in cause and effect and all that. Yes, I am very confident that everything that happens is the result of things that happened before. There is an unfortunate side effect of living in an age of reason though; One needs a jolly good explanation to justify everything that One does and everything that One is.

For example, yesterday somebody demanded to know why I have not cut my beard for over a year. I had to think very hard, combing through all the facts, trends, fears and ideas that are currently holding everyone's attention; The economic meltdown, an ageing population, global warming, nuclear proliferation, knife crime and juvenile delinquency all came to mind.

So anyway, I answered her with a very simple statement: "I have never seen a man with a beard down to his waist who suffered from frostbite of the chin!!"

On reflection it wasn't such a clever answer. Unless the Scientists bring back the Nuclear Winter I'm going to have to think up a new justification before next summer.

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Twenty Shades of Wibberish:  No.26 [04 Oct 2008|01:46pm]


4th October 2008.

Letter to the editor. (For publication.)
Wibbledom Enquirer.

Dear Sir/Madam,

       I am writing to end continuing speculation within the village on my self imposed social isolation.

       Your readers, many of whom know me, will be aware that I have become a recluse who actively avoids social contact.   I find myself in a Catch-22 situation, for when I do come face to face with locals, I am always asked why I haven't been seen around for a while.   The catch is that the aspect of my character that compels me to solitude also seems to preclude me from giving them a satisfactory answer, so I hope this letter will satisfy the curiosity.

       By way of example I am half-minded to explain myself by describing an encounter that I had recently. On this occasion I found myself unable to decline an offer of afternoon tea and scones with a well respected local lady who seemed genuinely concerned for my state of mind.

       I cannot go into detail, since I would feel obliged to be less than truthful and alter details to save embarrassment to those involved, and such deceit is against my nature.   For instance I would use, say, the name Sylvia instead of Virginia and the term 'sister' in place of 'daughter'.  Further, the event did not take place in the Vestry, and I can only suggest that any unexplained stains on the maroon carpet are likely due to the activity of the vicar's excitable pet Spaniel.

       I hope this clarifies the matter and satisfies those who might be concerned for my well being, or the safety of the local community.

Respectfully yours,

Stanley J Gleaning-Oldschool

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Twenty Shades of Black - No.12 [27 Sep 2008|11:09pm]
Eroding Stone
Eroding Stone
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Daze of the Weak:  No. 56 [24 Sep 2008|05:53pm]
Wednesday afternoon

Last night I was dreaming about the world economy. It doesn't seem to work in a logical way.

Some people make things, like ladies in India sewing cotton. They work fourteen hours a day and can't afford makeup or medicine. They shit in a hole in the ground.

Then some people don't make things at all but just shuffle stuff around. City Bankers and Stock Dealers for example. They just shuffle paper mostly. These ones live in million pound houses and buy silicon body enhancements and spend months in the sun on big boats. They have all the things other people make and shit on marble thrones.

I did an experiment this morning.
I didn't make anything, not even a cup of tea!
First I shuffled everything in my cupboards around. Then I shuffled the newspaper so all the page numbers were mixed up. When I had shuffled a deck of cards and all my books I couldn't think of anything else to shuffle so I sat down.

I'm still waiting, but I don't feel any wealthier.

Still, at least I still shit on porcelain

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Daze of the Weak:  No. 55 [13 Sep 2008|07:44pm]

I argued with myself in my sleep last night.
It was about how I haven't written anything down for ages.
I told me it was laziness, but I disagreed.
I explained it's because I've lost inspiration.
I said that if I made an effort inspiration would come.
I retorted that I had made lots of efforts but all I ever managed was to recycle old thoughts that I'd written down years ago.
I got irritated when I said recycling was good and had to point out it's only good when it saves the worlds resources, not when it clutters the world up with even more junk.
That shut me up!

I shall avoid me in the future. I hate a smart arse!

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Daze of the Weak:  No. 54 [08 Aug 2008|01:42pm]

I think it was yesterday that I woke up very worried about the state of my memory.
I'm getting bad at remembering the right things at the right time.
On the other hand I'm very good at remembering things at the wrong time and I'm also good at remembering the wrong things at the right time.

Actually, come to think about it, two out of three isn't bad.

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Daze of the Weak:  No. 53 [12 Jul 2008|08:58am]
Saturday, I think.

These are truly strange times.
I have had many listless days and many sleepless nights.
In fact I had to spend all yesterday recuperating from an extended bout of inactivity.

Yes, truly strange! The day went exactly to plan but I still could not shrug off the feeling I had not achieved anything...

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Conversations:  No. 114 [10 Jul 2008|05:35pm]
I'm amazed by your self confidence. You strut around as if you're the master of the Universe!

Well I don't pretend to know all the answers.

Oh, is that so?

What's your point?

The point is you act as if you do.

Who's acting? Like I just said, I don't pretend.

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Daze of the Weak:  No. 52 [14 Jun 2008|05:29pm]
Saturday 5pm.

Today I remembered two things.

When the internet was quite new I read that it was going to be a wonderful business opportunity.
I also remember doing a Yahoo search on the word "haemorrhoid".
The results page had a big advert in the top left corner. It said "BUY YOUR HAEMERRHOIDS on AMAZON." and In the top right corner was another advert that said "SELL YOUR HAEMERRHOIDS on E-BAY."

If only I had put two and two together and become a middle man I would be a billionaire by now.

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