Redemption

It’s redemption you’re writing about. I said.

I want to share my story and be an inspiration for others.

But it sounds like you want to explain yourself and get pity. Also you eulogized the life. 

But I don’t mean to

I know but you do. 

Your story is that of the prodigal son. To the pig the muck was good and tasted good but the tale focuses on reunion and the fatted calf.

I’d like people to read my story and avoid what I did.

But you want an audience. This is a journal and at times it reads as a journa one would keep locked by the bed and hope never to have read.  These are private thoughts but when you make them public you must polish them.  We all say we want the unwashed truth but the libraries are full of that. What sells is the gossip column and the afternoon television. If you want an editor or publisher to like your tale you must wash it and dress it up.  It’s even better if there’s work clothes and panties.  A flavour of sex and violence and suffering. All that sells. Not the suffering of poor weather. Perhaps in the 18th century but not today.  Even the prostitutes and warriors have fallen and told all. Aurelius is still on the shelves along with the Story of O.  What does your personal tale add to the cacaphony of sound the audience must choose from.

“It’s my story,” he said, sadly.

“I know but you’re asking it to be ‘their’ story. You want them to buy it and own it and share it. This is a dirty business. Not for the sensitive. Remember that lovely girl who wrote such beautiful songs. One of them was so heart wrenching, Look what they’ve done to my song, Ma.”  Or consider Joni Mitchell. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

The only way you can keep your story your own and pure is if you burn it.  There’s smoke of empires still lingering in the air .  IF that’S what you want you can.  Dying poor and unknown is no novelty. It’s the tragedy of the unsung masses. But you said you wanted to be read.

So your narrative must be moving and interesting. You must get out of your head and provide description.” The master mistress said, moving to the espresso machine where she rinsed the ports filter before filling it with fresh roaster coffee. Placing her cup beneath the spout she flicked the switch.  Watching the tasse fill slowly with that favourite of rushing sounds she shut off the machine when the black liquid gold had reach just the right distance below the rim. Taking the Billy Bee honey from the counter she squeezed a few drops into the steaming brew.   Opening the fridge she took the cream and topped up the espresso to create a crude cafe au lait. She rarely made time to use the steamer. 

You see she said.  Telescoping and Microscoping. Moving in and out of the story.  You are thinking without showing. There’s a flat terrain to your delivery. Your experiences are rich and wonderful like any knight of the realm but in medieval times even the king hired poets to write their exploits. The Irish story tellers were the best adding dragons and describing the world of men in mythical tales. We don’t quite know what is true looking back. Were giants slain or just tiny men telling fish tales in their days claiming to have killed thousands in fields of combat when indeed the numbers were mere dozens.  Mark Twain himself said never let the truth stand in the way of a good story.  Life is fiction when retold. So we simply must get rid of the boring bits as much as the writer cherishes those.

But you cut pages and pages of my work.  Do you know how many years that took to live and how many nights it cost me to write those.”

Yes. I’ve edited myself like a surgeon cutting huge chunks of flesh from a very fat lady to change her rotund featureless person back to the hourglass shape that attracted men to her before her gluttony and sloth took control.  Your excesses of thought and detail, explanation and commentary have no place in the modern world where tv and movies and Netflix compete with the written word more and more often sold in audio.  It’s as outdated as Chaucer and as hard to read.  No wonder the publishers rejected the mess. They couldn’t see the gold in the dross.  You must find the pearl in the clam or it will remain forever on the bottom of the ocean or be set aside by the fat guy at the table who much prefers the tasty bit to the shiny bit.  You must make the distinction and bring the gemstones from the earth to the jeweller or he simply won’t put them on display. It’s no longer about the art. It’s all about marketing. The greatest art is on the refridgerators placed there by loving mothers.  The Louve and all the galleries of the world hold the lesser works.  But they’re polished and mature and we don’t have to change their diapers.

I see

You don’t really. But you may. And if you cut away the fat and make your tale lean you can even through in a touch of commentary and sage wisdom out of the lips of those grey people you skipped in telling the POV of yourself, the lead protagonist, of course, in the memoir. But I want to see and hear what you saw and heard. I don’t want to just listen to your ‘despatches’ as if only your frowning father were the reader. The audience is everyone and the truer you are to the experience the more can join in and pay you for the pleasure of sharing your life. The greatest of movies about art was Being John Malkovetz.  Malkovetz found to his horror that his brain was being rented out for viewing as at a carnival. The best depiction of art ever made in the 20th century.  

A bit like Carry’s movie of his life as a movie with all the others as actors and actress. 

Yes, that was truly perfect. Before he went mad himself.  The artists moves so close to the insane it’s always well to remember Icarus.  Pride is like Avarice much more subtle and sensuous of sins than mere lust. Anger hides so well in passive aggressiveness and neglect that folk today hardly see the ugliness of it. They claim it’s righteous anger when it’s just sordid bitterness.

I don’t agree.

I wouldn’t think you would.  You’re writing on redemption.  That means you’re still seeking. Nothing wrong in that. But it s far from the end of the journey.

Meaning what, they answered in chorus, offended liking squawking baby birds sensing the end to the parents vomit.

Redemption is just the beginning.  Another tale follows that one.  When you simply tell the tale and don’t explain it you will know from your audience what is good.  Watch when they laugh in unison.  Now you feel they would mock you and worry they won’t understand. But the readers always the best critic. I’m just and editor. I’m no further along then you. Just a parallel path in the story. They’re the ones who will pay or not pay unless they are forced to read your work because some institution buys it and insists the young read it. That’s where the real money is, right up there with guns, flags, religious symbols and hats and gowns.  I’d rather a Lamborghini.  You don’t need to be good to get one of those. You can buy it yourself and thumb your nose at the worldly who feign erudition behind closed walls.

You mock academia.

No I envy it. 

Blood and pain

I remember I awoke in exquisite pain. It was horrible. I peed in agony as great clots of blood exited the too narrow hole wrwcking me with pain. You showed little sympathy and yet each moth you’d laid in agony. You groaned despondent. I’d known it was a stone. you’d known it was a stone too. We’re we’re both wise to the viscistudes of the body. Yet I’d had more sympathy was you lay in agony day after day for the curse to pass. You called it that. A thing of biblical proportion. And I just stood in fear not knowing where or whence this pain and blood had come that must exit my body through the tiniest of holes, clots colliding with each other pushing shoulder to shoulder to escape. Yet you go on month to month fully aware you might suffer as I now suffered waiting the dawn.

Will souls collide against one another escaping this life through some small hole racing towards the light in deaths exquisite pain. Glad Gethesame. There is such relief in sleep despite the horrors of the night. These still passages where we remember snippets and cling to sanity in fear. Love is much more open but vulnerable. 

Intellectual conversation

I miss the intellectual conversations we had with such passion. When I felt that I might woo you with my mind. Playing with ideas and designs all the while I wished to know you naked and carnal. I could see your nipples through your silk blouse when for a glance I was distracted from the weaving of formulas of physics and philosophy. I was so fired by the figments of imagination made real in sharing. Your eyes were green and your cheeks flushed and I was aroused just to be with you feeling the pressure in my loins, my heart bursting in my chest as ideas flowed from my lips likes kisses. And you were so alive.

meaningless world

I dreamed I was with a beautiful women. Her skin was ivory. Her breast rode high. We were young. In that special place of magic and wonder. I had seen her naked and hoped that I might again. She wanted to see a movie. ‘Because we’re at this end of town, we should see meaningless world. It should be playing here.’ I agreed though I’d thought to see a different movie playing at the other end of town. At the ticket booth of the old theatre I said, ‘we’d like to see meaningless world and the older woman in a white blouse  said ‘yes, that’s playing and gave us two tickets.

I woke the. The wind was lifting the awning so I got up and let it in. I’d had difficulty peeing the night before. I’d a mild inflammation and worried about being able to pee. I peed with an initial sharp pain but emptied my bladder thankfully. I’d heard two women telling me they had difficulty peeing since their surgery. There was a tinge of pink on the tissue. I felt relieved. 

Last evening I’d read that Tosher had written, ‘Young people seem to think you can except Christ without renouncing the world.” I’d thought about that at sin. There is the strongest tendency to accept one’s own pleasures but renounce those of others. I do like chocolate There’s  the case for venal sin. The deadly sins are pride, envy, anger, gluttony, sloth, avarice, lust.  The lawyers of the church with their pride and intellectualism are forever hair splitting like accountants working for you to find loopholes to lessen the overwhelming burden of taxes.

I imagine aging that perhaps life could be a vacation. This place of toil and beauty might just be a world of wonder which we resist for fear of becoming lost in the rabbit holes of sin. 

What if we have said no to chocolate or lust or sloth and avarice and missed the very deliciousness of sin. This world is sin. Sin is missing the mark in archers lanfuage. I’m aiming for a higher target and the arrow strikes elsewhere. There is such absurdity in life. 

Something as tiny as a virus or a bruise can cause pain and interfere with elimination. Too much cheese and a person might suffer contemplation.

‘Everything in moderation,” says the ancient physician, 

But it is with pain I know I am alive, she says, planning another child, with glee and wickedness. Meanwhile  old men clay games of chess and talk. The ladies make a pot of tea and consider having biscuits.

How did you choose to be an anal surgeon? I asked. 

I saw the relief it gave. He said. We were washing our hands again and again in the ancient ritual. I still get thank you cards from patients who’d not been able to go and I restored that function.

I reflected on the way I restored the flow. My psychic surgical work,, the rabbit holes and the tinge of pink. 

I think I’ll have another chocolate I said with no shame but just a little decadent delicious venal guilt.

Nov.10, Elections, Remembrance Day

Covid continues with a promise of a new vaccine. Pfiser and BioNTech shows 90% efficacy in trials. The Elections continue with massive fraud and outrageous democrat behaviour. We saw them looting and pillaging in the streets, attacking police and blocking cities. That was blue collar democrats, funded by George Soros, lead by brown shirt Bolshevik groups like ANTIFA and BLM.  Now we see the same irresponsible immature anti law and anti order behaviour by the white collar leaders of the Democrats.  Before the elections are over Biden announces he has won and sets up an “Office of the President Elect.’  It’s a veritable coup.  Harris who used sex like Eva Brawn to move up the political ladder claims herself a black American while Indian newspapers celebrate a South Asian woman as potential VP.  This is the party that has promoted abortion third stage and beyond for profit and body parts, has pushed euthanasia, illegal immigration, celebrated voting without ID, and generally been a ‘pro death’ party only to have the voters turn out en mass to be dead. Meanwhile this Zombie Virus created by Joe Biden’s, Trudeau’s, Fauci’s and Xi Jinping friends in the WuHan labs spreads through the world. Ironically the US is blamed for the Communist Chinese attack on the world while Zombie voters appears en mass to support their candidate Joe Biden. It’s macabre to say the least.  

Thankfully Tucker” and Kayleigh continue to speak with honesty.  Democrat media are emotionally stretched to the limit and breaking. All over drug abuse is ramped up and nations profit from alcohol sales and now marijuana sales.  Hallucinogens are the new therapy agents.

Laura spent the weekend. It seems rather Little House on the Prairies.  We enjoyed making meals, walking and going to the mall to get winter clothes. We are looking forward to a new puppy and anxious about increasing public health restrictions while thousands of doctors are reacting in anger against the unscientific lockdowns.  It’s bizarre.  Turn off the media and life is simple.  The future is uncertain.  Many are suffering loss of employment and bankruptcies. In my work I see the despair, anxiety and suffering.  

Me muddle along. Another day.  

Remembrance Day. Tomorrow. Our fathers and grandfathers fought to protect the world from National Socialism (NAZIism) and International Socialism (Communism). Meanwhile the Democrat leaders are identifying freedom fighters and patriots and making lists to deny them work or position in their New World Order. Agenda 21 and the Davos 2030 ‘ReSet”.  Trudeau looks more and more sick, possessed really and friends talk about the ‘end days’.  His eyes are more and more satanic and look like the eyes of someone who has been up doing drugs all night with pornography and whiskey. He rarely comes out of his basement.  He squints in to the light. Meanwhile psychiatrists in the US have diagnosed Trump as narcissist don’t want to drug test Trudeau and insist that Biden is not demented and that his criminal cocaine addicted son Hunter is an angel.  White is black. Black is white.  The question is what is worse, the corruption or the media cover ups.  

I like taking pictures of birds.  I love the new women’s fashions.  Laura and I have enjoyed the historical fiction out of England.  The detective shows are great too.  

I’m reading the Bible,looking for support. I’m praying and exercising.  Each day it’s still fog.  I think a lot of my Dad, the RCAF veteran and his joy at joining his buddies on Remembrance Day. I remember them saying of the government today, ‘we didn’t go to war to let these criminals take over the country’.  I’m looking forward to Rainbow Bridge, Heaven and St. Peter answering some questions about Kennedy and Khrushchev.  I don’t expect to see a whole lot of politicians when I get there , if I get there.  I miss my mom and grand mother and know they’ll be there.  I believe good still exists despite Nietzsche and Marx.  

Thank you Jesus.  God is great all of the time. 

Sunday, Crazy World Times

Laura and I just returned from a walk.  She liked looking at the dogs.  I missed Gilbert.  We talked about the new puppy whose en route. 

Do you think the Covid restrictions could interfere with his coming.

I don’t think so but at worst I’d pick him up

The restrictions are only to Hope.

I believe it’s going to be okay. It’s the waiting that’s bad.

The salmon were still running upstream. I took more pictures. Fish pictures aren’t as exciting as bird pictures. No birds today. I did take one picture of Laura. 

I’m kind of irritable.  The election and the lies and the corruption have worn me down.  Repeated notices of voter fraud and the mainstream media calling Trump supporters delusional for saying there’s voter fraud.  It’s all a matter of black is white and white is black. I’ve felt what Bonhoffer must have felt.  

All this furor about a woman and black woman whose clearly brown and is East Indian or as they say ‘south Asian’. This is a great day to be celebrated. Really?  My mother and grand mother and all the women of my family would have hated her. A woman whose obvious gifts are sexual prowess. Yet Trump was excoriated because he described such a woman in locker room terms. I can’t wait till the Harris tape comes out with her saying, “You just grab the men by the dick. That’s all it takes.”  How many dozens of men can come through and say she lied to them? All double standard. What’s good for the gander is good for the gander. And what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Are women more hypocritical than men? Or is that just how it seems. Doublespeak.  

1984.  More double standard or no standards. 

Trudeau looks more stoned everyday. His eyes are saucers and he can’t even deliver his lines. We’re not even allowed to know whose feeding him his script. He’s always wearing a prompter. Is it’s XiJinping. Biden. Soros. He doesn’t look capable of a coherent thought yet we’re supposed to be happy that a guy who knows nothing about science or economics talks about his socks. First Obama and the socks and now Trudeau and the socks. What’s with the socks? 

Meanwhile It’s a sunny day. I’ve got nothing to complain about. Except Covid and the restrictions.  Covid and the restrictions are sure hurting a lot of people more than me. I’m feeling such sadness talking to patients devastated and alienated. 

Of course they’re anxious. Of course they’re depressed.  No it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Talk to people. Get out and exercise.  Take some more medication.  Don’t do drugs. Don’t overdose before the miracle happens. I don’t feel like I used to feel when I more positive. This is like the doldrums. I was in the middle of the ocean bobbing about waiting days for a wind that eventually came.  That’s what this feels like. 

I just read Dean Koontz book, The Watchers .  Lovely exciting read.  I’m in that between books space.  I think I’ll listen to the audio book by Louise Penny I’ve been enjoying .I bought a hard copy for Laura knowing she’d like it as much as I do.  That’s the problem with kindle and audio books, can’t share so easily.  We loved watching Girl in the Spiders Web last night on Netflix. I’d bought this roast which turned out spectacular in the gas stove with Laura setting the timer and taking it out at perfection.  

It’s been a full weekend with Laura visiting. Next week is a short week with a day off for Remembrance Day Wednesday. I loved in later years going to the cenataph with Dad so he could be with the old vets’. Growing up he had his blue RCAF jacket in the front room. It only came out for Remembrance Day. At the Ottawa war museum he loved to visit the bombers and talk about his time as a bombardier on the west coast. 

“I think we bombed a whale but they insisted it was a Japanese sub.”  He’d say.

He was most fascinated by the tail gunner position where his childhood friend had spent the war with several tours in Europe.  They’d gone to a one room school house as boys. Both had survived the war.  He was in his 90’s then.  I miss him. 

 

Friday, Burnaby Lake, Media Election

Laura and I had a lovely walk in the sun to Burnaby Lake. Great trail. No bikes.  Everyone enjoying the peace and quiet.  We finally arrived at the lake where the ducks hang out, glad for the seed treats people bring. I saw the Mandarin Duck again. The wood ducks are always there. The delight this time was the Green Winged Teal. Also loved the Red Winged Black Birds. 

 It was a wonderful escape from the cacaphony of the election. It really is disturbing , all the corporate corruption and election graft.  I don’t like Biden.  A corporate ‘nice imposter’, with the monster son who he uses. 

Then there’s Kamala, the US Eva Brawn. I thought Obama was more than his colour but to hear women on FB Kamala is just a brown vagina. Any brown vagina who gets a head is good enough for them. I can’t recall ever thinking like that about men or women. I was raised on meritocracy and believed the best pilot should fly the plane. That’s all gone now with Identity Politics and Gender Studies.  All men in Canada are primarily in their job because of their penis and a vagina would do better.  It’s South Africa all over again where white is now murdered by blacks and still there are people who think that is good. I am so out of it. I really have these outdated ideas of ‘Love thy neighbour.’  But Islam is not Christian. Communism is the religion of Aetheism. 

I look back on my life and all the times I didn’t stoop to be have like a Trudeau or a Biden cost me financially.  Now it’s all about euthanasia and MAiD.  God is great all of the time.  In this world the authorities killed Jesus.  Canada is a war monger state that lies.  Trudeau just sold 80 billion dollars in weapons and brought in more measures of dictatorship than his bro, Obama, whose spying on citizens is second only to Communist China and Koumeni Islam.  I am afraid. I’ve been brash and outspoken. My friends say they learned to ‘whisper’ in Islam.  The leaders of Islam are celebrating the beheading of anyone who makes fun of their God who clearly has no sense of humor despite being a joke to anyone not ruled by the sword. 

I’m actually enjoying my life. I’m safe. For now. I’ve heat and shelter and running water and indoor plumbing. I have all those physiological needs that Maslow said were basic. I have friends and family and my emotional needs are met. I have work and purpose and meaning so that I’m likely to survive even Auschwitz given what Victor Frankl said of his experience as a psychiatrist. The issue is self actualization.  Poets and writers are always the first killed in totalitarian states. I’ve been passed over for promotion because I’ve believed in objective truth and stated it against the lies of leadership. I’ve watched a blatant lying psychopaths fiction been preferred to sane truth by the corrupt authorities. 

It’s been worse each year but now I’m rather old and easily wasted. I can be disappeared or arrested and no one cares. The very leaders of Hong Kong are now in jail for questioning the evil Borg regime of Xi JinPing, Trudeau’s friend and likely lover.  Nothing makes sense of present day politics except the lists of those who met together on Epstein’s Island.  They are all anti Trump. I disagree with pedophilia even if that sentiment is no longer consider a true Canadian value. I celebrate adult sexuality between consenting adults and object to the Courts persisting in the sexist chivalry and political decisions.  But I’m passe. I reread the last of King Lear and hoped that that was not what we were seeing here.  Cornelia as Ivanka. 

 I don’t like George Soros, the Nazi sympathizer any more than I like Hanoi Jane and Benghazi HIllary or alleged pedophile Trudeau the stoner and liar. But frankly I don’t know these people. 

I met Trudeau’s father, an intellectual cold fish, loved the power and leadership of Chrétien who I met as well. I also thoroughly respected Turner who I spent a day with and truly admired Harper who I spent an evening with.  The difference is that these are real people. All these other images I speak about, Trump, Biden, Kamala, are media characatures.  Comic strip people created by dumbed down leftist corporate America. The translation of world by the low brow likes of corrupt Zuckerberg, a rather evil little man who thoroughly delights in abusing powers and others as the Congress hearings have taught us. These corporate leaders are not the stuff of history.  

I loved walking and looking at the colourful birds. It was good to be with Laura. We missed Gilbert, our cockapoo and talk a lot about a coming puppy.  She has her sister, children, grand children. I’ve nephews and family in the distance, friends here. But it was the dog I lived for. I miss the dogs and cats.  I’m rather lonely in my empty house thankful for a visit from Laura in these Covid times of isolation and alienation.  

I had hoped for some relief and reassurance with the election but Xi JinPing continues to rule the world with the UN at his bidding and he now looks to invade Taiwan as he has Hong Kong. That concerns me.  Clearly Trump was a formidable leader whose skills challenged the low brow stoner trust fund mentality of slacker Trudeau.  Bide and Kamala with their criminal histories will work with Quebec’s corrupt corporate SNC Lavalin. There’s more destruction of the middle class, my class and the elite will continue to get richer and more powerful with a new Maga Carta in the works but nothing for us squished down with the peasants to fit the Marxist binary vision.  We’ll get more free Heroin and free Marijuana and maybe more cheap sex with younger and younger people  The temple boys and girls given instead of work and position that gives one self esteem.  

I’ve chosen good over wrong. I’ve been a moral and ethical person.  This is Rome and the Empire moves along.  The Dark Star has always been there. Jesus said that this world was ruled by Satan. It’s all Money and Power. Marx said, Money is the God of the Jews.  Money and power is all that communism is about. Power is all that Sharia is about.   Satan is more apparent now.  I didn’t see the powers and principalities when I was young even though I read Brothers Karamasov.  It’s taken age to help me appreciate the wisdom of the classics.

I may have to stop writing to avoid jail or to avoid economic reprisal but I can continue to take pictures of birds. I’m too old to get by with sexual favours but I could sell a kidney if the need arose.  Others will face that.  It was so sad to see the active drug addicts in Malaysia and India.  The power of AA in Mexico was wonderful to see. The Church has always been there in times of terror and strife.  These are dark times. Gandhi said that we needed to meditate more. Martin Luther King said, it’s going to be a tough day, so need to spend more time one our knees.  

Thank you Jesus for all the blessings I’ve known and have today.  Guide me this day and in the days to come. Help me be of service to my fellow man and woman. St. Patrick protect me. Christ in front of me. Christ behind me. Christ to the left of me. Christ to the right of me. Christ beneath me. Christ above me. Christ within me and Christ without. Christ in the thoughts that everyone has of me. Holy Spirit come.  Hallelujah. God is good all of the time. Thank you St. Francis for the birds.

Red winged black bird

Duckie

Dowitcher

Mandarin duck

Green winged teal

Wood duck

Bird voyeur with Nikon and chef’s hat beret