Ten minute interlude

You probably think I am being lazy, or have lost interest.
Perhaps you think I have simply run out of steam?
Conversely, you may think that I am overworked.
You might think I have gone on holiday to a wild, remote place.
What a lovely sense of humour you have!
No, none of the above. I just have not blogged.
I am busy with the inner self.
It’s quite a big job, and involves smoking a lot of cigarettes.
And lots of coffee. Really spiritual, all of it.
I promised a man I chat to at the café last week that I would smoke less.
He is an expert on the matter, having never had a cigarette in his life.
I saw a really cute quote by Aldous Huxley on Facebook the other day.
It was completely taken out of context, and sounded benign, comforting even.
I recognised it as having originated from one of his essays on his
experimentation with mescalin.
Yes, in the 1930s. And what a brave new world it was, by all accounts.
I have never experimented with mescalin, nor do I feel the need to do so.
My ten minutes allocated to this guff is almost over.
No photo again today.
The inner self does not have a conventional or digital camera.



9 thoughts on “Ten minute interlude

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  1. Sigh……..my outer self, unfortunately, is mostly a facade, a brick wall, if you like, that I put up in order to put up (repetition intended) with my *normal* world, which is somewhat mundane and filled with millions of irritations which surround me on a daily basis. Living in close proximity with family can be a daily battle sometimes. My body is aging and does not want to dance anymore, although the inner self does dance frequently. The inner self is full of mischief (which pops out now and again), but it is filled with fears and trepidation of what ifs…sad, isn’t it? However, having typed this, “I like nonsense – it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope…and that enables you to laugh at all of life’s realities.”

    ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.
    “Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
    Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!”
    He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought—
    So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.
    And as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
    Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!
    One, two! One, two! and through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
    He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.
    “And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
    O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
    He chortled in his joy.
    ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.
    Lewis Carroll


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