Archives for May 2019

Better to have the conversation of a nine-year-old child than the usual dinner-table chatter about politics and politicians.

When a popular streamed show ends the final grand episode with an almost-wise way of keeping the peace we should blush in embarrassed disappointment that we do not know how to elect the wise, only the abysmally dull or the brashly absurd.

Democracy needs a bias, towards wisdom rather than away from it.

Let us put on our thinking caps?

Her name was Namesy and she lived in Homesy on a patch of land called Landsy.

Most people thought she was a figment of a brace of websites viewed by an algorithm linked to a quantum computing self-help guru-come-journalist.

But such assumptions are too obvious and risky because the neat “fit” leads to quick presumption and a luck of exploration and imagined outcomes.

When making soup one unusual ingredient can make it memorable.

So it is with description, tales and rants.

Just don’t book ahead.

There are still chinks, gaps, even whole windows letting in the bright sunlight of individual discovery.

We chanced upon a miniature paradise.

That was the experience we felt.

And because for now we remain fully conscious we know it was true, and we remember it and don’t need a reminder to pop up to immerse ourselves in the warm bath of mind-replay.

Free seating.

“I didn’t see the signs!”

Why would you?

(We’re not talking about driving, more, Signs Life Delivers)

You shouldn’t be watching the signs and even if you do, you only know which ones were critical after the event.

Awareness, presence and being as conscious as you can manage seamlessly – all good I find! – but don’t kick yourself in the backside after the event!

Yeh! You heard it here and it ain’t nothin’ new.

Sell in May!

The sailor had no joy with the philosopher’s mutterings.

The captain’s utterances delighted the crew and the three passengers.

The cook, the salesman and the interior designer were in awe of the small round windows.

Easy to see pastry, a bargain-hunting person or two in this trapped audience, and an ideal home for countless small curtains and cushions.

“Where oh where, are we going?” said the longshoreman’s uncle