Why should you write…

It was a valid question, he wrote after all, she was a successful doctor, she was trying to understand him, he sighs, she is his type of woman, she actually listens. He gives her his answer..

“when I wake in the morning, it’s a new day, it’s not a case of the same repeating itself, it’s new each and every time, they eyes may tire, but the scene is a new one, no often how often I see it, a bit like your patients I suppose”

She pauses, trying to get her head around it, she nods.

“I get it, we need to be both listeners and observers at the same time!”

he smiles

“when we write about it, it becomes part of history, written with clear eyes, not fogged, as they say”

Foundation Building

The wine farmer, nods, he is explaining the terroir, the land, and what it means to the wine maker. He has a glass bottle in his hands; in it, four types of soil, the difference, is there a difference wonders the small audience. Sandy and pebbly, heavy and smooth, the four types of soil, are all part of the land. The best grapes grow in the light brown and pebble dash soil, more breathing and better drainage he says, pointing to the far corner of the field; there is more sun too she smiles, one of the visitors says, sure.

They buy a few sample bottles; On the drive back to their lodgings, they discuss the enthusiasm of the farmer, how precise he was, how important the foundation is, and the power of the sun, to turn grapes into vintage wine, one of them is a teacher, she has a thought, her friends notice, “Lucy, what are you not sharing!”

Who wants to be serious on holiday, few. She wants to hold the thought. She imagines her children, her school children, as bottles of wine. Would it not be great to give them a foundation, rather than, toys that occupy their minds. She is high school, knows the problems facing families. How the mobile has replaced the parent almost, it’s not a popular thought, few will agree, but she is a teacher, and foundations are her core, just like the french wine maker, common sense to make those foundations secure.

Old Celestine

Demented crazed obscure over exaggerated fantastic lunatic story lines, over dependent self interested totally absorbed suicidal character forms, unrealistic over technofried over sexualized plot styles money orientated wealth directed totally desensitized populations, what a blast that took some energy I tell you!

Children had held bomb controls in their hands wondering what to do with them, adults medicated just smile try a few of them, come to the adult disco you’ll never be short of company, Babylon is a great place nothing to worry about there, just join in and get down and get out of your mind, zealots alarmed afraid to, am I describing the human race or is it a viable description of the Ukraine, hard to work out the truth of any situation with many in denial,  truth the enemy  many examples since the beginning of time, since the birth of Christ and long before, people who spill the beans and the things they go to prison and their death for, all nations on the earth be it Burma Israel Ireland united states of America, England, Scotland, Germany, wherever you look truth was Imagehard won, we even have laws, whistleblower legislation to safe guard those who tell the ordinary public what they ought to know. How mad is this, just reflecting on a story I read last night from a very old manuscript, the last writing of an old man 800 years ago, pope Celestine was his name and he gave us this warning, and I’m just after repeating it in the tale that went before, imagine that, wonder where the inspiration came from for the old man, just a rambler I suppose, amen, old Celestine where do the years go!