nourishing obscurity

Talking today about the last two weeks of less than pristine health, with the dental work gone wrong added to the mix and a few other little matters, I mentioned the heart tightness and opined that hopefully it was just stress related and not something in the plumbing brought on by adipose tissue atrophying the organ. My mate reminded me that stress kills too.

Well, it does but I’m happy to say I have an SSRM [secret stress reduction mechanism] which works a treat.  It’s going to cost me my life somewhere along the line but hey, we all have to go sometime, right?  About an hour ago, I had another of those periodical body blows whenever I deal with anyone official, it was predictable and the upshot of it is that I’d say I’ll be out of blogging by about June/July.

Not to worry.  I’ve lost everything before and I’ll do it again.  Our current situation in the UK is a nice backdrop against which to play out this melodrama.

Checking round the blogs, which I haven’t done properly for two weeks now, there was one blogger’s post which showed me that my own worries were miniscule by comparison:

When does the pain become a dull ache and you stop the constant bleeding through your eyes, your heart, your skin? How does your mind know every year that this is the month, the week, and the day when your heart was ripped out of your chest?  Who is the arbiter of how long we grieve? How much we grieve? For whom we grieve?

I’d like to say to that person that you need to grieve for as long as it takes and ignore anyone who wants to arrange it for you.  There’s a second fellow blogger I’m quite worried about just now.  She’s been down for some time and I can feel her stress from here.  I need to do more to help out in that direction and stop this self-indulgent bxxxsxxx I’m going on with.

I admire people, especially some of the men I know who have these rhinocerous hides and react to horrific things with gruff resignation: “Well, them’s the breaks,”  or: “Worse things happen at sea.”  As this same person who wrote the above quote said, it’s all relative, isn’t it?

Vesper Lynd asked James Bond, “How can you be so cold?” to which he replied, “Well, I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I wasn’t, would I?”

I’d love to be cold like that, to not care, to be indifferent to loss.  Bloggers like that have big followings because nothing gets them down and they always have it all together, all the answers at hand.  Good luck to them – it’s a good way to run a family and stay on top of things.  I’d also like to be an idiot and not suspect Brown and Cameron of lying through their teeth or to believe Jack Straw when he says there is no dark secret to the Venables anomaly.  Trouble is, cynicism doesn’t let us believe that.

I’d love to not need the arms of a woman, especially when I got home just now but there’s an inexorable logic to life, isn’t there?  No woman’s going to take the risk on an impecunious drifter with red flags hoisted and bells and whistles going off left, right and centre.  Hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

In the end, I don’t give a flying xxxx about any of that.  Today I had a nice chat with a few people and there’s a yummy piece of salmon going into the oven in a few minutes.  So, on balance, this day was 60/40 – acceptable odds in anyone’s book.

Not sure how you manage it yourself but the sort of thing today with officialdom I call a 24 hour hit, i.e. I’ll be over it by this time tomorrow.  Dental things take a week.  Blows from a woman, on the other hand, usually take upwards of three months – I’ve not worked out how to counter a woman yet, maybe you can give me some tips.  As the quotation provider above said, it’s all relative.

Have a nice evening.

Filed under: Society & human issues