I discover that more and more people are logging onto my blog. I am becoming famous yipppeee yeah!!! Yeah right, I wonder what makes them read my blogs anyway. Sometimes I think they're a jumbled up hodge podge placed as disordered as they are. But if you out there want to read, I can write plenty. It's difficult to stop. My blog has become somewhat of a fix. But it's not nicotine, drugs, alcohol, so I suppose it's ok.
I think I'm getting older and older. My memory is failing me sometimes. Or maybe I'm on my own planet for so long that things go by me and I don't even realise. Went to a funeral today, and the same old thoughts creep up. I am not afraid to die, I don't mean I am waiting for death in the post. But death is just another state of being, and we are brought up to believe that it's the beginning of eternal life. So why do we cry? I just live for the moment, and that's it. I have this recurring thought though, it's gory so stop here if you're death sensitive. I saw the coffin, observed it really closely, and I don't think I'd fit in it. Maybe they do plus sized coffins, I wouldn't know. But for one, it was too narrow and too short. Well anyway when I'm done I won't have to worry about fitting myself, there will be others doing it. Or maybe they'll cremate me and do me the biggest favour. Then for once in my life I will be able to fit into a tiny jar hopefully revered in someone's living room. Then maybe I'll turn into a magic genie if you rub the jar hard enough. Oh man, I've read too much in my life.
I keep thinking of W.H.Auden and Freud. The connection... there isn't one. Auden's Funeral Blues....
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong....so that's a big sense of the dreaded sentiment de vide there.
But Freud, and his thought that we are all unconsciously and subconsciously wishing for death because that is a state of perfection. According to him, we don't need anything when we achieve that state. Freud with his oral stage, his anal retentive stage.... maybe he thought too much.
I go for Auden, I'm more romantic then philosopher. I feel more than I think.
At least for today.
I think I'm getting older and older. My memory is failing me sometimes. Or maybe I'm on my own planet for so long that things go by me and I don't even realise. Went to a funeral today, and the same old thoughts creep up. I am not afraid to die, I don't mean I am waiting for death in the post. But death is just another state of being, and we are brought up to believe that it's the beginning of eternal life. So why do we cry? I just live for the moment, and that's it. I have this recurring thought though, it's gory so stop here if you're death sensitive. I saw the coffin, observed it really closely, and I don't think I'd fit in it. Maybe they do plus sized coffins, I wouldn't know. But for one, it was too narrow and too short. Well anyway when I'm done I won't have to worry about fitting myself, there will be others doing it. Or maybe they'll cremate me and do me the biggest favour. Then for once in my life I will be able to fit into a tiny jar hopefully revered in someone's living room. Then maybe I'll turn into a magic genie if you rub the jar hard enough. Oh man, I've read too much in my life.
I keep thinking of W.H.Auden and Freud. The connection... there isn't one. Auden's Funeral Blues....
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong....so that's a big sense of the dreaded sentiment de vide there.
But Freud, and his thought that we are all unconsciously and subconsciously wishing for death because that is a state of perfection. According to him, we don't need anything when we achieve that state. Freud with his oral stage, his anal retentive stage.... maybe he thought too much.
I go for Auden, I'm more romantic then philosopher. I feel more than I think.
At least for today.
