Tuesday has come around again, and there is nothing left.
I can explain sensitivy and specificity
as the chances they got it right
and the chances they got it wrong
But respectfully there is
Been doing the hard yards for awhile now. Sometimes life isn't easy sailing, so I find myself appologising once again for the lak of beauty in my post, the lack of fantasy, and the lack of wonder. At least the lack of the type of wonder that you can take away and enjoy while picnicking out on the rocks.
But at least you've learnt something - so when the doc tests you for somehthing you can look up - and find out the chances that the test got it right. After all, whatever happens it's you that has to live with the consequences.
Have a happy healthy week, and look after yourselves,
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
I Murder Hate
I murder hate by flood or field,
Tho' glory's name may screen us;
In wars at home I'll spend my blood-
Life-giving wars of Venus.
The deities that I adore
Are social Peace and Plenty;
I'm better pleas'd to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty.
I would not die like Socrates,
For all the fuss of Plato;
Nor would I with Leonidas,
Nor yet would I with Cato:
The zealots of the Church and State
Shall ne'er my mortal foes be;
But let me have bold Zimri's fate,
Within the arms of Cozbi!
This was going to be a post entitled, "Why I hate Doctors," but turns out I couldn't find any even half-decent poems around the theme. Plenty of rants. Enough to keep me sane for a while ;) And while sometimes a little catharic rant can be good, it's even better to listen to other people and think - geez, lucky I'm not in their shoes.
Now, more to the point, this poem is actually a fantastic song (by my Grandfather's favourite poet). Apparently in the old testiment Zimri sullied himself to save his men or some such. So I'm sure that's the point (saving his people), and not some of the mysogynistic themes a modern woman might take away from the story. And that being so, what a marvellous piece. Refusing the temptation of one's antagonists and turning murder onto hate itself.
He is a bigger man than I, which is not really a surprise, and also undoubtedly a better poet, so I hope you all enjoyed this big hearted piece from the Bard of Ayrshire.
Have a great week people. And if you have time, why not check out the other great poems up on the fantastic Tuesday blog
A Poem For The Innocents by Geoffrey Philp
looks awesome. Tomorrow, I'm hoping to have a better look, but for now, have a good night :)
Thursday, September 5, 2013
The people who know me will have heard that my son is having a tough time at the moment. Well, last weekend and through to Tuesday were scary bad. Fortunately for no apparent reason at all he's been better the last couple of days, but I've got to the point where my brain can't do much more than make it through the day. So please excuse the "wibble" and contemplate the vagaries of the universe, but let me assure you - normal service will be resumed as soon as I figure out what normal is....
In the meantime...
- Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
- Thy micturitions are to me,
- As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
- On a lurgid bee,
- That mordiously hath bitled out,
- Its earted jurtles,
- Into a rancid festering confectious inner-sphincter. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
- Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
- Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
- And living glupules frart and slipulate,
- Like jowling meated liverslime,
- Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
- And hooptiously drangle me,
- With crinkly bindlewurdles,
- Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
- See if I don't.
an extract from Douglas Adam's, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
So Don't Panic :) and have a great TGIF and weekend, and hope to catch you all next Tues...