for vicus

wow - you left a huge selection of trouserwear here!

(I think I'd like to see you in the lederhosen)

travelling by magic

.
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
.
WB YEATS

the cloth beneath my feet takes me all over the world,
out of this world and into others,
and far far out, into the depths of time and space. . .
.

you have all woven the cloth with me:
you helped me thread the warp, on my loom,
which is made from pure love

and sun beams

and shafts of light

and you helped me choose the strands of the weft. . .

some of the threads are pure spun gold
(stolen from Rumpelstiltzkin no doubt),
some silver filaments from the hair of witches,
some rusted iron wires from the needles in the haystack
.
and the iron bars surrounding emprisoned persons
whose only escape from their circumstances
is a journey like ours
.

some fibres are silk from the cocoons of insects
in places full of eastern promise,
and some cotton from those of western decadence;
some spun from the grass on the other side of the fence
. some spun from the carded hairs of polar bears,
who we brushed and groomed
while they gently slept under the Northern Lights
(difficult to spin, as they are hollow and snap easily
- but we spun them none the less);
some from the feathers of Emperor penguins,
which we picked up
from the Antarctic snows in the middle of a blizzard;
and some from the fallen feathers of angels
.
yet more from locks of mermaid hair. . .
.

the most wonderful thing about the cloth
(apart from its clueless camping corner with the jacuzzi)
is that it never ever ends. . .

. . .we are still spinning and weaving. . .

. . .adding pattern and texture,
patching and mending rips,
whilst mopping the tears that wash it clean
and smoothing balm onto our sore skinned hands

it goes on and on. . .
. . .like the journey

. . .like the view

.
what can I say?

all of which made me think of this

(for a variety of reasons that I won't bore you with)
.
altho, bizarrely
(which will come as no suprise)
I ended up here. . .
.
.

:-)

rebooted. . .

. . .kinda

I feel very odd actually, everything is quite vague and I'm not really sure about things I feel I ought to know. . .

like:

how my laptop works,

why I seem to be unable to talk to anyone here,

what my problem with attending
"group therapy sessions" is,

why I want a bath and not a shower,

why I was so extraordinarily hungry this morning
and had a three-course breakfast,

why there is a jar of peanut butter
propping my window open,

what will happen when I go "home",

will I ever have sex again,

what am I going to do with myself in September
and thereafter
(if I make it thru the summer, that is)
(which I probably will,
now I'm in the care of The Good Doctor)
when Smallest Person goes to secondary school,
.

when will the neurofen I took for
my splitting headache
take effect. . .

.
anyhow, enough of my trivia!

I think I need to have a little nap and let my neurons settle down; everything is feeling slightly frazzled and bleary

.
I'll catch you later
.

:-)

TGI..., I don't

.

it's now warm enough for me to sit out in the swing seat first thing in the morning - altho I have to keep running in and out later on in the day to collect the cushion if I leave it outside, to save it from getting wet in the frequent April downpours

.

this morning I was thinking about something someone texted me before xmas: "people like you deserve to rot in hell" and I was thinking "thank g*d I don't believe in hell"* (because I was also thinking TGIF NOT!) (because I don't like Fridays)

.

(*which some people might find slightly paradoxical)

.

I think my spiritual beliefs, well I know, because they are mine, stretch from a continuum of this reality into the infinite. . .

.

. . .an infinite set of possibilities that doesn't include a hell - how can a belief in the divine include hell? well anyhow, I think that's rhetorical, as I don't "do" religion here (but participate in the view swapping/sharing if you wish, as I also don't do "telling you what can or can't do" chez moi)

.
anyhow my train of thought has been rudely interrupted, to coin a phrase, by SP actually awakening spontaneously for a change and arriving downstairs unprompted wanting to chat

.

so I'll catch you later

.

in the meantime, have a Crunchie!

and I know some of your more educated types (vicus *coughs and splutters*) are far better educated than I, but I like this too (especially as used in The Witches of Eastwick - says it all really) (and I know I've said it before, but sometimes it's OK to repeat oneself)

actually, I'm not sure where this is taking me