I suppose I imagined I was building a legacy, a bulk of work that would exist long after my demise, my oh so brief encounter with this precious globe. Looking back the idea seems a most reasonable enough, not too grand, just sufficient fodder to give an impression of mine thoughts, feelings, imaginings, dreams, but most vitally not to overwhelming, grandiose, important, or meaningful. I would so enjoy being quoted, misquoted if the newer version was better. I do on occasion make little sense, shine a focusing spotlight, circle a word writ large on the chalkboard of human education.
Reality says my score or so volumes will but gather dust on a shelf and then quite rightly burn to bring a modicum of warmth to a cold pair of feet. A most apt and provident finale, almost Shakespearian in comedic irony, trees cunningly converted to printing paper and then used as plain old kindling upon an open hearth.
A plaudit comprising of faggots, an appropriate eulogy in so many ways for this almost Anglo-Saxon son.
The sudden revitalization of long-term inanimate objects is always a wonderous occurrence, smacking as it do of the most improbable possibility of reincarnation of all manner of unlikely items, inclusive perhaps of humanity itself. The continuance of spirit has never been a stretch for me, that there exists an essence within the human being beyond but simple physical animation, one that has a purpose and viability beyond the reach of mere mortality.
My personal religiosity is most aptly kept in tight wraps, the thought of my convictions being widely broadcast or far worse perceived any form of recommendation fill me with horror. An individual’s higher perspectives should be entirely self-discovered, and like politics and amour not the subjects for general discussion or debate.
However, suddenly enlivened electric devices, recharged batteries, unexpectedly malleable rust buckets, these are all beyond magical, miraculous, are worthy of immediate note and a public pronouncement most vigorous.
Oh thou, who does represent the most exact appearance of all that well-mannered peoples do despise, how do you today?
A very Milton like how de do those of my past compatriots laying within ye olde folke swaddling’s awaiting the onset of the new proven Britain, risen from the waves and once more fit to rule the globe from a position but one single rung below that housing the messiah and all his multitude of archangels.
I do jest of course, does I?
My heart possesses no desire for a rekindling of Empire, and all the terrible sins that edifice do hide beneath her flowing Britannic skirts. I do not hanker for that prestigious past, the proud icon that all the English-speaking world has aimed to continue, polish, make most glorious, unquestionable, undeniable.
But on occasion, with my eyes tight shut, and a patriotic air upon my lips, I admit to my eternal damnation I may dream, fantasizing about a realm whose mountains, hills and valleys contain Jerusalem, beset on all sides with dark satanic mills.
Betwixt and between the day and night Sandwiched cleverly by time I find myself contemplating The meaning of my life and death. Not in a morbid way you understand Rather as a philosopher Weighing up each separated segment An orange of unusual hue. Firstly perceive the rind The outer crust of no import Perhaps only useful grated Flavoring a cordial or cake. Notice the skin of neutral taste Protecting the juicy flesh Pare away and all becomes liquid Without form or texture. Bite through that gossamer form Sink teeth into the matter Taste the sharpness and sweetness The precarious balance of existence.
Politically I have ever being a believer in the righteousness of extreme change, that slow, steady, gradual alterations bring no real solutions, as the human beast will simply most proficiently adjust to any circumstances as they alter, creating no true fundamental revision whatsoever. Hence, subversion, anarchy, revolution, were my watchwords, accepting disturbance, upheaval, and death as the just desserts of successful conversion.
My perspective has amended somewhat, not due my original logic being false, but rather because humanity’s capacity to withstand the violence necessary for such manifestations has reduced significantly in recent decades. War, destruction, famine, cruelty, are now largely demonized, quite rightly you might state from a humanitarian ideal, but by extension creating circumstances utterly inappropriate for the overthrow of a despotic, or even a banal and incompetent government.
So we must replace the battering ram with a subtler, less provocative means of overthrow.
Increasingly I find supposedly helpful or illuminating comments that pretend to be oh so casually offhand, nil but a helpful aside, oft poorly disguised subtle innuendo, aimed to steer any independent listeners, observers, witnesses, towards opinions particular to the viewpoint of initial the doubt caster. For evidence such arbitrary statements will highlight a lack of intent as proof of innocence, where in fact any blasé action simply shows a deep disregard of consequences, subdued repercussions, indistinct ramifications. Ignorance is most decidedly not close to bliss.
I loudly recommend foresight to all, the owning a wide perspective forwards, aside, even trailing. A weather eye to the complex laws of cause and effect, a most active outlook, a true understating of permanent threat of the overhanging limb burdened with rotting ripened fruit.
Not every proffered observation concludes with the acquisition of some hidden treasure beyond compare.
Carelessly I lost a tooth today, managed to knock it out cackhandedly with a rather clumsy bash from my toothbrush. Admittedly the offended tusk had been hanging on for grim death for a considerable time, since being loosened accidentally by procedure demanding access via my throat to my stomach. In many ways the departure was a relief, a release of a burdensome nuisance.
Luckily, no real harm was done, a modicum of blood spilled, but all in now healing well.