|Don't do it! Self-immolation is out of vogue|
The time for complaining is over - except for the fecking seagulls what have returned with their copious shit - because even I'm tired of the whining that emanates from my liver. It's a fallacy that feeling, emotion and mood (which is apparently inextricably tied to the weather if you're an entitled pontificator sans cesse - you know who you are) come from the heart. They actually come from the liver, spleen and pancreas - all those hormones what make you feel afraid, insecure, irritated, angry, sad, etc etc etc.
It's all biochemical really. We're nothing more than a bag of cell what undergo random chemical reactions and protein rearrangements. And in the end, we all become biochemical soup - especially if sealed in air-tight caskets and the like. This is why I want to be shrouded in my vulpine and then buried willy-nilly - the authorities don't have to be told where exactly do they? That way my essences will not sit forever fomenting, but be taken up by plants, worms and other beings of light and I'll enter the world in the purest and most random of senses. Yes. I like that. It suits the cacophony of little voices in my head.
|Little chillies have lots of anti-oxidants what|
will neutralize nasty-in-head-voices
Instead, what i seek to do is to silence the voices of dissent, doubt, insecurity and complaints by ruthlessly ignoring them. Yes, the foment will froth more for a while, but eventually the ignored will fall silent ("what's the point! 'E's h'ignoring us and that does us in"). Then the foment will die down and perhaps become a lovely ambrosial mead, or nasty sticky snot that's blown out. Either way, a conclusion will be reached and all will be well in so much as anything can be well.
|My best foot goes forth|
- Ignore what can't be controlled - and let it flow the way it will.
- Best-wish all and sundry - well most unless they're over-made up fat cows without shit for brains..oh, wait, that was a voicelet that should have been ignored.
- Stop dreaming of revenge scenarios - see immediately above.
- Broker the conversation between the square and the orb - both charge, but on one, the phone slips off too easily.
- Get a mop and sweep away the physical manifestation of the debris of the little 'splodin' head.
Start doing things and complete each one (however small and insignificant) before moving to the next.
There, that's enough wisdom for today - seriously though, if Martha Cochrane(1) can go from professional cynic to someone who accepts life for what it is, and brings - then I can at least still the voices in my head and do what is right for me. I can't be responsible for everyone and everything, I will have to be selective, as everyone should be.
(1) Nothing like a little modicum of sense and sensibility from the Good Mr. Barnes to knock some sense back into little heads.