reasons to be rude

Irritable these days. Not sure how much is a reaction to stress, and how much is a natural maturation after losing the idea of having a parent on the planet.

Some of the clients try one's patience. If they're not standing beside you shouting a stream of verbiage in your ear, they're completely helpless and expect you to wipe their bottoms. I'm discovering an ability to be extremely rude back. And today I wore the builder's ear protectors to shut out the clients.

Of course, it's not their fault. They've simply got a disability, like most people now. I've got a bit of a disability myself, one that makes me want to apply a heavy object to the side of some people's heads. It's not my fault.

Lynn Truss's Talk To The Hand, is a very readable meditation on rudeness.

country and western

All together now:

Ma wife a-done left me, and the dog's on death row.

9am.

Drove the cellmate to the airport in a hurry and a flurry of feelings.

Got to work and did the yoga routine. That's better. Wonderful to have my own room in the city where I can do more or less what I want. And get paid for it.

Then I rang and booked the vet for a medical. I'll need a verdict on the dog. Wept after the call, then took a six pack of home brew to a colleague's office, brewed full strength for giving away.

It's a country and western life, serious and banal.

11pm.

Arrived home with the urge to get oblooterated. After a whole bottle and a half of beer, I watched a lively discussion with Howard Jacobsen, a likeable thinker and talker. I don't think I've had a Jewish hero before.

Actually, there was Woody Allen, when he went ahead to his pub jazz gig, and let someone else pick up his Oscar.

- iPod post

hang on!

I'm not sure if I said already, the cellmate's going to live at her mum's on Monday, for several months at least. I was dealing with it matter-of-factly, until just now when I thought about it and realized she might not come back.

There's several parallels with the time I split up with Angie: I farewelled Angie at the airport. She gave up her job too. She was going to live in NZ too. And I was left with our sick animal (a cat with the black spot), and had to take it to the vet on my own, to get it put to sleep.

This is not good. I'm great at being on my own, so long as I know the cellmate's coming home one day. But she's hinting she won't even be coming to Europe. What's the point of going on holiday alone? To clean out the old dear's place. And take on the former piddledorf pension plan with no support team?

Jeez, how did it suddenly come to this?

Of course, everything balances up, so on the plus side: er, ... well it's fortunate that there's no firearms here. Besides I'd have to blow out the dog's brains before my own, and I couldn't face that.






At least the kitchen will be less messy with the cellmate out of the way. See? I knew there was a silver lining somewhere.

update

Since I posted recently about getting on well with the cellmate, last night she packed her bags to go to her mother's. I hope she's coming back, though preferably not right away.

If she doesn't return, I'll be pretty much all alone in the universe, but thanks to the bliss pills I'm not worried. And thank goodness I've got my lovely clients, even if some of them are naughty or brain dead.


- iPod post

time distortion

Listening to music all your life, your ability evolves over time.

At twenty, a Pink Floyd track lasting a whole LP side seemed like an eternity. So much could happen in the middle - a knock at the door, another joint, a cup of tea. Getting all the way through the music without interruption (external or internal) was rare.

At my current age of approximately 50, anything less than a 90 minute Mahler symphony, or a 3-hour Passion, seems almost too easy.

I expect it's the same for blissheids. When you first start meditating, focussing even for just 2 minutes is beyond you. By the time you become an adept, a whole afternoon is too easy.

Anyway, listening just now to a 12-minute Wishbone Ash track on the pod while walking through the city, I wished it wasn't so short.

- iPod post

deifheidism - not again!

After avoiding them for about a year, I had to attend a gathering of deifheids today. I would consider learning meditation if I thought it would enable me to switch my brain off at these things. Today I decided to take on the challenge of faking bonhomie. To some extent I did manage to switch off my faculties, munch on a vol au vent and go "mmm yummy" with the best of them, before pocketing my pastry as a takeaway for the dog.

When the champers came out, I took Hotters' advice and gulped a couple. Lo and behold, things became almost bearable. Maybe it's not just me, maybe everyone drinks just to make things bearable. But at my age I need to be doing stuff I can enjoy sober.

indoor games

You feel kind of bad when you're starting a Scrabble game with a random stranger, and you score much better than them right from the start.






But when the roles are reversed and I'm outclassed, I wouldn't expect my opponent to go easy on me.

When the boy was 7 I would sometimes play football with him. I would usually let him narrowly win. That shows you how young he was - I could beat him.

When we visited his uncle, I was shocked to see the uncle playing as hard as he could, tackling hard and winning by a mile.

If I asked Doctor John, he'd say I'm hopelessly damaged by the teutonic toilet trainers, and it serves me right for being bourgeois. Of course, freelance Taoism teaches us that there's a bit of truth in everything, even ravings.

The new room mate found me on the office floor doing yoga this morning. Turns out he has been doing his own exercises when I'm out of the room. So suddenly we're teaching each other stretches and strengthening moves, in an impromptu yoga workshop. The last time I hosted a self-help class, it was for remedial head work, and it resulted in the conception of my daughter one night after class. Better in memory than actuality.


- iPod post

changes 'appening

There's a lot of changes at my place just now, what with old family and animals dead or dying or getting sick. And plenty of other stuff.

The cellmate and I are managing to stay on the same side, even after I added to the stress by cancelling the phone line and the broadband.

Instead, we each have a mobile phone.

A plus: no longer will I have to take calls from the cellmate's friends.

A minus: no longer will I have to take calls from the cellmate's friends.

It all balances up.

In addition we each have a virtual landline number through Skype. Which I've just discovered doesn't work on the phones. Skype don't tell you that when they're taking your money.

I'm also testing two separate mobile broadband devices.

There's more than a dozen new numbers and passwords to remember.

Fortunately, you can download an app to store all your passwords securely on your phone. The tech giveth the problem, and the tech taketh away the problem. Or in freelance Taoist terms, a problem contains the kernel of its solution.

And the cellmate has found an app called My Calm Beat, which seems to be helping her stay centred, so I might try it too. It's got to be better than meditating.





- iPod post