Thursday, 21 June 2018

like-mind (21/June/18)

but I don’t want to wake up

you have too

why? why should I?

because I say so

but that’s not fair, surely I have a say

not if you’re asleep

but I’m not asleep, I’m awake now

yes, you are but you weren’t when the decision was made

and who made it?

me

why?

because I’m awake

so I have to be awake because you are?

of course

but I’m tired

well, it’s too late now because you are

I could go back to sleep…

no, you can’t, I won’t let you

why?

it’s the solstice, the longest day

so, does that mean I’m not allowed to sleep?

seems so, if I’m not then you can’t be, simple

but doesn’t that mean that it’s going to be an awfully longer than usual time before next bedtime?

possibly, probably, maybe, depends

on what?

on when you go to bed

can I go to bed now?

no

why?

because I say so

how does that make sense?

because I’m awake, ergo, you should be too

I’m still not getting it, you can’t stop me nodding off…

yes I can

how, how could you? sounds like a bluff to me

because I’m you

what?

I’m you

how can that be

and you’re me

what? absurd…

and as I’m awake, and I say again, ergo, you are, it’s a fait accompli

I didn’t know I was multilingual

you’re not

but….

trust me, you’re not

but I am awake clearly

yes

if I just close my eyes……

hah! too late, you’re awake.


© 2018 robert greig

Wednesday, 20 June 2018

the uninvited ripples (20/June/18)

I returned the clock to its rightful place where last night it’d ticked and tocked, where it sat upon the mantel piece and kept me wide awake and counting… counting…counting… not sheep…. counting… ticks… not tocks… counting…. ticks…… I know what a tick is but, pray tell, what is a tock?... a tick will suck your blood just as the tick that lives in the clock will growing larger, bloating, louder, gloating, siphoning your sleep, or mine in this case, digging in with palps or claws or pincers or whatever clock ticks use to drain and claim your sanity until you’re weary beyond sleep to leave an aftermath of drawn and yawn, a bruise that bleeds and seeps beneath the skin spreading like an uninvited ripple…… but what on earth is a tock, the yin to tick’s yang?... the yang to tick’s yin?... the opposite of yo- ?… being –yo…… in dissonance with ticks or in vowelistic(k) harmony?... do I bear witness to an eternal struggle between good and evil and if so which is which?... or could the tock merely be a sycophant encouraging the tick to gluttonise my sleep, indulging feeding frenzies on debilitated souls desperately seeking slumberous retreats…… but last night I fought back… despite still not knowing what the dickens was a tock nor what wrath or retribution I may invoke, if any at all, I placed the tick ‘n’ tock offender on a chair, a comfy chair of course, I’m not barbaric, and clothed it in a barricade of cushions and voila!... like draping a cloth over a parrots cage at the end of a night so the same seemed to work to my sleep-sucking adversary and no more ticks, or indeed tocks…… whatever they are……… …

© 2018 robert greig

Tuesday, 19 June 2018

over the rainbow (19/June/18)

you see, we are essentially born stupid and then hopefully get filled up with lots of clever things… hopefully… though do newborns hope, have it or otherwise, does it even cross their literally tiny minds?... or actually, is it the other way around, we’re born full of knowing, brimming, bursting at the seams only to gradually through the years have it eroded, degraded, subsumed, supplanted, smothered, stomped, defused, muddied and sullied by a tidal wave of norms and order and rules and regulations and the opinions, attitudes, prejudice, fears and loathing of those who have already been out in the sun for far too long to clearly be good for them?...... worry not, am not getting into this whole nature/nurture squabble, another flawed masterpiece of smoke and mirrors the same as thinking an armadillo is an armadillo because we came along and named it such, whereas to itself, well, does it see itself as an armadillo?... quite probably not as I imagine they can’t even pronounce it and wouldn’t call yourself something unpronounceable would you, that would just be daft…… whichever way around it is whoever coined the phrases “the best is yet to come” and “your best years are ahead of you” and “it’ll all work out in the end” has been drinking too much affirmadelusory juice…… it could all be random of course, luck…. now there’s a handy get-out word, luck, which seems to be either good or bad and never average of so-so or ‘ish… luck’ish… luck suffers from a time-honoured path of black and white, with us or against us, him or her, us and them, in or out, the wonderful world of diametrically-opposed opposites, never diametrically-conjoined  or interlinked, but what they are is diametrically-inextricable, as one cannot not exist without the other and in a single simple statement manage to ignore everything in between, and perhaps either side of both opposites, assuming each are their own extreme of whatever line, continuum, they are on…. like the past, there’s no end as such, or should that be a beginning, we may make assumptions based on best data but in the end (or the beginning!) we can’t be sure, same with the future, even more enigmatically obtuse, and as such we are assumed to be tautly twanging on that bit of wire in between the two pulling in opposites against each other in this anomalous place called the present which itself is a bit of a slip-sliding away bit of misdirection…… in the meantime we flail wondering if we are getting cleverer or stupider, although in some cases this is disturbingly obvious…… I think I need to think this through more, I’m sure there’s an answer, somewhere… somewhere over the rainbow…..

© 2018 robert greig

Monday, 18 June 2018

I and I (18/June/18)

remember being six?...
six years old, when everything was new, exciting, even fantastical, novel and full of potential, a time before growing to discover everything turns to shit……
(I don’t doubt many will stop reading at this point…)
innocence is not to be underestimated, nor should it be equated with ignorance… innocence is a genuine naivety while ignorance is wilful, bloody-minded, self-delusion, often stubborn, and absolutely nothing to do with pigs but a well and truly human trait and frequently goes hand-in-hand with laziness, deceit and to some extent self-loathing with a dash of inferiority complex thrown in for good measure…… ignorance is a choice, innocence isn’t…. hence why a 6 year old can be excused some things, within reason, even though sometimes it can be decidedly frustrating in itself, with the very real defence of innocence, whereas there is no apology for ignorance, something grown-ups have in spades, some more than others, increasingly more some than others as this is the way the pendulum swings……
… expectations are low for a 6 year olds, in the main, leaving out for the moment the inevitable 18 year plan aspirational parents have for their unwary offspring, with the inherent tendency towards innocence but for adults these expectations grow accompanied by intolerance of ignorance  which adults all fall foul of one time or another while hoping trial and error sees us through, some clearly taking that on board better than others, increasingly leaving little wriggle-room for innocence which  can no longer be used as a justification under the ‘should know better’ rule based on the principle of having years, definitely more than six, to basically get your act together…… for better or worse we leave innocence behind, there’s little choice, sadly though it seems an increasing number replace it with ignorance evident in a daily parade of the grotesque which sadly has a trickle-down effect eroding the innocence of the child’s imagination which in so many cases become all-too soon subsumed in the ignorance of grown-ups….
… cynicism shouldn’t, per se, replace innocence but can in some cases be a worthy opponent to ignorance, or that’s my excuse anyway, though perhaps scepticism may prove a more effective tool... whatever, as they say, what do I know………


© 2018 robert greig