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  • beulah888 5:35 AM on November 26, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , blogger, gods, , , , , philosophical, ,   

    So, Having Moved On…. 

    dscn0415

    So, having moved on like an obedient Servant of the Gods, I am feeling relieved and slightly healthier.  Like after a good shit.

    I was well on the way to being very healthy again, I know that, but the move and thing got me (gotta blame something) smoking a bit more heavily again.  I was doing well at the less of the death-stick and more of the fresh air and exercise thing, but when my enemies ‘start huffing’ I sometimes start puffing.  Furiously!

    So once again settled, at least for a couple months while I figure things out, or the Gods show me a profitable path, I am discovering that leaving that familiar unfamiliar place where I was getting oh so comfortable has not been debilitating, but releasing.

    Maybe I AM meant to be one of Life’s ‘hobos’ or something.  Maybe I really am on the God-given trail but not liking it too much, ’cause I want a home, enough money not to worry and a perfect partner to rub my back when it aches.

    Thought I had the first one licked, what with being so settled back at that place; and was investigating all sorts of ideas that might have got me some money (if I could pull off at least one) and thinking of where to start looking about for a perfect partner.  Then the BOOM of the God’s and I am out on my ass.

    I am therefore beginning to think I am an FOTG= Favourite Of The Gods.  [I have this propensity to look on/for the bright side.  Continuous shit like mine does not happen to just anyone.  I MUST be special.]

    As an FOTG therefore, I am assed if I am actually going to put a lot of effort into figuring things out, and instead I am enjoying the fact that I am not physically or mentally homeless, I get to know a different place, and my breathing problems have disappeared despite the smoking.

    Well, some of you know the Docs in Hackney couldn’t find a real cause and I blamed it on the zombies and other dead detritus that hang around that location.  Thankfully, as the wind blows and the seas flow, those that tried following or enlisting followers, have caught a cold and a boat to the goal of no release.

    So, having moved on….a new chapter is beginning.

    dscn0417

    Fidel Castro died yesterday at 90.  Not bad for a guy who either was as special as I am, or more insane than we realised.  Either way it proves  to me:  I might as well plod on in style as the Gods truly have the final say.  Not zombies, or death threats, or assassination attempts, or diseases, or ogres with clubs.  Like Castro, I gonna smoke (burn earth, burn rubber, burn tyres, or just plain burn!) ’til I gotta hang up my guns.

    I off to find something or someone to cherish and relish and remember fondly.  Otherwise, what is the point of moving on?  In fact, otherwise, what is the point of Life?

    You with me ye Gods?

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  • beulah888 6:47 AM on October 29, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , gods, , , ,   

    Sling Your Hook 

    Well, it’s time again. It seems I “gotta go”. Why, dear Gods, are you having people chuck stuff at me, chuck me out, and generally pissing on my parade. Enough!

    Not only was I comfortable, well mostly anyway, where I was, I was beginning to get some things sorted out. Then, BOOM. Along comes an Ogre with his club, and starts demanding I go. Go where now, O ye gods? Really, what have I done to offend you all in such a way that you wish to keep me like a Rolling Stone. Yep, I know the saying: “A rolling stone gathers no moss.” But is moss such a bad thing? What should one gather? Memories and thoughts alone?! What about a little nest egg? Um? And, oh yeah, if I manage that (somehow) ye Gods then make me use it up in moving on AGAIN.
    I am a HOBO!!! Not scruffy and degenerate,…. or is that it? I have not become scruffy and degenerate so you keep pushing and pulling and shoving and bellowing in the hope, in the EXPECTATION that that is how I shall be?! Dear God! No, no real god could want that for me, cause no real God could be that unkind; well not at this point or hereafter, considering ALL you have already put me through. So WHY/

    I fervently pray that this has something to do with rewarding me for being such a god sport in taking all the shit that has been thrown at me all the years. You must have had your fill. Belly laughs and OOhs and Aws at the dickens of a life’s journey you assigned me. Well, Gods, show your mettle and worth and upturn the apple cart. Show that, you give a shit about ME now and give me the promised Justice and repose. Otherwise, “sling your hook”!

    Mercy.

    dscn0656

     
  • beulah888 7:40 PM on January 10, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , future, gods, , , ,   

    It Is Done 

    It is done! I was evicted by order of Court so that the so-called landlord could sell the Hackney tumble-down.
    Am I angry? Am I bitter? No but no.  It was a relief to finally get out of there.  For good.
    Some places and some situations are gladly left behind even if what lies ahead is blurred.

    So I’m off in the blur and feeling  like a prisoner set free.  Amazing how a “change  is as good as a cure”.

    Whatever happens, I am at peace.  My sojourn in that place and, perhaps too, in Hackney, has been an expensively irksome detour on my life’s journey.  For surely, such of my life’s highs or lows as were deemed necessary by the Gods could have been accomplished somewhere more palatable?  I mean, Gods I ask you, what was the point to some of the zombies and other detritus?  Had it been a film I would have switched channels.  The apparent needlessness of it would have numbed my brain.  As it was, it was not a film, nor a dream yet I feel numb; because life is not a dream nor a film and I can make no sense of it.  All I can say is my old placebo (is that how you spell it?) “The God’s will have their fun”.

    Yes. I truly pray that they are so pleased with the fun they had, that they are sated and will consider the next Acts and Scenes of my life to be as a bed of Roses with no thorns.

    I am fatigued. Nay, beaten.  Not by Life, but by Life’s Controller.

    It is done.

    I appeal to the Gods.

     
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