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  • beulah888 5:35 AM on November 26, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , blogger, , , , Homeaffairs, , 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 10:33 AM on September 8, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: blind, , forgiveness, Homeaffairs, , link, , tinaturner, vengeance, , youtube   

    September Remember 

    There are so many things to remember.   Where you put your keys, where you parked your car, the name of a person you just met…..so many things.   People often make a ‘to-do’ list of the things the have to do in order not to forget.  But where did you put that list?

    september

    I don’t now where the saying originated, but September is supposed to be the month in which you remember.  Remember Allemand, remember Bosnia, remember Baslan…remember the Alamo.

    I always use September as a month for remembering.  To right any wrongs I may have done, or avenge any evil done me. Yeah, I am not truly a forgiving soul.  If you’ve had a whole year or more to stop your shitt, and desist from bothering me, then come some September I remember.  I agree that one should forgive stuff, but I also consider that there is a limit to forgiving and a time to act.  To avenge.  I don’t think any god or the Universal Ohm should have a problem with that.  I do not suffer fools gladly.

    September therefore, is a month in which to reflect sagely on things and life.  To plan and arrange for the future, should you be allowed one.  To make the Present clear!

    There comes a time for Justice, and Justice, like Love, is not blind.  Neither is Justice a ‘respecter of persons’ i.e Justice IS blind.  Blind to who you are or claim to be.  High or low, friend or foe, Justice will find you out and destroy you.

    What’s Love Got To Do With It?  Nothing.

    So, should Hilary Clinton or Donald Trump win the U.S. elections?  Don’t know.  Just let justice be done and be SEEN to be done across the board, throughout the world.  As someone  (Lord Chief Justice Gordon Hewart) said:  “…justice should not only be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done.”

    This September, remember.  Remember to sow good seed.  Because it is true, you reap what you sow.  Some call it Karma.  I call it Natural Law.

    The wheels of Justice may grind slowly, but they grind.

    This September, Remember.

    scales

     

     

     
  • beulah888 3:38 AM on April 1, 2015 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Homeaffairs, , , ,   

    It Has Fallen! 

    image

    Yep.  It has fallen again; and this time I cannot get it up!

    This window, and two others in my hermetically sealed flat, likes to fall whenever a bit of fresh strong wind blows.  It can’t take the wind.  It lost all support years ago, and, except for the latch and handle, has no viability.

    It is now caught,hoisted on its own petard, by the very latch that used to support it.

    image

    Yep.  The latch is hooked under the cupboard door.  I therefore cannot raise the fallen defeated spy-hole cover to its pretentious position of “security”.

    How like life and homeaffairs.
    The very thing or person that might seem to be there to secure and uphold us, sometimes gets caught; and gets us stuck in a compromised position. 

    Yet, like the window, we might be spared the ultimate downfall, that of a splintering crash, by something or someone seemingly not as strong sturdy or dependable as that fickle latch. 

    Yep. Had it not been for the clapped-out cupboard and its two-penny door-handle the spy-hole cover would be no more.

    So, a few things, like in life and home affairs, remain apparent. 
       
    A thing or person in position, regardless of how clapped-out, might someday save us from hitting the floor.
    It takes a strong wind to prove true mettle.
    Security is tenured pretentiousness.
    Fickleness is not the preserve of the weak frail and or the seemingly undependable.

    And finally,

    That which we overlook or take for granted, like a cupboard door-handle, might be capable of bearing a great load.

    image

    Addendum:

    Homefinders are on the job.

     
  • beulah888 6:01 AM on April 8, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Einaudi, , Homeaffairs, , , Poem, Spring, Spring Cleaning,   

    Spring —– Cleaning 

     

     

    spring bird

    Spring 
    Cleaning  all the Air
    From my Brain 
    And Nos-trilllll-s
    Spring
    Cleaning all the Airs
    From my Nose
    And and Tender–ills
    Spring
    Cleaning
    With a Brush
    Unweaving my Hair

     

     

     

     

     
  • beulah888 3:23 AM on March 29, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Homeaffairs, Hope, Management, Time, Timing   

    Too Late 

    A day past the deadline.   A day after I was supposed to have done it.   A day after.

    I planned to write on the 28 and post to this Blog.  So here I am a day late and not caring a bit.

    Why?  Well why care?

    So many people in life do not care about anything.  Neither good nor bad, important or unimportant.  So why should I?

    It is too late anyway.  And when it is too late to care, then there is no point in pretending sorrow or sympathy or pity or anything akin to regret.  It is too late!

    Way back many years ago there was a radio programme that had those words as part of its opening spiel.  I have never forgotten it and often reference it.

    It goes something like this:  “Too late–one of the saddest phrases in the English language”

    Well today I am posting a day late and it makes no difference to the scheme of things in Life.  Does it?   It makes no difference to anyone reading this.  Does it?

    I mean it makes no difference.

    Yesterday, if I had done it yesterday, it may have been something else.   Maybe more interesting and better.   Maybe.

    One shall never know.  Because one cannot call back a day or an opportunity.  It is gone, lost.

    And don’t tell me that today is better, either.

    Today we bear the pain of yesterday’s loss.

    It is too late.

    tooo late

    evermore-it’s too late

     

     

     
  • beulah888 6:08 AM on December 30, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Candy, Chocolate, , Freedom of Speech, , Hackney Road, Homeaffairs, Law, Opinion,   

    Two Chocolates And A Bite Of Freedom 

    English: Shops on Hackney Road Near Cambridge ...

    English: Shops on Hackney Road Near Cambridge Heath Station (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    Just finished a quarter of my second chocolate bar.  I bought both, a Snickers and a Lion.  Yeah, that’s me.  a Snickering Lion.

    I walked all the way along Hackney Road to do this, and am still trying to  eat the Lion.  It is a tough one.  Sticky pully and caramelly.  Dropping bits in the  cafe chair as I type and the owner/manager glances not so surreptitiously at me.

    It is freedom.

    Freedom to walk along and buy two whole chocolates and attempt to eat them and to drop bits in the nice Internet Cafe lady’s not so hot chair.   It is Freedom to choose to have two chocolates and to be able to purchase them and to eat them and not have to offer anyone any.  It is Freedom to sit her typing this with no one bothering me, even though I might be typing inflammatory materiele of the political/sexist/racist or other so determined kind.

    It is Freedom of Type.  Freedom of Bite.  Freedom of Speech.

    Freedom is hounded by those who invent the inflammatory materiel label to stick onto something they want hidden or with which they do not agree,  and think they have the right to press down opinion.  Even foolish opinions get an airing.  Especially in Hackney where everyone is either mad or foolish or both.

    Except for me of course.  I am neither mad or foolish.  I am grumpy.

    The thing is, once your foolish opinion does not agree with the other  general foolish opinions you can be labeled insane or stupid.  However, if you get a following, you might be labelled “a big man” in the community.  Some community.

    I love chocolate (s), even drinking chocolate.  I love freedom.  Even Freedom of Type.

    Some persons would say that Freedom of Type is the same  as Freedom of Speech.   I do not agree.  I can type all I like and even write a trilogy of offensive stuff, but unless it gets published AND some  people read and follow instructions or whatever,  all I have done is verified the need to save a few trees.

    Once I speech, that is speak, something however, what I have done is given credence to a thought or belief and have also published/publicized that belief in no uncertain terms.   A bit of paper or a poster is legally easier to deal with, but legally weaker as a means to an end.   A speech is legally more difficult to deal with but legally stronger as a means to an end.

    Type is written, speech spoken.  But which is more ‘free’?  I would say the Freedom of Type.   After all, I can rip up or delete or otherwise erase.  With bloody free speech all I can do is wish I had kept my mouth shut.

    Me, I prefer chocolates.  Each bite is a bite of freedom.   If I am chomping on a Lion, I can’t really do much harm.  Even if I am typing.   ‘Cause my mouth is too full of gooey sweet stuff to allow me to utter a single word.  All I can do is type and bite.

    So I’m feeling rather free right now.   A silent sweet freedom.

    English: A Snickers candy bar, broken in half.

    Foolish opinions or no,  I air my views, but I still want my freedom.

     
  • beulah888 9:57 AM on December 4, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Bathroom, Bog, , , Homeaffairs, Loo, , Poetry, Poo, Shampoo Shave And A Shower, , Shite, Toilet,   

    I Shite At Nite…..My Shite…In Hackney 

    I Shite At Nite

    This is mine.  This page, Shampoo Shave And A Shower, is part of my grand WordPress blog. And “I Shite At Night” is just part of it.

    I love myself dearly.  I am not full of shit as those Hackney mad people and zombies are.  I have a life and a beautiful one at that.

    So this blog being homeaffairsdotme, must include the toilette, toilet, bathroom, boudoir and bed.  Not to mention the kitchen which is not the heart but the soul of any home.

    I shite at night because it is my right to shite

    Don’t tell me I must shite in the day, just because you say

    It is the  normal thing to do

    What is normal for you is not right to me

    What is right is normal is right, you see

    And to shite in the day, because you are scared

    Is no reason for me to fear –  you.

    I shite when I feel like

    And that is at nite

    When Nature naturally calls

    You shit out of fear

    Of the dark and the drear

    Of your deadend dead-end state

    And because all of you do it

    Shit I mean,

    That’s no reason for me to share

    Your guilt your pain your sorrow or your air

    For mine, my state

    My ‘homeaffairs’

    Are in order

    Hence my shite

    Though it is done at night

    Is a sweet-smelling odour

    Of natural shit.

                             Goodnight.Shits

     
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