From fake news to foreign virus, with Europe as America’s fallguy in this global crisis – forget it, fuckwit, you’re way more than a day late and a dollar short with your sudden show of pseudo-statesmanship… That ship has long since sailed, you’ve well and truly missed the boat with this one, and the rest of the world watches and waits as your scuppered administration finally starts to sink.
We were listening to the radio at breakfast this morning on the results of yesterday’s US election ‘Super Tuesday’, and the discussion moved on to Michael Bloomberg’s bittersweet win in American Samoa on the back of such dismal failure everywhere else. The reporter likened it to Bloomberg losing a fortune in the main casino, only to win a handful of loose change on the slot machines on his way out! 🙂
‘The afternoon of life is just as full of meaning as the morning; only, its meaning and purpose are different’Carl Jung
Yesterday I was occupied by an octet of octopi.
I spent much of the day resting and colouring in, enjoying watching the design fill up as I went round and round, building it up in layers. I love the intricacies of lines and spaces and shapes, of how it all comes together in the end to create something pretty to look at.
‘Colour is a power which directly influences the soul’Wassily Kandinsky
I wonder sometimes why I love being surrounded with colour so much, and frequently the answer that comes most often straight to mind is ‘Because your internal life is so grey’. I choose to colour my world in bright and strong and vibrant hues, almost proving a point to myself that yes, I can do colour, while inside I regularly feel nothing more than shrouded in a subdued, moody monochrome.
Depression does not provide a sunny-day-colour internal landscape, nor even allow for a veiled silvery sheen like muted moonlight in a clear night sky. Instead it smears my soul with thick, sticky mud, soaks my very fabric with foul, clouded misery until the sheer weight drags me down and I feel chilled to the bone, infused with a deadly damp that refuses to warm my sad, aching heart.
But I refuse to be beaten. And so I keep trying hard to bring colour to my life on the outside, in the hope that some of it may seep inward slightly, brightening the edges my dark dull mood…
‘The real voyage of discovery consists, not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes’Marcel Proust
I was watching the old BBC TV adaptation of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ the other day – my favourite version with Colin Firth as Mr Darcy (and the added swim at the lake at Pemberly, just for thrills).
Anyway, just as it reached the scene where Lizzie Bennett hotly refuses Mr Darcy’s tactless proposal of marriage, my husband walked in…
‘Cool’, he said, ‘Is this the bit where Lizzie tears Darcy a new one?’
Well, I guess that’s one way of describing their conversation! 🙂