Churnings of my mind.

Do you ever get the feeling that some foreign and strange being is trying its hardest to take over your mind by filling your everyday thoughts with the most pathetic trivial matter that can be found? Or perhaps, is it that for the moment you are losing things, particularly sanity, for wayward ideas and almost thoughtless visualisations that cross through the wave patterns of brain matter.
I intensely dislike any form of losing control over my mind, the drug and alcohol induced stupors that so many think helps them find something or loses them in nothingness are not for me. My brain, no matter how good or not, is what I depend on for thought patterns which are my self inflicted form of sanity and how I am able to work through whatever the Universe happens to throw my way.
The biggest part of me is not the overextended waistline caused by an overindulgence in edible matter, but the overindulged brain that is never allowed to be quiet, rest can only weaken the soul, so onward forever in the search of something new and more interesting on the horizon of mental sanity, the hunt for the elusive metaphorical butterfly of perfect human intelligence that will open all doors and windows of my mind and forever refresh it with new and wonderful thoughts.

A comfortable winters armchair.

It's halfway through May already and although the nights are chilly the days are soft and warm and constantly inviting one to step outside the door and see what is going on in the world outside. The air feels like velvet on the skin almost as if one is wrapped in a weightless cloak that does not warm one up, but is there rather as a reminder that soon the time will be upon us to take out the winter warmers and snuggle down into the comfort of the old armchair.
It is past autumn time, but she seems to be hanging around almost as if she has not quite finished all her work for this year, or perhaps she is remaining to play with us as a naughty child that does not want to go to bed would do.
Why I ask are birds so alive in this weather? There is a constant chattering of reminders for me to scatter crumbs and treats out the front door for them and as they float down on pillows of soft air to have their meal there seems to be a laziness about them, a slowing down of the system so that they can almost melt into winter when she finally does arrive.
For myself, I love the feeling of coolness on my skin when I wake up in the middle of the night and stick an exploratory foot out from under the covers. I love the feeling of the cold air as it gently massages, bringing blood to the surface and reminding me that life is good whether or not you have a blanket over you.
That in the end brings me to my armchair, with is high back and wings to snuggle into, to copious cups of coffee, to marshmallows and to good books that have sat on the shelf all summer long patiently waiting for winter to arrive so that they can be dusted down and brought to life just by the turning of their pages.

Genre - the juicy red apple of the day?

Why does some word or other suddenly come to the forefront of spoken word and is thereafter heard on every tongue and in every text until we tend to lose all possible significant meaning and it becomes another of the over-used and over-abused victims of the lazy English speakers repertoire of what is fashionable and in at the moment.
Genre seems to be top of the list at present and one cannot turn on television or radio without someone mentioning it at any given and available opportunity. It is almost as if once the word is tasted as it leaves the mouth the speaker has to keep going back to the juicy apple of it all for just one more taste of fashionable speech. The trouble here is that it might be a delightful word to utter over and over but for the poor listeners the sound, in the end, seems to leave a rather sour and unwanted taste in their mouths.
No wonder that we seem not to be producing Shakespeare, Milton and Burns type literature any more, it is as if we have taken the traditional claymore and shattered the hopes of the English language by following in the footsteps of each others mutterables in the fear of ever sounding even the slightest bit original in our own speech.
Why on Earth did Edison give us the light bulb if he did not intend for each one of us in some way to see some of the light ourselves.
Humans are becoming more followers than leaders by trying to impress others we are oppressing ourselves.

Pins in my bottom

In childhood days often we would have a much younger child to stay and because of the age difference we would often tease him, just because. He would get so cross and then storm out the room informing whoever had annoyed him that they were, "A pin in his bottom". His delightful expression of anger has stayed fresh in our minds and is still used to describe any annoyances that happen in our daily living.
I am feeling at the moment that my bottom is more like a pin cushion than anything as so many things seem to be forcing their attention in a prickly manner towards my rear. Television at the moment is more like a hat pin than a sewing pin and as one floats in channel space looking for something they have not seen in the past week despair seems to creep slowly into the soul as once again the realization is made that there is not one single thing to watch that is new and fresh on the screen. It is almost as if we are being forced to go out and by the entire set of DVD's of, "Little house on the prairie", remember that perfect family that perfected boredom for the viewer.
Then there is the filthy supermarket down the road where on hot days one can smell the meat as they step out of their cars. A bit of personal puzzlement here, why would anyone want to buy meat that is very obviously going off in the first place? However perhaps this is an acquired taste as the meat seems to willingly follow its purchasers out the door, often almost on it's own legs.
Can you remember when last you have made an appointment with doctor, beautician, hairdresser, psychiatrist, manicurist or whatever and they were on time? Do they think that their time is more important than yours? Me thinks they all ought to be doing time management courses instead of playing computer games between appointments.
What about medicines that make you feel worse, or am I an unknowing guinea pig made to suffer for the betterment of human kind or whatever? Why if we keep getting told that we are capable of healing ourselves do so few of us manage to do it? Why are we so important that we think we deserve immortality? But that is another subject that might take me more than one lifetime to discuss.
The more I think about things the more punctured my bottom seems to get so perhaps I will hit the coffee pot of pure pleasure and go off into some mindless world of my own where I can visualize the perfect world and perhaps with a bit of luck manifest it into the physical.
Wish me luck.