Meanwhile, in Rio de Janeiro a Siddharta Gautama steps out of a cab in front of the Royal Hotel, he tips the cab driver generously, looks down the street and the beautiful people of Brazil walking it, then sighs:
- Ah, finally, Rio, we’re going to have a bloody brilliant town! And it’s only 2 months left to the carnival! Let’s rock’n’roll!
Does that mean, that if someone calls you an idiot for all these Muslim bashing posts, you'll simply turn the other and accept being called a moron as well, and thus live by your preachings?
And how thankful they must be for you not hating them personally, only sticking to being an utterly condescending weirdo.
I hope you don’t mind I having sent this declaration of yours to a Mullah so he can carry it on towards the holy city of Mecca as rapidly as possible, where I am certain they will build you a shrine.
I’m not sure how long it will take, but I’m confident that the camel express Muslims use to carry important messages from one part of the world to Mecca will do their utmost to get your message there as fast as possible, even if a few of the riders will have to die along the way.
I think it’s a great effort of you, to take on the responsibility to teach millions an millions of Muslims all about logic. It’s so…. logical that of all people you take on this task.
I, personally, will go pray come Sunday that you take on other important tasks, as to make this world a better place where our children can grow up safely.
Maybe you could teach black people how to feel comfortable again about sitting at the back of a bus, Jews to be funny, Buddhists to swim, women to stand and pee without making the slightest mess, important stuff like that.
Why you’re not in the Sri Lankan government is beyond me. Or maybe you are, and that’s why the country looks the way it does?
Listen, if you take out laundry from the washer which is all in lumps, then hang it out to dry, once it’s dried, it’s not hanging there in a big lump, is it? It’s hanging straight down.
When you pick cherries, they don’t hang from the tree upwards, to the left or right, they hang straight down. If something long a tube shaped grows from a tree, it should, by the natural fall, come out growing straight, not bent. It doesn’t make sense.
And don’t give me any smart remarks now about them growing past obstacles. The carrot grows in the ground, with loads of obstacles, and does it come out anything but straight?
I think the banana simply wants to show off. It's a bleedin' attention seeker, that's what I think it is. Like a teenager dying his hair blue, or someone walking naked in a supermarket.
I think you should tell them to sod off and stop judging, or you'll come over with all your six kids come Halloween and trick-or-treat them into poverty.
She's here behind me in bed, and I have decided that today I will be a manly man who makes demands of her taking care of her manly man, all day long. So what kind of things should be on my list?
Think of it as someone taking hostage and wanting something in exchange of not.... ...oh, well, bad comparison I guess.
Anyway, we had dinner guests yesterday, we danced. When Dean Martin came up and started to sing, we danced, all of us, in my living room made ball room. Dinner means dishes being used, plenty, and we did not bother to clean that up as the last guest left, so the kitchen is quite a mess.
Would it be OK to demand that she cleans that up while I watch a movie? How about food, what kind of food should I demand her to make? I’d quite fancy Shepherd’s Pie She makes a brilliant one.
You went about this the wrong way. You should have invented someone who you are with who's not into the exact same kind of gumbo, humour, favourite animal, or wahetver, made it sound like a big deal and ask what to do about it, that would have given you about 20 pages within 2 days of suggestions to dump her, and loads who'd want to take care of you instead.
I saw a little documentary, Swedish, about a woman, 83 years old she was, and determined with every fresh breathe of inspiration with every single word she uttered, that by god, she said, a widow, that she did not want to live alone, she wanted company, and so she took to Internet dating sites to try and find someone. 83 years… young… she was! The whole thing ended with her being filmed from behind, stood under a summer sky out on her balcony, with this retired captain of a cruise ship, and then, all of a sudden, them two being stood next to one another admiring the scenery, she puts her hand closer to his on the balcony rail, and then puts it above his, gently caressing the top of his hand.
A very definition of love, that is.
My has mine.
At the moment of surrender, which I speak of above, I am not weak, oh it is the very other way around. It is that moment when a man, falls to his knees, with clenched fists held straight up high towards the sky, with straight back and face turned to the sun, closed eyes, he shouts happiness to whatever gods of love might be up there above them strings of small clouds, he exhales: - Life is beautiful!
Have you ever been on a crowded subway station, then jumped onto that train, and sat where people through tunnels of dark gaze out towards a vivid rough black nothingness roaring past? Have you seen the reflection of their eyes in the side windows, and have you ever wondered what that blank look might bring a kind of an empty when it reaches home? To an apartment where no one waits to greet, where no one approaches to embrace, where no one has made a meal, or where not even someone living far away who is loved is to be called on the phone?
I gaze into them side windows, daydream, about moments I’ve had with her, all the moments I wish to have with her, and all the moments I will have with her. Not all blank stares into a window are of the sad kind, some are a heart longing, a heart taken on a journey so much further than a manmade machine ever could, and when I, myself look into that side window, when I loose myself into such a moment, I loose myself in her, the scent of hers, that laughter, voice, wisdom and so much more. Isn’t it ironic how I could be travelling through the dullest kind of passage, but yet I’ll be in the most beautiful place.
I was stuck in a moment of no true meaning. My own paces did take me forward but I passed ground with lesser value.
I didn’t feel it back then, because there was nothing bad to be felt. And there still is nothing bad to be felt about them days back then. It’s a matter of simple observation, only.
There was no gloom in my posture, no sorrow in my eyes, or sadness of any kind for passers by to behold, passers by who - now it seems - mostly went as unnoticed as little as they noticed me. To the beat of a waving hand in a vacuum mist we moved beyond one another without even realising that we did.
It was, only happened to be that kind of time when a day passed by like it was an hour long, when they disappeared as rings on some water you throw a stone into out of plain boredom, with a slight bit of hope that beauty would magically be behold from the childhood image of what then to us was water making art, now nothing more than a surface slightly and for a brief moment disturbed.
I simply roamed. There was no lust in me, nor was there any worry of lust forever lost. There was no desire, nor a feeling of desire forever gone and not even a blurry hope up ahead. I was not dejected in any way, but I was without much cause, I was searching without knowing I was doing so, I was like a man on a mission but without a plan.
It was like that song, when he sings, in such a powerful voice above that haunting single organ tune he sighs out the words… ….”I was punching in the numbers at the ATM machine… I could see in low reflection a face staring back at me”…
Someone alive, but not living.
See, I could recognize being alive, but simply did not feel full of life, I only was, existed, was being another statistical figure, another mobile phone number in a directory, another ring-tone most often resounding between walls of alone in a too often dully lit home, and is a home really a home if it’s most often not shared with someone, or when you bother not light it up enough because who’s there to share that light with anyway?
I was just another head wet of rain under a sky of grey, yet one more who the angels looked down on from time to time, them struck incapable of resolving or understanding what they saw as a man with every possibility to live a life to his fullest, but he didn’t.
But the angels up above, they carry the light and yet sometimes they don’t see clearly. The angels up above need not worry about me. Never should have. I was never under some spell of grief. I was only not where all of us deserve to be, always, which is under the spell of love.
I was not searching for her, how could I? I didn’t even know I wanted her, needed her.
Someone like her is not to be found. Someone like her, fortune grants, and the angels up above, I know, view me now in a very different light, because my own very special angel suddenly arrived one day at my doorstep, knocked and asked whether this man would want to love her, and I return to that powerful, magnificent praise in that same song I played for her once, and even though he didn’t intend to make it a love song, I am doing so, because he sings what I feel, and oh does he sing…
…”It’s not that if I believe in love, if love believes in me… …oh believe in me… ….At the moment of surrender, I’m falling to my knees”
I’ve surrendered to her, she know this,
Before her, I was content, but not filled with joy, fine but not delirious, knew everything about love and what love can bring, but not very keen on being desperate to go look for it.
Some of it in a sibling kind of way, some simply unquoted, undefined, and some so plain as love always should be, so straight out off the heart where the poets most intimate love rhyme rests.
My whole body and spirit and heart and mind is a stream of this great thing, due to the likes of Dru, Sommer, you and everyone lovable.
Love has found me, and it is majestic how it grabs you, picks you up, lifts you, how love loves you, how love believes in me.
And I surrender to it, on bended knees, which is no submission, only a humble bow to the most beautiful you can ever encounter.
Find this and you find every meaning there ever was to live.
OK, either I will have to Google them, or you will share a bit more here.
I don't mind looking it up myself, and don't intend to push for you to do stuff for me, it's only a matter of I being interested and I'd rather you share, educate me here on this matter, if you wish.
I'm genuinly interested to hear more.
I value your posts, and this thing, with whom people would invite to a dinner table speaks a lot of what values a person holds, or what good dreams we daydream. At least I imagine so.
So my second dinner, follow up to the first, which was a great success and everybody in town is talking about, which all and anyone want to attend, is shaping up.
Shane MacGowan of The Pogues
Rosa Parks - The strongest woman in the most tough of times. You know when you admire someone whom you've never met, she is one of my heroes.
Bono of that youthly group they call U2, or somesuch
Al Green, the man of such soul and great funk
Bob Marley, he is like a family member which never had a family connection of blood line sort with me but who has meant more than other who have.
Why on earth would you want Thatcher at your dinner.
Look, it's your dinner, so I'm not questioning your guest list in the sense that yu are wrong inviting whomever you wish there, but she's simply stryuck me as being the most boring person ever, so I am curious to hear what you think she could add to your evening.
love I get so lost, sometimes days pass and this emptiness fills my heart when I want to run away I drive off in my car but whichever way I go I come back to the place you are
all my instincts, they return and the grand facade, so soon will burn without a noise, without my pride I reach out from the inside
in your eyes the light the heat in your eyes I am complete in your eyes I see the doorway to a thousand churches in your eyes the resolution of all the fruitless searches in your eyes I see the light and the heat in your eyes oh, I want to be that complete I want to touch the light the heat I see in your eye
CaptainBeirutIII Forum Posts (1,186)
RE: OK I NEED AN HONEST OPINION
I was thinking, sargentmcdog, maybe if you gave your kids new nicknames, you could make great use of them to find yourself a woman within a fortnight.Call them:
Dishwasher
Shoeshine Boy
Potato Peeler
Windowcleaner
Cook
and
Mop
You’ll be having women flocking to get that crew over to their house.
Either that or you could sell them all to a traveling band of gypsies.
I’m only trying to help!