Friday, December 16, 2011

I .... am an Artist !

Somewhere, way down deep in my psyche, nae, my soul, I am an artist.
My soul is not of the religious variety, but is a real part of my being !
It keeps me sane most of the time but can drive me too, to a near suicidal desperation when at my lowest ebb.
My dear friend and lifelong buddy George is one of the only people who know this.
I am wracked with artistic leanings, if not the talent to support them !
Oh to have walked the hallowed ground of  University and studied for an Arts degree, Fine Arts, rather than spend nights at college working my way through Electrical Engineering claptrap for useless qualifications ?
I am a frustrated writer, poet, painter, musician, photographer and George listens when I spout on these very real longings. George is almost a brother to me. 
No, he's much more than that ,,, he's that younger sibling, lost all those years ago, when I was so young. George understands me, like only a true friend can.
We have these wonderful, long talks in the car coming home from a day's golf outing, and he listens,, he really listens.
I read, ( I'm devouring books at a rate since my illness & our Scottish winter weather has confined me indoors), I write, and not only this bloggy stuff ,,, I attempt serious writing too, but then I read Emile Zola, Charles Dickens The Bronte girls, Jane Austen, Robt. Louis Stevenson and the like, and I despair again ,.,.,.
I have such a need inside me ,, a want to nurture my soul ?
I played piano to a fairly high level when a boy but then abandoned it ,,,, what sheer criminal neglect ! 
I must get back to my music learning, and soon. 
I long to attempt painting ,,,, I have a love of  The Impressionist painters and long to "try my hand" at their style .,., I've chosen my camera as a starting idea to emulate these guys .,.,., I do want to someday actually apply paint to canvas but for now I'm attempting to learn the Impressionist "method" using my digital SLR .,.,
I know this is possible ,, even old Zola had the knack ,, and he did it back in the mid 1800's with far less sophisticated photo equipment to mine !  So watch out for a photographic breakthrough, coming soon to a gallery near you !!
My soul is screaming not to be starved.  I need to feed this passion.
But back to my friend .,., George knows & appreciates my deepest thoughts, my deep love of family & friends, the real me .,., he sees the artist in me fighting for release.
For my part I see George as a great part of "my family" .,.,  and to that end this week I send him my love ,,, for we celebrate with him another .,.,., eh, Big Birthday. 
Many Happy Returns pal .... You have been & still are a Rock to me.  
I raise my glass  to you .,.,

Thursday, December 08, 2011

A Sort of Poem ?

Ode Tae a Wee Bastard !
( The 3-C’s .,., Colonic Cancer Cells or as Emile Zola might have called them ... A Bunch of Cunts ! )

Gaun a wee conivin, sleekit, cowerin’ bastard !Whit? Yer no’ cowerin’ ??
Well ye bloody should be ..
‘Cause I’m fightin ye all the way ,,
A'm laughin' in yer face, there’ll be nae surrender frae me ,,
But if they finally dae cart me away, jist you know ,,,
There’s mair o' me comin’ !
And we’re efter YOU, scum-bag
So beware ya wee shite .. eventually we’re gonna WIN !

So here’s that first laugh in yer face ....

Diarre.. ah ... Fur a ye.. ah ?
Isnae hauf funny ye know
It’s sair arse & piles’s ointment and creams ..
It's runnin' like hell tae the loo
In fact, it’s nae fun at aw !

Diarre...ah, fur jist six months
Might be twice as good ?
Mibbies aye & mibbies naw ?
Or mibbie ah mean hauf as bad ?

For even wan month
Ah could jist aboot stool it !!
Nae problem at aw
But it’s a month wi'oot joy fur ma arse !

Noo a week ... A week ah could dae,
Staunin’ oan ma heid
Oh shit, Mibbie no’ ,, Jist sit on ma bum !

But wait, awthing’s gaun quite quiet on thon rear, Southern front
Ah huvnae moved fur some days
A’m sitting here pushin' like hell
Aw shite, Constipation's back wi’ a bung !!


Another Sort of a Poem

One for my beloved, darling wife.

I want your hand
To be the last hand
My hand ever feels

I want your face
To be the last face
My old eyes ever see

I want your kiss
To be the last kiss
On my ever willing lips

I want your smile
To be that last smile,
For how you can smile,
That smile that hasn’t changed in all our years together ...
I love you with all my heart & soul

Gary Speed .....

Aren't y'all thoroughly sick of the non stop nonsense constantly being banded about regarding Gary Speed ? We've had a minute's silence and a further round of clapping at every damned football match since his "untimely death !" WHY ?
The guy was not a hero. Certainly NOT in my eyes anyway.
He was a selfish, obviously uncaring individual who chose the coward's way out of whatever was bothering him. He left his wife with no explanation, and worse, his kids with no father at the time in their young lives when they most need one. He's also, lest we forget, commited a criminal act, an act against God too, if you're into such beliefs ,,,, I mention this merely because every other footballer is forever crossing himself on the field of play for one thing or another ,,, so why are these "oh so religious" guys not offended ?  Why are they standing there clapping this man who didn't even have the decency to explain his actions ??
And it's not over yet ,,, after what seems like a fortnight of this adulation we are now to get an "official" send off from all in sundry at his funeral !
Am I the only person in the country to see this and ask questions ? Or are all his footy buddies just being carried away with the sentimentality of it all ,.,. frightened to speak out ?
Sorry, but I'm not, and don't expect any minute's silence or clapping from me.
Gary, sorry but you were a poor imitation of a man as far as I'm concerned.