White Crow

I'm falling behind with everything at the moment in an attempt to knock some shape into a children's story I wrote ten (or more) years ago. It is far more arduous than writing the thing in the first place and nt so enjoyable but I am grimly determined! (Equally grimly determined to get some humour into it... not sure hat's the right mood to be in....)  Otherwise things are toddling along much as usual. Yesterday I took sandy to see Robocop and eat a very calorific meal.  I wouldn't have chosen Robocop because I saw some of the first one and thought the whole concept too nightmarish to want to repeat (I had bad dreams about waking up in an iron body, rather like the bad dreams I had in my youth about getting polio and being confined to an 'iron lung') but the choice was limited and it was S's half-term. I was secretly relieved to find '12 Years a Slave' had disappeared from the listings. Anyway, the new make is much less dark and brings in some interesting barbs  about the use of robots to 'keep Americans safe.' 

It chimes rather well with a wry comment on West Wing made when hostages had been taken and heavy reprisals were shouted for by the Senate: "Why should American lives be worth more than anyone else's?' 'I don't know, but they just ARE.'

Here's a recently published poem (I haven't been writing poetry lately so there aren't going to be any more for a while.)

White Crow.

Peck at the deviant bird.

Destroy the aberration.

Tear out its feathers. Pierce its flesh.

Make its blood flow.

          (Its blood is as red as our own, but do not notice that.)

Herald of the Apocalypse.

Portent.

To be followed by two-headed calves,

plagues,

and a sudden downpour of bufonidae.

The very antithesis of apple pie.

Of comforting homogeneity.

So peck at the deviant bird.

Destroy the aberration.

The healing power of telling the story.

It’s hard to read accounts of atrocities so in a cowardly way I generally don’t, (I like my meat plastic wrapped in a carton too.) There are somethings happening I know about but don’t want detail. In the copy of the Guardian Weekly, passed on to me a week after its issue date so comfortably historical, I found an article about atrocities that I could - had to - take in. 

A young social scientist in Uganda works for the National Memory and Peace Documentation Centre. His work is to collect stories from the survivors of  unspeakable acts of brutality. Mothers who have seen their children battered to death in front of them; men who have seen their waves raped and the children.. well, I don’t need to go on. 80,000 or more children have been abducted in the service of  armies and six-year-olds armed with stout sticks are marching behind twenty year olds toting AK 47’s to beat to death children and adults unknown to them because they are afraid to do otherwise and because they become hardened to the life. To them it must seem  like the computer games my grandsons play. These children, if they survive or escape are so traumatised their lives will never be free again.

In Ireland programs were set up to try to work with people who had seen (forgive me but in contrast) relatively mild horrors to help them get some peace; to help prevent them passing on pent-up rage, feelings of impotence; bile and a longing for retribution. These people do not have that sort of infrastructure in place. As their neighbours are also suffering terrible grief and pain there is no-one they can talk to who can listen and respond.  They have ways of dealing with the sickness in their society. They have stories and myths and rituals. One man in a village has nightmares which cause him to pull off all his clothes and run into the night. He is said to be possessed of a demon. So many dead have been left without the rituals of passing that a corpse should receive and the belief is that they will be unable to find peace so will turn into demons who will haunt the living. We can see it as an allegory for what is ‘really’ happening in their psyche. Probably our way of dealing is little better, but we all use what tools we have to hand.

The NMPDC is sponsoring Deo Komakech to go from village to village listening to people talk and recording their memories. He is not unlike the counsellor they might get in the western world. The people he listens to have affirmed that giving these stories to posterity does help. It can’t cure but it brings some sort of inner peace. They haven’t been unnoticed; they haven’t been existing in some terrible dream in which they are alone; they haven’t been wrong in feeling the way they feel. 

'The West Wing:' Verdict!

Now I’ve watched the whole of ‘The West Wing’ I'm going through for a second time more slowly, which is the way I tend to read books that excite me. Somewhere along the way I changed my opinion about having a quarrel with its niceness. I couldn’t have watched it if the main characters had been as bitchy, cynical and self-serving as their real-life counterparts may well be, so having them as basically good people trying to do the right thing is OK by me. 

I’ve grown very fond of the characters and, whilst I hope I’m not naïve enough to think this is how it is in American politics, at least I have a clearer idea of the process. The series has addressed, sometimes only superficially but probably with acuity, the domestic issues that arise perennially and that has been interesting. Gay rights. English as the official language (goodness - didn't realise that was a problem, but now I know it is and why.) State sponsored prayer (why they couldn’t have the same ‘do it if you like’ attitude of the UK I don’t know.) The Creationists where getting hotted up during the seven years of the series, so that comes up; mandatory minimum sentencing for drug offences which required enforcing because there was at the time a distinction made between powdered cocaine (used mainly by whites as a ‘recreational drug’) and crack cocaine more likely to be used by the black population who were the ones to get the long sentences whereas the daughters of senators destroying their nasal passages got fines and a slap on the wrist. It was therefore seen to be a racist issue.

And so forth. All this, plus the enormous complexity of foreign policy, the necessity to step in between warring (nuclear) factions, and generally try to understand what ‘keep the peace’ actually means when you are as influential  as the (self-styled) ‘Leaders of Western Democracy,’ are, in my untutored opinion, well dealt with.  There are some well-placed barbs from other nations who retaliate when asked to improved their record of human rights, with the obvious question: ‘What right have you to take the moral high ground when you destroyed the indigenous population of this country?’

In summary, accurate portrayal of reality or not, it gives a flavour of the potential chaos of a democratic government, the possible misuse of its power, and the potential chaos and misuse of unfettered personal power in a country without a democracy. The series has character development, humour and wit, intense drama, pathos, tension... it’s  a ‘Hero’s Journey’ sort of tale so it works for me. 

Slinging the noodles for New Year.

The beginning: dough made with Lidl pain flour & water, left for seven hours in a warm place. 

Beginning the slinging - what muscles this man must have!

getting longer..... beginning to double up...

and twisting.... and more slinging...

and hey presto - noodles! The chef has demonstrated on Channel 4, BBC etc and is from along line of noodlemakers in China who created a famous brand.

Marieta was brave to volunteer and proved adept.

The male who volunteered got slightly over-enthusiastic - nearly hit the roof and the chef!

Chloe looks grim but she was concentrating - she made some really neat little dumplings.

...which we ate with a soy sauce and vinegar dipping sauce. Yum.

Two types of tofu here, two types of noodles, seaweed, ginger and daikon. It was beyond scrumptious.

Dr Bisong Guo has her back to us so I got a picture of her beautiful jacket.The Chinese make really desirable clothes, much better than the 'ethnic' stuff that find its way into the cheap shops. This is classy!

Carting the horse.

I’ve had a pronounced scoliosis (there’s a joke there but someone already did it ) since I was twelve. It has given me a lot of aching-whilst-baking over the years but I’ve always been pliable, and with yoga to strengthen the supporting muscles I’ve probably had less back trouble than people with nice straight spines. Yesterday morning (or possibly Saturday when I fell asleep in an awkward position on the couch whilst watching ‘West Wing’) something went wrong and I found myself stuck on the edge of the bed in considerable pain. It helped to have an experienced osteopath to ring once I could let go with one hand; at least she could be reassuring and explain what was happening, but there’s not a lot she can do until the inflammation goes down and I can’t take anti-inflammatories because they are all aspirin based and contra-indicated for asthmatics. Fun. 

It’s a well known fact that you should be careful what you wish for. Last week I was out every day, twice on two occasions. It was lovely to see friends, but I got anxious because the writing project I have set myself to complete was not getting any time.  It crossed my mind that I needed a reason to stay home. I did add: ‘a reason that doesn’t include asthma, or bronchitis or galloping necrosis please’ but forgot to mention back pain. Yesterday I couldn’t sit still in any useful position, couldn’t focus on thinking what to write; could only wriggle, whimper, and long for distraction. I watched episodes of ‘West Wing.’  As usual I am seeing something for the first time that most have almost forgotten about. It is so good. My only quarrel with it is that all the White House staff from the president down are good, honourable, attractive and cuddly people - it really can’t be like that can it? The Republicans in it aren’t nice. I wonder how the writers got away with that? They can’t have wanted every republican in the country switching off. 

Chinese New Year begins 31st January. The Year of the Horse.

The spirit of the horse is recognized to be the Chinese people's ethos – making unremitting efforts to improve themselves. It is energetic, bright, warm-hearted, intelligent and able. Ancient people liked to designate an able person as 'Qianli Ma', a horse that covers a thousand li a day (one li equals 500 meters).

Strengths
People born in the year of the horse have ingenious communicating techniques and in their community they always want to be in the limelight. They are clever, kind to others, and like to join in a venture career. Although they sometimes talk too much, they are cheerful, perceptive, talented, earthy but stubborn. They like entertainment and large crowds. They are popular among friends, active at work and refuse to be reconciled to failure, although their endeavor cannot last indefinitely.

Weaknesses
They cannot bear too much constraint. However their interest may be only superficial and lacking real substance. They are usually impatient and hot blooded about everything other than their daily work. They are independent and rarely listen to advice. Failure may result in pessimism. They usually have strong endurance but with bad temper. Flamboyant by nature, they are wasteful since they are not good with matters of finance due to a lack of budgetary efficiency. Some of those who are born in the horse like to move in glamorous circles while pursuing high profile careers.  They tend to interfere in many things and frequently fail to finish projects of their own. 

I have an issue with this. My ex was born in the year of the Horse, is good with money, could never be accused of flamboyance or of talking too much, and he always finishes projects. Genghis Khan was also born in a Horse year and I don’t think many would claim he left much undone.  

Addendum: although the above information was found on  a  Chinese tourist site it seems someone has it wrong because according to another site my ex and our son are the sheep or goat, which goes to show nothing can be trusted. My second daughter is the Horse in the family, and she isn’t like Genghis Khan or Oprah Winfrey (another Horse) either. 

I continue to be fascinated by it all; horoscopes, astrology, tea-leaf reading and so forth. All signs of the creativity, the diversity yet uniformity and connectedness of the human mind. Sort that sentence out.

Twin Peaks

At last I got to find out what 'Twin Peaks' was all about, 24 years after its first airing. In my defence I wasn't watching TV in those days - well, hardly at all. The three children were - children, and more interested in books  (god! when did that go out of fashion?) Anyway, TP didn't show in our house, so when a friend lent it to me last week I thought it was some sort of US soap, like Dallas, and wasn't going to bother. Then I saw there was a murder and - oh well, I never can resist a good murder. Into the hole it went.

Good grief it's weird! 

And now I understand why my friend was seeking cherry pie. Nothing good in these parts sadly. I should look out a recipe.

Sky, Dizzy-dog, and poetry.

I love sky-scapes. I was trying to take a photo of Dizzy-dog who is now back on form - so much so that her tiny body hardly shows up against the sand, especially as she runs very fast. That blob down by the water is not her - at that distance she wouldn't fill a single pixel.

We've been very lucky with the weather, no floods, little rain, not much ice and no snow so far, although there is snow visible on the hills across the firth. Life toddles along very comfortably. I'm getting back into writing mode, aided by the Tuesday group. Hearing other people's work does stimulate the lazy muse in me. My friend Tom is trying to get a hundred or more poems into some sort of order to have them put into a book. I hope he manages it because his experiences with his bi-polar chemistry and the journey he has made along that path is worth reading. Also, and more importantly, because his poems are often quite beautiful.

The poems that come out of us are manifestations of our being. This ponderous statement, perhaps fit only for Private Eye's 'Pseud's Corner,' started as something of an 'Aha!' revelation after I'd been listening to folk reading on Tuesday. Their poetry reflects their nature. Our newest member has already had a considerable success with her work, I remember how much people who bought her collections enjoyed what they found therein. One reader told me that she took Eileen's books with her wherever she went because the way Eileen translates events, landscapes an people into poetry helped her to see her own life in a different way. Eileen's poems are delicate traceries of imagery, as light as a newly spun web, containing what I can best call 'atmospheres,' little gaseous clouds of mood and meaning. They never thunder or assault but they share an experience in a way that endures. I am in awe.