American comedian and author Ruby Wax talking about mindfulness on BBC breakfast this morning. Brilliant interview where she discusses her new book on mental health ‘Mindfulness guide for the frazzled’.
http://www.bbc.com/news/health-35576691
Category: Writing
Is Morrissey having a giraffe? Or is he perhaps lounging somewhere in Stuttgart draped in a black cape laughing his head off like Count from Sesame Street or am I the only blogger on the planet that genuinely likes his new book ‘List of the Lost’? I don’t think so! These reviews are harsh, almost vindictive. Surely such venomous wrath should be reserved for specimens the likes of the Karcrashians. Christ on a bike, it’s unreal! Is it disdain I wonder, for the words themselves that dwell between the FSC certified paper that stir such angst in people? What have we become? A race of cripples to pangs of rage and jealousy? Can we no longer write about the things we love? Is it the fact that a gentle solitary soul with no mind to cause harm to a living thing on earth could actually be cursed with not one, but two outrageous talents that is equalled by few? It can’t be the paltry sum for which some may have parted with for the drama of fiction as they would most probably squander the same if not MORE on a snivelling git like Ronald McDonald or Kentucky Fried Hell basket of death given half a chance. The mind boggles. More questions than answers. Maybe it’s this demented mind that is disillusioned from the heat of the midday sun or the slurp of one too many sangria under the Ibiza sky that thinks this book is actually quite good if not, dare I say a work of art. But who knows and does anyone care? Answers on a post to the above please.. This in not a book review of any description just a hangover on human behaviour, for humans have fascinated us for decades and it would surely be a dull dark dreary world if we were all the same. God forbid! As usual, the moral rights of the author has been sadly averted in this case so I find I have no choice but to balance the books. With thanks and praise to Whores In Retirement as always. mrdjdwyer, somewhere in Ibiza town, celebrating great art from a great artist, on his birthday 10/10/2015, mine not his.
dream brother…
The first thing I remember seeing, was a field of yellow as far as the eye could see. I was standing there alone, looking out at the tall leafy trees and the blue sky. A few white clouds hovering in the distance. The sun was shining brightly, I could feel the heat burning.
In the distance, I could see a detached timber house slightly to my left. It was a huge house, more old than new. The kind of house you might see in a western, like that movie ‘Giant’ with James Dean, Liz Taylor and Rock Hudson. Something pulled me towards the house… I walked up the grassy path and in the distance I could hear soft voices.
As I walked the path toward the house, I could see two women talking, laughing and tending to the flowers in the garden outside. The women were standing in a moate around the front of the house. In the doorway, on the steps stood a lone figure, silent. A tall slim man dressed in white shirt, braces, black waistcoat and trousers. As I approached, I recognised the two women. It was my Mother and her sister. They were laughing at the man. The man was my uncle.
I turned away and walked back up the path…
Again, I heard voices..this time hollars.. I looked back over my shoulder to see what the commotion was. Two men drove a lorry like a milk float at great speed in front of the house through the field, almost out of control. Joyriding and hollaring…I could tell they were having fun. Suddenly, the lorry skidded to a halt in the field. To the right, a line of vintage cars. The driver reversed into a space between two cars.
I had to see who was driving. I walked back down towards the field of cars. The two men hopped out and took off towards the house. I recognised the driver. It was my brother, the passenger was his good friend, the prince of darkness.
I got right up to the lorry. It was empty now. I stooped down to see the licence plate at the back.
I could see the words, it read…Tír na nÓg…and just then, I awoke.
Dave Dwyer .com 