I am living

I am living on paracetamol
and pain. They're my
constant companions.
Each time I think about the lies
and betrayal,
it hurts so much.


A pain that sits beside
my heart, behind my
chest bone. Inside me.
I find the lies the worst
making it all my fault,
justifying what they have
done.
I cry at thoughts of them,
I cry with temper and
anger at thoughts of her.
I cry when I talk about them
I don't want to talk about them
anymore.
I don't want to talk,
I don't want to think,
I don't want to cry,
I don't want to anymore.

Dix

Found Writings

I have just finished my notebook - the one I carry with me in my handbag and write down my thoughts, ideas and general info. This is a selection of those writings. Sorry - some may have been blogged before - some may not.

Cold Hard Cash

Why do the say 'cold hard cash?'

But not frozen solid money.

Yeah, cash is cold

but hard, maybe.

Hard to get.

Hard to keep.

Hard to touch? - Never.

Written 10/05/10 by Dix

The Financial Times

In times of credit crunch

and financial crashes,

unimaginable cash losses

and smashes,

futures are about gradualism,

time waiting and realism.

Written June 10 by Dix

Store

My grandmother-in-law

(if that makes sense),

liked to store food goods

just in case.

It's a habit she developed

during the war

and found hard to break.

Written 17/06/10 by Dix

Recycling Bags

Recycling bags

can't be stored -

they deteriorate

in the cupboard.

Recycling bags can't

be recycled

indefinitely.

Written June 2010 by Dix

Buster

Buster felt lackluster

So he thought he'd watch a blockbuster

about a man called Thruster

who had a knuckleduster.

The main character was a distruster

and a seriel mistruster.

Buster started to get into a fluster

trying to find a duster

or find the knob to adjust'er

the TV readjuster.

Buster couldn't see through the dusty darkness

of the badly filmed blockbuster

so with all the energy he could muster

he turned it off.

And threw it on the composter

(and went to sleep).

Dix

Boomerang Generation

Busty girl leaves home and moves to a

Dusty room in someone else's house. It smells so

Fusty and made her sneeze, the

Musty atmosphere catches her breath.

Gusty winds made the windows rattle,

Rusty radiators that are only ever warm.

Frosty breath follows her like a bloom,

Crusty carpets crackle under foot, so she uses her

Trusty mobile and cries to her mum.

Busty girl goes home.

Dix

This was an exercise to create something from a page of the rhyming dictionary. Fun and interesting - poetry - not sure.

Passionate TV

Firstly, excuse the photo of Anne Robinson - I am not a fan of her style and never will be - but I am a huge fan of this program My Life in Books. It is a half hour program shown on BBC2 at 6.30pm where famous people (I am careful here not to use the word celebrity because I feel they are not celebrities but people who have become famous for lots of reasons, not just TV but politics and writers etc. They come on the show and chose books that they love and talk about them; introduce them to the audience and in away introduce themselves to the audience.

There has been a wide variety of people on the show who have all been interesting and have all had something to say. I would be a liar if I said I wanted to read all the books that they recommended but certainly there are many that I would like to read; many that I have already read and many that I wish I could read (different from wanting to read because some of them seem like books I would struggle to get through but wish I had the stamina).

I have found the writers particularly passionate (well I would, wouldn't I) - they talk about books in language that I use, with the passion that I feel. They hold and smell and caress books in the way that I do, and remember the characters and plot like they are old friends. They talk about the memories evoked by reading this book and how they changed their lives or how their lives where changing when they read it. They talk about memories of family, of lovers, of children, even of world events and politics. They talk about love.

I record this program and watch it at least twice - just to feel the joy of the reader - the joy of their language - their joy for books. I feel that this is my program, this is something that I can totally connect to and love (not so much on the TV for me like this anymore).

I hope the BBC keep this program (maybe once a week). Its OK if it is on at a later, even obscure time, those of us who love it will find away.

The program is part of World Book Year (Week?) and has made me think about which books I would talk about on the program - so here is my list of My Life in Books (in no particular order).

The Colour Purple by Alice Walker - I studied this book and though to some it may be obvious this is the first time anyone told me that Jesus may not have been white, he was not the white man with beard and long hair that I had seen on the cross all my childhood. It made me think about what faith was really about - how we all fit in the world of God. It made me think about status and position and pain and suffering and survival and love. It made me think and for that I will always be truly thankful.

The Sea by John Banville - I love this book because of the way it is written, the pure beauty of the writing - I read it with just pure jealously and wishing I could write words this beautifully. I have to say I never really loved the main character, not sure he is really that nice a person, not sure I totally thought the plot and storyline were brilliant but all that is forgiven for such beautiful words. Just to read with pure envy and admiration is an amazing experience.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig - I read this book when I was a teenager and loved it, I guess maybe I wasn't totally sure what it was saying, that I didn't have the knowledge or experience to truly understand his words, but I read it again whilst I was at Uni and really understood why it had impacted on my so much. A basic story weaved around a philosophy for life, a philosophy of loss and love. I tried to explain this book to my college classmates and failed dismally - something I will always regret.

Rebecca by Daphine Du Maurier - I am not really a huge classics fan, really not into the angst and annoying women of many of the Austen, Bronte clans but I love the second Mrs De Winter. (Think that is right???). I love her outsideness, how she lives in the world she feels she doesn't understand and doesn't fit with. Her gentle soul that is so easily hurt and bruised but yet in the end is strong. The wonderful picture of the awful first wife, written so well she appears in the readers mind like some awful beautiful witch, the weak husband, the wonderful scenery and house. I revisit this book often to remind myself of its beauty.

The Essential Spike Milligan - I love Spike Milligan, I particularly love his poetry. I wish I had got to know his work when he was alive, had been able to watch him on TV and explore his older work. I didn't. I read his poetry as much as possible, I buy anything of his I see second hand and am trying to get a full catalogue of his work (particularly his poetry). It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, it makes me think about so much. To me he was so underrated, possibly so misunderstood by his peers and certainly be later generations. I think readers will return to his work in the future and see something new, something wonderful. That it what I see.

Amy Johnson Queen of the Air by Midge Gillies - this is a very personal book and one which I will never forget. Amy Johnson flew with my grand father - we have family photographs of them together and family stories of their relationship! I never really knew who she was, and still might not (this is a biography) but read this book to see if I could understand how my grandfather got to fly planes, what got him there. It was so interesting and I searched the pages for what might have been a clue to him, a mention of him, a feel of him. (There is a piece that might be about him but I can't tell and the author was unable to identify this man either - that I believe is a story for the future). This book is well written and interesting and helped me try to understand a man I never knew, who died in his plane crash in 1936 but has always seemed so exciting to me.

At the end of the show they are asked which book is their guilty pleasure, which of these would they take on holiday if they could only take one. Of course I would take them all but I suspect my guilty please is the Spike Milligan because he can evoke some many emotions and I can see something different each time I read them.

There are many more books I could list here (the obvious omission being Harry Potter) but these are the ones I have chosen here and now.

I would love to know what your life in books is, what is your little list of books and why? Care to share?

Dix

Broken New Years Resolutions

I

I always make New Years Resolutions (NYR's) - normally the same old stuff, do more; lose weight; be more; write more; write everyday; get a better job etc, etc, etc.

This year I didn't do all those things - well I did in my mind but mainly I concentrated on two NYR's - one was to be more positive, more optimistic about life. I have tried really hard to do this and apart from when I have been feeling crappy and ill, have tried to keep to it. I feel better for although I still have to regularly remind myself, I like it, I life living life to the positive - it helps - it make life better, it makes life easier.

The other NYR's was to stop buying books. This was really about saving money. As anyone will know who regularly reads my blog, money is tight and in the main I have stop being a consumer - I have had to. But somehow I have kept buying books, normally cheaply new or second hand but was still regularly buying books. In fact I have a massive pile to read and keep thinking one day I will have the time and the energy to just sit and plough through them.

I have failed miserably. It is not yet the end of February and I bet I have purchased the best part of twenty books - some second hand (I am still indulging my passion for second hand poetry books), some cheaply new (the pound shop has some pretty amazing hard backs and I picked one up the other day that was actually signed by the author), some in the Supermarket where £4 can buy a good current novel and today I went to Waterstones and 'bloo' £25 quid on new full price and reduced books.

And you know what I don't feel guilty, I really don't. I love books, I love reading them, I love owning them, I love looking at them and touching them, I love talking about them - I LOVE BOOKS.

So I will continue to buy books (luckily my local town does not have a decent book shop so the opportunity for new books is not so often), I will continue to trade and sell my read books, I will continue to love them. I will continue to find new books, to find other people with the same passion to talk about them. I will continue to buy books.

For what is life without a good book?

Dix

Over a 1000 pageviews

Total Pageviews
1,031

I am really pleased that since Nov 2008 I have had over a thousand people view my blog. Now I know that some, or maybe most of these views may have been me but even so some will have been others and for that I thank them truly.

Reaching over a 1000 pageviews is for me like reaching 100 friends in Facebook. Not really important I know, but nice and strangely fulfilling (in a kinda doesn't really matter way).

I am going to really try to blog more often this year and keep going even after Jan/Feb when I normally begin to lose a bit of interest or struggle to find the time.

Look forward to 2000 pageviews.

Thanks to everyone and anyone reading my blog - thankyou.

Dix

The Case of Matching Underwear

Firstly I start this blog with a massive apology. JC I fully and completely apologise. I was wrong (as I often am ) and you should take absolutely no bloody notice of me in the future or ever again!!! Well certainly when it comes to clothing advice anyway.

When JC and I first became friends she used to say that she only wore matching underwear (sorry for putting too much info out there JC but need to for this blog!) and I thought it was well, very anal. What did it matter what was under you clothes as long as they were clean and comfortable. But I was wrong.

Recently I have purchased a couple of sets of matching underwear - nothing expensive and from Adsa but pretty and feminine. And there is the rub - wearing matching underwear makes you feel pretty and feminine. It makes me have that little smile inside when I think about it. I don't even mind too much at looking myself in the mirror in them. I think about my pretty underwear and I think about sex (in a good healthy way - I hope) and I think I am pretty, I am a women. This then leads to other positive thoughts. I do have a voice, I can have my dreams, I can get a job that I want. I have value. All from £9 worth of underwear you ask. But yes, it works for me.

As I walked the dog on the beach this morning, in my matching underwear (and believe me my dog walking coat, Deputy Daug hat and big black boots are not sexy at all - just warm) I thought about my mum who always used to tell us to wear clean underwear in case we had an accident. And it was a nice memory and made me smile. And then I smiled as I thought about my pink flowered bra and matching pants (even though I wanted to pull them out of my bum - I managed to ignore the impulse -well you do have to have some class even on the beach and anyway someone is always watching when you think you are alone).

So what have I discovered, that a simple thing like matching underwear can make me feel better, better about myself and then better in the world.

Matching underwear can help me be 'fortified by optimism'.

What I want to learn in 2011 is that the little things can make life alright.

The little things can make life good.

The little things can make life worth living.

Life has its ups and downs (2010 has felt like lots of downs and not enough ups) but I have learnt in January 2011 that wearing matching underwear can make me feel good. That wearing matching underwear can make life feel good. One little lesson for the month to help the world seem easier. Gotta help - hasn't it??

Dix

ps obviously I look nothing like the picture on my blog - it is just an illustration (and anyway I have never worn a thong although I am told they are comfy - think I will give them a miss for now, perhaps an experience for later in the year??)

Books

It has occurred to me that no matter how difficult this year has been (and my god it has been difficult) and no matter how little money I have that I have still continued to buy books. I know it is the last luxury I need to give up if I am to keep trying to get on top of my finances. I will say in my justification, and even I am not sure if this is an excuse, that mainly I have been buying second hand books not new but still I have an extra massive pile to read.

I have shifted through books on car boots, in charity shops, the Pound Shop and a reasonable second hand shop in town. I justify the second hand shop by taking in bags of unwanted books and trading them. Of course I always buy more than I ever receive credit for but I have managed to clear some shelf space. Most of the best books I have read this year have been from these sources. I don't borrow many books and those I do tend to be non fiction books, because most of my friends read different sorts of genres of books.

I have found a method of identifying books that I might like - firstly the title, it has to grab me somehow, secondly the cover of course, I can't help but be drawn in by a cover that I like, then more importantly and the one thing that will make me buy or discard a book, the blub. If it sounds boring or just doesn't grab me then it returns to the shelves. And finally the one thing that seems to have helped me find some good reads is if the book has been nominated or selected for some type of award or book club. They just seem to be slightly better written and have better plot line, not always but so far I have found it a good success rate - 80 - 90% at least.

The only slight failure in this system has been trying to identify good children's/young teenager book. Firstly there is some real crap out there (any potential author take note and think about doing better - I am) and secondly it is hard to identify the good ones. I have talked in book shops, I have got a list from my friend JC who is training to be an English teacher and just trying to keep looking, even reading Amazon reviews which can be hit and miss. I have read some that are frankly, well rubbish and only one that I thought exceptional (The Boy in the Blue Stripped Pyjamas - see below). I need to research more and understand better but will keep trying.

Even so I have a massive pile of unread book and need to save my money and read some of them and stop buying new. It will help my finances greatly and give me some more space in the house.

Dix

More from Study in Grey

Parts of Having It Out With Melancholy by Jane Kenyan




4 OFTEN

Often I go to bed as soon after dinner
as seems adult
(I mean I try to wait for dark)
in order to push away
from the massive pain in sleep's
frail wicker coracle.

6 IN AND OUT

The dog searches until he finds me
upstairs, lies down with a clatter
of elbows, puts his head on my foot.

Sometimes, the sound of his breathing
saves my life - in and out, in
and out: a pause, a long sigh....

and

Depressed Mode by Heidi Greco

i am wearing
the same
tired clothes
for three long days now
around the clock
i know
it is not
a good sign


Perhaps I underestimated this little book - there are some extracts/writings that I don't get but why would I understand it all. Others just give me little rays of understanding and comfort.

Maybe I will keep this book after all.

Dix

Consumer's Lot

He brought the thing he didn't need, with money he didn't have, from someone he didn't know. It had been designed by someone he hadn't heard of. It was built by someone who didn't care, in a country he'd never been to. He got it home and it didn't work.

By Kevin Level from Mini Sagas published by The Daily Telegraph

Feeling old

Boy has discovered Facebook - and enjoying talking to his mates on it - and a girl whose initials are written on his rubber???? Anyway he asked me today what does 'kwel' mean? I didn't have a clue and neither did him. I desperately tried to work it out, something beginning with kiss or kick - huh, but nothing came to mind. I began to think about swalk and norwich and hoped that wasn't it.

What does 'kwel' mean - you probably know but it means 'cool' yes 'cool' so one perfectly good four letter word with a pretty unambigious meaning is replaced with another slightly confusing four letter word. Why??

Most of the text type speak I hate - l8r, lol, etc - I do occasionally use IMHO which is really old fashioned but when my younger mates, or friends kids send me messages I can't read I just get frustrated and angry. For god sake we have predicted text use the full word and hey, how about some punctuation - it's great and makes us all take a breath.

Sometimes being dyslexic makes words confusing enough but this language, well it alienates me and I hate that.

So you see I am just old and grumpy and just not happening and down with it (or some such thing).

Bob's Time

Bob said 'Why am I waiting?'
'Because she is late.'
Bob said - to himself really but in a stage whisper
'I think I'll leave.'

Pause

Bob paces.

Pause

Sighs.

Pause

Bob leaves.

DiH


I love writing these little Bob poems - they just come to me and I often have to write them down quickly. I am going to collect them all together and get my daughter to illustrate them - so sorry they may get posted again with pictures. I hope they say a little something about - well all sorts of aspects of the human condition - if only in humorous form.

Bob will be back!

Bob's Answer

Bob’s said ‘How are you today?’
‘I’m pissed off.’
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m fed up.’
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m miserable.’
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m tired.’
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m annoyed.'
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m fine – how are you?’
Bob said ‘I’m great – thank you’

Bob walked off.

By DiH

Red

We stare at each other
In total eye contact
Absorbed in the stare that is
Primitive,
Challenging,
Uncomfortable.

Bodies parallel in drama
Our hands high five frozen
In a single slap
Our bodies stretched out that is
Threatening
Intimidating
Tense.

The music pulsates us
To the next move
Where both hand held tight
Defying the sound
To step away, staring
Eye to eye that is
Defiant
Uneasy
Unnerving.

A slight smile flickers on our mouths
Yet our eyes stay focused,
Stay serious, we work, we move
In time to the rhythm of the music, that is
Primal
Bold
Apprehensive.

We circle, faraway and shoulder to shoulder,
An image of menace,
A form of contact,
Locked in combat
Empowering
Engaging
Brave
Physical Theatre.


By
DiH

I would love some feedback on this piece. What does it say to you? What are you thinking?

A Victor Meldrew Moment!

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am not really one for getting tied up in knots about the 'Queen's English'. I still struggling with knowing what are nouns, pro-nouns, adverbs etc so I basically write instinctively. (Although others may not agree). I have tried teaching myself this grammer stuff, but I struggle to really understand but yet I am still able to write. I think growing up in the 60's and going through modern teaching practices, which really seemed to mean they taught you nothing (especially at in country secondary modern). I am dyslexic (what an awful word to describe someone who struggles with words) although I think it is quite mild by some standards. I struggle with a,e, iou, type words eg Brian becomes Brain and Dairy becomes Diary (not helpful when using a spell checker). But I struggle on. But recently something has really been 'pissing' me off. Everytime I turn on the TV, someone is using this work incorrectly and I find myself screaming at the TV.
What am I talking about?
The use of the word specific.

specific
adjective relating to one thing and not others; particular:

The virus attacks specific cells in the brain.
The money is intended to be used for specific purposes.
FORMAL
The disease seems to be specific to (= only found in) certain types of plant.
Is there anything specific you want from the shops?

NOT

pacific

pacific adjective peaceful or helping to cause peace

or the name for an ocean

The two words are not (in my opinion) interchangeable and should not be used as such.

So the next time some idiot on the TV talks about a pacific item or even pacifically I am going to scream, shout and probably throw something.

I just can't help it.

Yes, I thought

‘I don’t do walking in other peoples footsteps’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather struggle in the sand
with each step oozing backwards and down
like an escalator in reverse.

‘I don’t do removing my shoes; they make me small’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather stumble on tip-toe
making tiny heel pin pricks in the floor
like a host of unruly polka dots.

‘I don’t do unnecessary pills; they make me fat’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather go red in the face
and drop to the floor
like a lump of hot lard from a frying slice.

‘I don’t do proper food; it gives me spots’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather lather your face
with frothy make-up, thick as concrete
like a badly plastered wall.

By DiH


The first line of this poem came to my whilst walking the dog on the beach and I think it is still a work in progress. I like the work because (I hope) it says as much about the narrator, the voice of the work, as it does about the person (people) being discussed. I would like to do more with this perhaps add some 'he said' lines as well. I think the last line works well (like a) although I can't remember the proper term for saying something is 'like a' - can someone let me know.

Any readers greatly appreciated.
Any views greatly appreciated.

Di

Confidence

These are some words that I have been working on for a while. Trying to understand the difference it makes in attributing emotions to first person (me/I) or male and female subjects. I am not sure how this works but liked trying the differences.

Me Confidence

What is it about me that does not believe in me?
And my abilities to achieve.
Why?
Do I focus on the failures
and forget all the times
I have met my dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to my desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

Her Confidence

What is it about her that does not believe in her?
And her abilities to achieve.
Why?
Does she focus on the failures
and forget all the times
she has met her dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to their desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

His Confidence

What is it about him that does not believe in him?
And his abilities to achieve.
Why?
Does he focus on the failures
and forget all the times
He has met his dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to his desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

DiH

The Steet (Dead Man Walking)

The man was walking down the street. He wasn’t going anywhere in particular. He wasn’t returning from an exciting rendezvous. He was just filling his day in a meaning less sort of way.

The man didn’t walk slowly but he didn’t walk fast. He kinda meandered along, his steps evenly spaced. Sometimes his feet straddled the pavement cracks, sometimes firmly striding up from their centres.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t look down. He didn’t look left. He didn’t look right. He just stared straight ahead.

But seeing.

He manoeuvred around the obstacles of the street.

He manoeuvred around lamp posts; Council rubbish bins; empty Tesco carrier bags; discarded KFC boxes; cyclists; dog poo and people.

He manoeuvred around men and women and dogs and cats.

He manoeuvred past children walking, running, cycling, on skate boards and screaming.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t acknowledge them.

He just kept his regular strides past them down the street.

He strode on.

The man was called Brian.



DiH

The Cat

A friend is blogging some of her older work - which I love by the way - so I thought I would blog a piece I found from 2003. This will make you understand why I don't write serious poetry.

The Cat was Black and White

The cat was black and white

Large and round

He walked the wall

Twice a day

To get his breakfast and dinner

I haven't seen him today.

He must be away

or just not hungry.

DiH

I am so glad I only write poetry for fun!