Nothing … it’s enough to make my heart bleed. Next I shall ponder nihilism and whether to kill myself might not be easier on all of us.
Whoever brought up the subject of “Nothing” might like to join me in to be abandoned suicide mission. See it through – that’s one of my mottos. See it through – life that is. Some people climb unsurmountable mountains, jump out of planes. I don’t. For me LIFE is thrill enough without putting myself at arbitrary danger.
As Watson to your Miss Marple will tell you: I am in an absolutely brilliant mood with a big M. If pulling the duvet over my head and lying VERY still weren’t so boring I’d consider it. Don’t you just hate that phrase, usually dished out at a funeral to the very person who really could do WITHOUT platitudes that very minute: “Life must go on.” Yes, dear. It sure must. Mainly for the living.
Where was I? Vexed. Have many things on my mind between Magpie’s plea for fairer voting, trying to follow in BHB’s footsteps of keeping house ship shape (most befitting since I live so close to the docks) and waiting for Barath to show up at my doorstep asking why I led his brother Ramana astray.
You know something? A woman needs some peace. No, not a piece of duvet to pull over her head. Or a piece of cake. Or fighting with Ramana’s loyal female readership over a PIECE of him (I will take him whole and be sparing at sharing).
On and off people (mainly English, Danish and Swedish) do wonder why there is murder in the heart of those tucked away in dead ends (like Kopenhagen or a village in Devonshire). I could tell you why. But I won’t. I only stretch as far as Cluedo – Professor White in the shed with a pencil sharpener. Try and tell that your average Watson.
Myself useless at watching anything that involves more violence than shower in that moon lit hotel crazy. Son, brother, father, anyone of a male bend (even the gays) will ask me: “Urse, WHY are we watching this [film]? You are not looking.” Exactly. Why would I? My mission in life to close my eyes. Little worse than one own’s imagination. Don’t need it all spelt out. One of the reasons I don’t watch news on TV: Do I really need to see others’ heartache, tears at their lives torn apart? Only to then switch off – literally? Cosy and comfy in feathered nest? Dont’ think so. Voyeurism at its worst.
So that was that. Once more apropos of nothing.