rlbourges

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain*

In Absurdlandia, Animals, coffee, Drafts, Food, Hautvoir, I Ching, Music, Revision, Theater, TV on January 2, 2016 at 10:30 am

I tried, I swear. Then, as I’d done concerning Wagner, I decided I could live with the fact I didn’t like his music.

The biggest difference, in this case, rests on interpretation. Both in the sense of explaining the meaning of something, and giving a representation of reality.

I’m speaking of two things here: the New Year Wishes by the Président de la République française, and one of those sad dreams combining discomfort, sense of loss and estrangement.

Of the first, I clicked out at the 1’20 mark of a 10’05 speech. “Français, Françaises, je suis fier de vous,” the man says, like a paterfamilias handing out report cards to his unruly collection of ruffians. The President. Saying he’s proud of… well, of them since I’m not French and, therefore, cannot lose my citizenship for the crime of bi-nationalism. Still, the attitude rankles. As for the falseness and phoniness of words spoken straight back into the teleprompter – please. Give us the out-takes.

So. A sad dream in which I lost my kid brother as I waited for him in a car parked on the 15th avenue of an unknown town. In the dream, I realized he must have forgotten  our point of rendezvous. Felt guilty, of course, of letting such a young one explore the town on his own.

Woke up, walked the dog, then discovered I could stomach coffee again. As for the lost brother…how long do you go on grieving someone who’s wiped you out of his life?

Since the waiting occurred on 15th avenue in the dream, I looked up hexagram 15 for the hell of it. Modesty and all the benefits that accrue from same. What can I say? Clowns get swatted, but spring back up for a last quip. Meanwhile, senior advisors to The Prince writhe and faint in coils, attempting to please and squeeze their way to power all the same. (I hear one Jacques Attali sees himself as a likely candidate for the 2017 Battle for the Elysée? Why not Bernard Tapie while we’re at it? He’s raked in some four hundred million euro, making him a man of independent means. Graft will hold no sway over him. In looking him up google-wise, I see there’s a website with his name, offering advice on how to save on current accounts. But surely, this is a facetious spin-off.)

Whether any of this relates to the real-life brother out there, I have no idea. It does clear the way to a few more paragraphs of writing and that will have to do as accrued benefits to a violent bout of indigestion.

*such were the weather conditions outside when I walked the dog. From the shafts of light sneaking in through the closed shutters, the day seems on the road to brightening up.

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