Eva

Too quiet now...not like the Don....but too quiet
Ca va? e la perform de la Reigne?.....this train don't stop here...

Un autre chantuese...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUDshT19j8Q





Life
's what you make it
x

shakh your bootie

A oui, j'etais l'etranger......but Carol Carpenter???? You and MH have at least one thing in common, if not hard faces.

Apologies for the absence, have been inhabiting an alter ego for a couple of days. Normal service will resume presently..... When your train stops be sure to let us know which platform you end up on - hope you're wearing a tag instructing "please look after this bear", paddington.

MataHari

it's Karen...you philistine

shakh your bootie

Oh, just go-pole the pirogue down the bayou, will you....

Eva

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh Un nounours? Vous et tres mechant!..

Besides how do you know I will need a good leg wax when I get off the train?? Just thought Karen's song was quite nice to twirl your brolly in time to......then you changed to a latent Stephen Ward character......From what I hear....wish you'd kept your brolly????

shakh your bootie

It was a rather fetching little Brollywood avatar.... but I changed it for you (Albert Camus, L'Etranger..... etc etc.) I've out obscured St Jude herself it seems....

SYB the Abstruse

BTW - is there a salon on the train? Because I think it would be a little off to wax in front of the other passengers. Unless you're on the Orient Express, and have a private berth...

And aren't you a little old to be inter-railing, anyway?

Eva

[QUOTE=shakh your bootie;
And aren't you a little old to be inter-railing, anyway?[/QUOTE]



'Said 'the Fossil' to the 30- something'



Relcutantly, I have to concede,your posts are too funny.

Keeps your hands out the Marmalade Jar.

shakh your bootie

Sticky fingers really aren't hygenic....

Eva

Thought I'd resurrect(don't panic SYB) old snakehips here to post in-quite rightly Meow wanted us to 'spot spoiling' her lovely thread.Sorry Meow....


Anyways, ref your quote SYB :'OK, now you are starting to freak me out.......

Don't read Sylvia Plath alone

The Samaritans are doing special counselling for web-based suicide cults....

08457 90 90 90'....
__________________
i like my women like i like my coffee..... in a plastic cup.



I don't read Sylvia alone.I read it with lots of other things too................

What I really want to know from you-you daft big flouncing camper is- where is me bloody tea Vicar?

Eva

Buona Notte



http://www.bollywoodsargam.com/video...ter_video.html

Eva

Did your tent fly away?

shakh your bootie

I blame the BE night out.... Hangover stopped play - wasn't up to taming nature red in tooth and claw yesterday.

Anyway, Lady Lazarus, I've concluded from your reading list that you are, in fact, a closet emo.....

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage ----
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.


It's touching that Sylvia was aware of her own condition - much like Virginia Wolfe was - but don't you think there comes a point where it just decends into bragging one's misery???

Eva

Let me chew a while on my pop tart- get back to you...........

Eva

Quote SYB 'It's touching that Sylvia was aware of her own condition - much like Virginia Wolfe was - but don't you think there comes a point where it just decends into bragging one's misery???
__________________

Not with Sylvia no.Acute neurotic&psychotic clinical depression relieved her of any such thought process.I think you are applying your rational(yes I know-risk factor there) mind in trying to understand the irrational actions of a tortured one.Whingeing? yes? Bragging? No.......''Okay,darlings Mommy's just going to stick her head in the oven and kill herself while you sleep this afternoon''.
I don't know @ Virginia but the nearest I can imagine to a Bragging Whineger is p'haps Dorothy Parker who excacerbated her 'depression' by pouring copious amounts of alcohol down her gullet between each caustic and very witty verse of her'suicide' poems.She had a fixation with death- a result of her mother dying when Dorothy was five. She wrote about it in a humorous and despairing way-advocating it preferable to life.
Psychobable isn't my bag at all but I wonder about the link between melancholia and creativity-Depressive Illness is ten times greater among writers and artists then any other profession-of course they are slaves to their emotions but that is a phenomenol ratio.I think it is attributed to Grahame Greene ; a statement about a great writer having to experience human suffering to be able to write about it..............Byron,TS Elliot,Tenesee Williams, Ernest Hemmingway, Charles Dickens,The Fitzgeralds; to name but a few.....creativity-Kahlo;Callas........
I'll stay sane and talentless thanks.


Parker; Resume

Razors pain you
Rivers are damp
Acid stains you
And drugs cause cramp
Guns aren't lawful
Nooses give
Gas smells awful
You might as well live.

shakh your bootie

We should re-name this thread the spotty sixth-former's place de poseuer...

The purpose of art. Discuss in 10,000 words..... Tell you what, we'll do this discussion in leather armchairs with port and cheese sometime - in the meanwhile I'll be brief....

I think that one is faced with a choice of two possible delusions - malato imagginario or sano imagginario.... Me, I think that both are contained in any given individual, otherwise Kahlo, Elliot et al would find no audience. Instead, they find resonance in readers who imagine themselves sane.....

Poem reflecting your mood at the moment... Switching genres - the ghazl.

Let Me Think
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz

You ask me about that country whose details now escape me,
I don't remember its geography, nothing of its history.
And should I visit it in memory,
It would be as I would a past lover,
After years, for a night, no longer restless with passion,
With no fear of regret.
I have reached that age when one visits the heart merely as a courtesy.