Yestermorn in his blue top...
He not only listens, but my my he really does have the finest mind.
In fact he alone is a true work of 'art'.
Anyway the land...
Now i know, to the Lowlander, suburban drifter inner... this is a sop, a trope... something not really understood, nor actually enjoyed, even if by default preached as their journey's end. Which is not quite the right usage of sop/trope unless the real context is entirely storyfied..
Which is all i care about as it's more thrilling than Tolstoy's Resurrection (minus the last 2 pages as he also agrees) or Rachel Cusk's (only good writer in UK this century even if a splendid half breed) fabulous efforts to describe it all... and rightly leave the reader a bit unsatisfied neigh even baffled, as she knows it's almost indescribable..
But ten out of ten for attempting
I know i have eleven in my chronicles...
Ohh yes that loser and shirker Odysseus with his mere twenty year camper van trip... and pandering to the horsey fans...
And all that... he needs a challenger. Who may manage maybe even twenty five or so.... I do love my Oddessay to
absolutely NOwhere... and got there.
But back to the rest...i mean for years i really do quite enjoy the weekly dose of the mainly Abrahamic hippos and was genuinely sad that Edward Stourton 'passed' - my my how that is becoming the latest sop word for died, dead parroted, kicked count Buckethead permanently, probably of being in an office for far too much of the week.. as being outdoors all i care about keeps you staistically alive longer...
Anyway switching on and even hearing that one department of the same Abrahamic one are now wordcriming another office department next door in the same building of the People of The Book
department
(he loved my garden allegory - " i had a vision as if i am the prophet of all prophets, not for profit.... about a decade ago... my old yard just sitting pondering why all religious twats seem to dislike other religious twats.... and almost deny other departments exist!.. which does make me truly sad and i don't understand how bleak they are... 7th days decry the majority who worship sundays...etc.... so i was sat on my old sofachair with all the lovely natural weed-plants left and tended, one weedplant has that species of insects buzzin around it, the next plant a different species etc... and the plants need the insects to pollenate and give it a reason to even exist....so in reality each plant is an almost separate ecosystem evolved hand in glove ... all these different quite separate independent ecosystems in my old yard garden.... not really at all involved with each other....just being.... equally now ...
[ohh splendid even if not a summery one with all the summer 'weeds' towering here and there this, to desktop-hand, one of millions, has far deeper double entenders, soon]
"so yes... none of these plants - my parable for dodgy religions, are special or unique they're all just dotted about and a bit dotty in their ownness...
" and has happened after years of enjoying them, a baddie may just come and roundup em all to death.... but actually as i wouldnt even wish a butterfly pinching a bit of each sour and soulless nectarine flower ... any harm that wasn't part of it,...but maybe could be...I'm with you... slash and burn them all on your Youtube channel.... as you alone thrill me with your amazing intelligence Mister eco immo ..... from very Bongo bongo...")
Anyway one desk of the People of The Book office now running to Miss, or more likely Mister in that sexist pigtrough, and telling tales about hurty words of the next desk doing the same scam.... ...
i just LOVE The Sunday Programme... as it's some - just a little, of my most serene sublime homework... usually.
