An Elephant of One's Own

" The idea of Europe is in peril. " Really? That surprises me. Evidence? " From all sides there are criticisms, insults and desertions from the cause." OK. If I understand you right, you are defending a Europe, or "an idea of Europe" in which "criticisms" and "insults" cannot be tolerated. Or - let's break down the process - in which initially mild "criticisms" are loftily ignored by a bureaucratic elite, to a point where frustration builds up and "insults" begin to be heard.  And then, when even these are ignored, or are responded to with further "insults", you affect to be surprised that "desertions" begin to take place. Is that it? “Enough of ‘building Europe’!” is the cry." Wait a moment. You said that the idea of Europe is in peril. Which idea, precisely, do you mean? I ask because the notion of Europe as a continent has been in circulation at least since Herodotus, and was...

There's Sprog's homework to "help with", i.e. to do. (I live in a "Homework Culture" a sinister nationwide conspiracy to enable people to do each others' homework with impunity). But I can hardly move a limb. I am sprawled on a torn leather sofa, with stuffing bursting out of the tears, one foot hooked over the staircase railing, the other floorbound, arms thrown backwards from the angular corners of a stretched ribcage, trying to gulp in the extra oxygen I would need to reverse the sleepward drift. "Wait," I say. "Wait..." The way of dying I seem to have chosen does not leave any room for dignity. As things go, I will wheeze more, struggle more, swear more as I fail to negotiate obstacles with my grotesque bunions and failing coordination. I will forget more and more of my eminently forgettable life, finally forgetting how and why I came to be here, in this strange place, surrounded by strange people to whom I am a defective mod co...

Older incarnations of this blog had songs pulled from YT as a regular feature (one day I might even get round to tagging them). Sometimes there'd be brief commentary, most times not. This morning I had the idea of using this space to annotate some more music, in the hope that my favourite elusive mythical beast, the Actual Blog Visitor, might discover something they liked. Seems a harmless enough activity for a Sunday night. Seems a common way to go, even. "Row Jimmy" appeared on the Grateful Dead's Wake of the Flood album, which along with various other Dead albums, and a smattering of prog and Motown soul, provided much of the backing track to a goodly chunk of my unspent, bedroom-bound, lightly sozzled adolescence. Forty-odd years later, I still like both the song and the album. At that time, the meaning and reference of the lyrics of Row Jimmy seemed fairly obvious to me, apart from the cryptic middle 8. Since then, courtesy the Internet, I've discov...

Not quite a microcuento but still: "So you say you have proof that I agreed to have five dollars deducted monthly from my account for this hokey insurance deal?" "We do. We have a recording of your voice agreeing to this, over the telephone." "You recorded my voice on the phone?" " Yes, we did . One of our agents phoned you and sold you our insurance package. Don't you remember?" " In other words, you recorded my voice saying 'yes' to an unrelated question, then spliced that with a separate recording of an operative asking me if I wanted to pay five dollars ." The aggrieved customer (whom we shall call Pussy Cinderwell, although her real name is not this, in fact being a fictional character she doesn't have a real name) paused for a moment, fiddling with her cellphone during the ensuing polite silence. "Well, can I hear the recording?" "Certainly, Miss Cinderwell. Just one moment." Mr Smug...