Rescued from oblivion today I’ve been glad of the chance to edit some of Ghetufool’s work lately. Writing is something I’m driven to by an impulse that won’t be denied. So what to do when writer’s block strikes? Turn to religion, I suppose, as people do when they feel vulnerable and melancholy. A fellow-blogger* distinguishes… Continue reading Unblocking
Category: writing
A Cowardly Idle Fool
This post was rescued from perpetual-lab.blogspot.com as made available on the Internet Archive, 13 years after it was written What is this life, if full of care, We have no time to stand and stare? (W. H Davies, “Leisure”.) Go to the ant, thou sluggard. Consider her ways and be wise. (Proverbs 6:6) I’ve gone… Continue reading A Cowardly Idle Fool
The Charabanc of Trippers
previously published 13th May 2014 on Perpetual-Lab, somehow lost in transit I didn’t explain what happened to the book Wayfaring, which was briefly published under Creative Commons in pdf, before being withdrawn from free distribution. I feel no compulsion to give a reason, but here are two. (a) Uncertainty (b) a decision to postpone publication… Continue reading The Charabanc of Trippers
Joy without a cause
I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher. Night shall be thrice night over you, And heaven an iron cope. Do you have joy without a cause, Yea, faith without a hope Inspired by G.K. Chesterton's Ballad of the… Continue reading Joy without a cause
While Unsleeping
A kind of liberation ensues when you accept the situation, displeasing as it may be, that you find yourself in at this moment. For example insomnia & remembrance of past mistakes—to name but one. For me, they are synonymous. Liberation is an art, the act of turning something round the other way. To embrace the… Continue reading While Unsleeping
The Steps
From Bryan White So how did I get here? And what do I do now? There's a point when your kids are still little. They're little, but they're not babies anymore. They're starting to need their space. You're not just a young couple with a baby; you've officially reached that turning point where you're a… Continue reading The Steps
An open letter to the person complaining . . .
A post from Bryan White Dear Sir or Madame, or however you're supposed to formally address the fragile star children from the planet Zir who have recently come to walk among us I saw a comment you left somewhere the other day, saying that you "can't stand" when people start sentences (or maybe it was… Continue reading An open letter to the person complaining . . .
Carbon Footprint
From Bryan White In my last post, I gave a few examples of song lyrics that I claimed "created a piece of common ground." For the sake of giving a more complete picture, I figured that I should also try to give an example of poetry or lyrics that, in my opinion, fail in this… Continue reading Carbon Footprint
The Poetic
From Bryan White For a long time, I was divided between two possible directions that I wanted go with my writing. On the one hand, I felt like I wanted to write something "intellectual" for lack of a better word, something that was like a complicated machine with all kinds of ideas and moving parts,… Continue reading The Poetic
Rooted here
I've never been constrained by any sense of what this site is supposed to be about. It's always arisen from the urge to write a post, in the context of this moment in space and time. The topics have been innumerable, but after all these years I've realized there's no need to index them, when… Continue reading Rooted here
Jotted psalm
We cannot own love, only glimpse, feel it touch us, pass through, dwell in us. We are more or less feeble receivers, picking up signals from an unnown transmitter. Science is a petty thing before love, for it wants to know, grasp, possess, dismantle to fragments harness, claim, proclaim. Yet science is a thing: wonderful,… Continue reading Jotted psalm
Adaptation
I wasted some time crafting a graphic: a virtual keyboard for mouse or touch-screen, fingertip-ready for the curious adventurer. The idea was to provide a console, like an array of organ-stops—or a dashboard, in current IT jargon. In this way, I would offer the reader the choice of themes running through this blog like the… Continue reading Adaptation
The Exchange of Gifts
As Dr Johnson put it: Depend upon it, Sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully. Even a personal health scare, when you don’t really know what’s going on, does concentrate the mind to an extent, till you decide that it’s going to be all… Continue reading The Exchange of Gifts
finnegans wake on the desborough road
with the sun shines on all of desborough road you could say heaven smiles the chillier the climate the more i like the sun on my back if i were in jamaica or malaysia now the sun could be cruel only the shade would be merciful so why do the english like jamaica for its… Continue reading finnegans wake on the desborough road
The Cycle of Imperfection
For months I’ve been working—which means mainly procrastinating—on a new book. Instead of me boring you with an essay on its structure, you can download a sample. Initially I titled it A Cycle of Days, reflecting the way that it reflects the changing months and seasons across the years. It’s been quite a slog. I… Continue reading The Cycle of Imperfection
The Nature of the I
The “I” is easily defined. It is what I mean when I say “I”. There is no confusion about it, no argument as to whether this “I” is real. René Descartes nailed it: cogito, ergo sum. Such simplicity has been wrecked by the introduction of “ego”, a weasel word so tricky as to defy all… Continue reading The Nature of the I
Indefinite Sabbatical
Undeterred by the sign, I had my first and last kangaroo-burger here, on May 23rd 2012, somewhere in Amsterdam, near a canal.This blog has been going nearly ten years now. Why? Occupational therapy, mania, addiction? May the world judge. It’s time to take a rest, of uncertain duration. There are other things to explore, other… Continue reading Indefinite Sabbatical
Fingers and Moon
I was dumbfounded: confounded and struck dumb at the same time. It was a congenial place to be, I discovered, being content to stay there a while, sheltered in the dignity and grace of not knowing, that is, shedding false knowledge. . . . But now I find myself wanting to speak, for which I… Continue reading Fingers and Moon
Jua Kali
Jua Kali is Swahili for 'the hot sun' referring to artisans and vendors who work outside. On our dining room wall we've hung a batik picture of Kikuyu tribesmen, bought from an ethnic shop in Edinburgh, like the other things displayed in these photos It’s spring here, and that creates a fruitful restlessness in me,… Continue reading Jua Kali
Why did the R101 Crash?
I mentioned in the comments section of my last that scientists these days are dependent on research funding, academic tenure etc., so they may feel constrained in what they can say or do; whereas in the nineteenth century and earlier, scientists could speculate fearlessly. Agreeing with this, Natalie suggested that some ideas derided by orthodoxy… Continue reading Why did the R101 Crash?
32 Answers
A correspondent thought that the final paragraphs of Wayfaring (a planned book) ought to have more impact. I could see how they might be viewed that way, and tried to do something about it. Perhaps by appending an Afterword? It didn’t feel right to write anything new. I thought of asking the question “What is wayfaring?”… Continue reading 32 Answers
The printing-factory
I wonder why, out of the mass of all we forget, some inconsequential things stick in our minds. Perhaps they chime with our destiny, that elusive future no one can see till it arrives. And when it does, perhaps something from our rag-bag of memories may “ring a bell”, as if it had been foreshadowed.… Continue reading The printing-factory
The King James Version
In my last I said “I hope to return to this theme in another post”. I had mentioned the Bible, in the King James Version completed in 1611. In its time and for several centuries it was Holy Writ, an authority not to be questioned by its readers, till developments in science, evolutionary theory and… Continue reading The King James Version
Ellie Clayton on William Blake
In 2021, Ellie Clayton wrote a series of pithy paradoxical observations, on the lines of Blake's Proverbs of Heaven and Hell. She published them on a blog Divine Economy. I was inspired to format them into a printable document: you can download it here.
To my literary agent
Previously published on Blogger. transferred to rochereau.uk for the first time Dear — If I knew your name, I wouldn’t be writing like this to you, in public. But we haven’t yet met. We’re still two lonely hearts, so to speak, seeking one another. I did write to an agent last year: one whose web… Continue reading To my literary agent
Meeting Ghetu
We’ve never met face to face, but our first cyber-encounter was on 13th October 2006. You may think cyber-friendship is an impoverished thing, but for us literary types it has the special advantage of being completely self-documenting, like the legendary Akashic Records. That day, I stumbled on his blog “i am useless”, and I’ve reproduced… Continue reading Meeting Ghetu
Inside Out
previously published only on Blogger Where is it, this book I long thought I would write some day, when I had the time? I have had that time in the last seven years, almost limitless in its horizon, though doled out in surprisingly small quantities each day. I used some of it to write this… Continue reading Inside Out
From Handwriting to Eternity
As an art form, the blog has extraordinary possibilities. It’s a “magic theatre: entrance not for everybody”. Anybody may come and peek, but those for whom it’s not intended will swiftly move on. This theatre’s producer—I mean the blog author—may put on a new show every day, or hardly ever. In the public imagination the… Continue reading From Handwriting to Eternity
Elemental
I scribble ideas aimlessly, nothing wrong with that. But then I fall under the spell of supposing this will generate “creative writing”, whatever that may be; something from which value can be directly harvested. It’s better to think of it as rotten fruit, to be cast out and forgotten. Some time later we may discover… Continue reading Elemental
The magic fence
It’s been raining every day for weeks. Catching a cold gave me an additional reason to stay indoors, but the other morning, in the bright lull after a heavy downpour, I ventured out for a couple of errands, taking the usual shortcut to the shops on Ledborough Road, through the derelict school yard and the… Continue reading The magic fence
Preface to a book
I still haven’t given up on “the book of the blog”. When I do, this place can become “the blog of the book”, but don’t worry, it will be the same blog, going off in the same haphazard directions. In December last, I dashed off a Preface followed by a Preface Mark II", both of… Continue reading Preface to a book
Hitching to Heaven
There are things in my past I prefer not to revisit, as mentioned in comments on the previous post. ‘Cult’ comes from the Latin cultus, worship. In certain contexts it refers to “a relatively small group of people having religious beliefs or practices regarded by others as strange or sinister”. I was involved with a cult… Continue reading Hitching to Heaven
Homer’s Odyssey
It matters a lot which translation of a book you read. I confess to being super-fussy about these things. I hear a piano concerto or symphony, for example, and compare it unfavourably with one which impinged on my consciousness years ago, perhaps in my teens. (You’ll have to trust me on this. It’s the impinging,… Continue reading Homer’s Odyssey
Dreaming spires
Oxford is everything that my own town is not, and it’s only 30 miles away. I decided Park and Ride was the best way to enter in triumph, using my new electronic bus pass, on a superb day in June, discovering that the students are in exams and the streets are a motley of tourists.… Continue reading Dreaming spires
Possessed by a god
Suppose I took it on myself to explain what a blog is, to someone who’d never encountered the idea. How would I go about it? Is there a common root to which all blogs are connected? I’m not thinking so much of topics, which are clearly as diverse as the authors themselves. But I wonder… Continue reading Possessed by a god
Your diary
By way of distraction from the mind-blowing world of Friedrich Nietzsche, I’ve been adding new functions to the diary mentioned in an earlier post. We live in a world where new technology must sometimes struggle to compete with the tried-and-tested. I’m very fond of fountain-pens. It is easy to be sentimentally attached to the flow… Continue reading Your diary
Not trying too hard
I left the car at The Fox and Hounds in Christmas Common, and made my way down Hollandridge Lane, which has never been more than a cart-track, but offers glorious vistas on a perfect spring day. Not a farmhouse in sight, not a fellow-wayfarer or dog-walker, not even a sheep till I reached Pishill, and… Continue reading Not trying too hard
Books
I haven’t been writing because I’ve been reading so much. One book leads to another and the Kindle Reader has a lot to answer for. Snuggled in bed late at night, cradling the thing in its handsome leather case and its own light just bright enough to illuminate the page of black and white e-inks,… Continue reading Books
Soul of an animal
The soul is feminine, I mean passive. It initiates nothing, does nothing but feel. It seems helpless to assert itself against will and intellect; like a slug on the sidewalk after rain, defenceless against accidental or deliberate squashing by human feet; or like a majestic brooding silence, the silence of a wilderness, defeated by the… Continue reading Soul of an animal
Preface
Intended as preface to a book I was planning in December, 2010 The soul is feminine, I mean passive. It does nothing but feel. Will and intellect are the masculine elements, delighting in action and creativity for their own sakes. In young men is a naturally warlike instinct: to fight, regardless of the cause espoused,… Continue reading Preface
Hell! said the Duchess
Hayden commented on my last with some excellent remarks on how to start a story, including the following: I love broadness and specificity in a beginning. A sense of mystery that isn't addressed by the ample facts stated. The facts situate the event in a time and space, anchor it if you will. The mystery,… Continue reading Hell! said the Duchess
The secret life of strangers
How is it possible to remember a moment when nothing actually happened? I don’t know, but such moments are the ones I remember most vividly. There were some major works being done on the railway line which affected the bridge above, in the middle of the village’s main street. In consequence, traffic on the bridge… Continue reading The secret life of strangers
Gerrards Cross
My wanderings usually take me through wild footpaths and unpretentious housing estates. I’ve had no occasion to visit the village of Gerrards Cross, which “has a reputation for being very upmarket and exclusive, with house prices being considerably higher than average. Located in the commuter belt of London, the village is the most expensive postcode… Continue reading Gerrards Cross
Everything but the Kitchen Sink
I do feel the urge to philosophize, if only the Muse will allow. She says I must not try the patience of my readers. Oh well, here goes, I’ll start with a sweeping generalisation: “Religion is about perfection, while science and engineering are about trial and error.” Before you have the chance to say “I… Continue reading Everything but the Kitchen Sink
Blue Sea
It’s nearly three weeks since I last posted here, but it seems much longer. Have I been too busy? No. Has there been a lack of interesting things to write about? No. Have I been too lazy? No. I’ve drafted stuff every day on voice recorder, in my black notebook, in Word documents, or (best… Continue reading Blue Sea
To a nephew
Afam is my nephew by marriage, nearly 15, and goes to a good school where good money must be paid for the education provided. So I was asking him about that, and he told me his vocabulary had become somewhat depleted. He didn’t actually use the word “depleted”.. He explained that in earlier years he… Continue reading To a nephew
The Pocket Diarist
The postman left a package which felt like a small book. Not expecting any such thing, I was delighted; then opened it, and was Deloitted. Deloitte Touche is the current incarnation of a company I left in 1985, known then as Touche Ross & Co, Accountants. I was in their management consultancy, but now I’m… Continue reading The Pocket Diarist
Unto the hills
“When I was someone else, that I am not now ...” continued. Let us assume that each one of us contains multiple personalities. Vincent exists in the written word, is not quite the same as his author, who inhabits other dimensions never written down. Vincent is several persons, separated by time-slices, spliced together into fragments… Continue reading Unto the hills
The mysterious impulse
"It would be idle to inquire why Mr Razumov has left this record behind him. It is inconceivable that he should have wished any human eye to see it. A mysterious impulse of human nature comes into play here. Putting aside Samuel Pepys, who has forced in this way the door of immortality, [we observe… Continue reading The mysterious impulse
The senses
I ask myself why I don’t write here more often. Since January 2008, I’ve wanted to post something daily. What prevents? The biggest obstacle is some self-imposed rules, very constraining ones, so that however much I scribble, little emerges to see the light of day. The most important rule is to write from some kind… Continue reading The senses
Art, not Nature
It was increasing impatience with (or even revulsion from) woolly Romanticism which led in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries to movements in art and literature where form and colour were pursued as if for their own sakes, to create new worlds of experience, which in a sense parted company with Nature. The nature of a… Continue reading Art, not Nature
The Muse is a Jealous Mistress
I hold the art of writing in too high regard to dare call myself writer. I think I shall change my Profile: occupation Gentleman. Writing, like any pastime fit for this kind of person and the female equivalent, is an arena of infinite striving, especially when, as in my case, its only object is to… Continue reading The Muse is a Jealous Mistress
The Long Journey to Now
I’m walking through Hughenden Park, pondering the suitcase of old photos, wondering what I can tell and what I cannot. There is no point in showing the emotive or personal ones because it will be impossible to share the feelings they evoke without a volume of history and explanation. I have picked out two whose… Continue reading The Long Journey to Now
Blazing a trail
In these pieces I have a consistent aim, like a would-be acrobat endlessly repeating the same manoeuvre, aiming at perfect execution, to demonstrate something to the audience, using his entire body and soul in the demonstration, so that the slightest distraction such as a thought or an itch somewhere on his skin would affect the… Continue reading Blazing a trail
Religion in Public Life
It’s apparent from the Web that in America religion is as much an irritant on the public consciousness as politics. I mean, you get bitten by the media and you can’t help scratching all the time. So the agenda is stolen. I don’t want to react to the state of religion in America or in… Continue reading Religion in Public Life
Quotes from Hank Bukowski
On Adversity & Resilience "What matters most is how well you walk through the fire". "Things get bad for all of us, almost continually, and what we do under the constant stress reveals who/what we are". "Nobody can save you but yourself, and you're worth saving". "Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives… Continue reading Quotes from Hank Bukowski
Writing Instrument
We think we know somebody. They think they know us. It’s nice because we can always be surprised. My son takes present-buying seriously. He went to a hippy shop and toyed with getting me a piece of angel merchandise or a Native American dream-catcher; but fortunately thought better. I received a hastily-wrapped book and opened… Continue reading Writing Instrument
Altering the past
Heavy rain outside the house at sunset A friend points out that the reason I am not getting many comments here is that I don’t reply to many of them. I appreciate them all and am excited to receive them. They are helpful and encouraging. What’s my excuse for not responding lately? Well, the impact… Continue reading Altering the past
Privacy, Fearlessness
Rediscovered from a copy of perpetual-lab.blogspot.com, now defunct Privacy, July 25th 2007 The essence of a blog, or so I’ve thought till now, is to speak openly to the entire world. Just as in a book, except that using book technology someone pays to enter the world within the covers. So why have I suddenly… Continue reading Privacy, Fearlessness
More from the Reading Without Tears blog
Monday 2 July 2007 Stringing words together Twenty-five years ago, I bought The Art of Writing, a volume in the "Made Simple" series. It had been written ten years earlier and has an out-of-date feel now. So what? I feel out-of tune with the age too. Browsing through it again recently, I discovered many shortfalls, the… Continue reading More from the Reading Without Tears blog
The Burden of Gold
Anando was a favourite name of Ghetu's in his stories, many of which were based on his real life. I’d told Anando I might reconsider writing a book, but didn’t know how to go about it. He’s himself a writer of promise, burdened with talents yet to be uncovered for the world to see. We… Continue reading The Burden of Gold
Profane influence
A reader of this blog and heaven-sent friend [Ghetu!], whose anonymity I shall defend to my last breath, unless he declares himself of his own accord, complains to me thus: I have decided to stop reading your blog. It has such a profane influence on me that I have stopped thinking in the way I… Continue reading Profane influence
One thought fills immensity*
Every thought could fill a book. It’s the middle of the night now. My dream was so powerful and enigmatic that it woke me up marvelling. I was having a reunion with my first wife. We were laughing. Her face was radiant. We were very good friends. Why did we ever split up? Why did… Continue reading One thought fills immensity*
Mill Park
There have not been many pictures decorating this blog lately. I almost feel like renouncing photography as a means of trying to capture the world’s beauty, because it cannot reproduce the glowing mysterious surfaces that I see. I have recently renounced being a therapist * What a liberation! On one hand, it was a vehicle… Continue reading Mill Park
Divine Anarchy
I want to speak theologically, to say what I think about God and angels. But then, it’s a bit hard putting abstractions into words. No, that’s completely wrong. It is all too easy to put abstractions into words, and give them an imaginary reality. So I’m rather glad to find myself talking about bees and… Continue reading Divine Anarchy
Like wildfire
I woke in the night and fell victim to a train of thought, so insistent in its claim to significance that the only way to shut it off was turn on a bedside light and scribble some words in my notebook, raw and unpolished. It did the trick, I returned to slumber and then in… Continue reading Like wildfire
Abundance
Today, it’s the privilege of many, but not all, to adopt whatever beliefs and practices we wish, and we have the internet to provide us with the texts and the fellow-pilgrims. It’s an odd contrast with the Europe of 500 years ago, which I sketched in my last. Then, it was your town or village… Continue reading Abundance
Punishment or happiness
“Motivation is a major problem and one of the factors for people failing to meet their goals in life. So what do you do to get motivated?” I saw this question, with ensuing discussion, in a social media forum that I knew quite well (Ecademy, now defunct) Other participants didn't find it at all strange.… Continue reading Punishment or happiness
View from the Hill
I thought I might develop my "best", i.e. most "serious" ideas into a book. But as I'm addicted to blogging, I'd continue to use this space as often as possible, cultivating a wry, self-deprecating manner: for the interaction, for the moral support, a boost to a flagging confidence. The words for my writing, the best… Continue reading View from the Hill
From a nest of terrorists
High Wycombe is no different now that it has been exposed as the home of several “monsters of evil”, who wanted to “commit mass murder on an unimaginable scale”. It’s still a place where races and religions work seamlessly together. Good neighbourliness is the norm. This morning my car’s battery ran down again. So I… Continue reading From a nest of terrorists
Zorba the Greek
I’m glad not to have yet seen the film of Zorba the Greek, for it is the book which speaks to me, as I savour a few pages for the first time each day. The film must be full of colour and atmosphere and dancing and dulcimer-playing, but Kazantzakis in the book covers spiritual search… Continue reading Zorba the Greek
The price of civilisation
While I was living in Jamaica, I managed to help earn a few pennies by typing and editing literary and academic texts. One such was a student’s philosophy dissertation. She was not an agile writer or an original thinker but she did put together some others’ work in a coherent way, to the effect that… Continue reading The price of civilisation
a wayfarer’s notes 