The New Age was something we had been told we aught to take a stand against, but in time I found myself standing alone. A churchman had died who had only just reached the official age of adulthood, which death was considered perfectly normal once it had been ascertained that he was not following the doctor's orders to the letter, and that he had some pre-existing condition that only doctors need worry about. I can say that he was the most honest man I've known--fathers needn't apply.
Having a modicum of experience of how people can work on our feelings to the degree that our degree falls by the wayside, I could not help reflecting back on Simon, and wondering if maybe, by the smallest chance, he had given away what can't be reclaimed. Sometimes it isn't all in the mind. Remedies that have worked before might become distasteful to succeeding generations. If we know what money is good for, we might think that what's bad about it is easily identifiable.
Finding myself stranded in a town on the Sabbath, for spending my money in a way which receives criticism for polluting the environment, and finding that none in the town would come to my aid, I began to live for the having of sweet dreams. Pleasant dreams are those in which we chat with old friends whom we trust. Having written about trust when my association with the church referred to was a thing of the past, I found it necessary to revise what I said. But a question of 'who's the father?' remains, which puts paid to our search for perfection.
Ignorance is bliss.
I'm not about to pollute the environment with what I might say to a friend in my dreams, nor show a chink in the armour when we know that trust starts at home, and therefore we trust our friends to be on the offensive, no less than we are, about family. The nineteen-eighties stands erect and proud, for the columns that strive to take us there only reach their end, after failing to achieve it.
Let's talk about text, baby!
Lettering, believe it or not, precedes the nineteen eighties. The fact that some letters are wider than others was not something that was a close-kept secret before we learnt to say, 'what you see is what you get.' But on the other side of the nineteen eighties, letters that were so much (way) cooler than school that school changed its syllabus thereabouts, were every bit as important as what was written. Before the nineteen seventies were the nineteen sixties; before the nineteen sixties were the nineteen fifties; and before the nineteen thirties was the nineteen twenties. Did I miss something out or is everyone up to speed with how best we keep from having to have slave drivers to get us out of bed in the morning?
Reviving my old website was simply a matter of attempting to weld things together--though I do like the approach in which the structure is every bit as important as the look. I came to think I needed to learn to weld: I had started a welding job--in my safety-first, think-of-the-children way--the completion of which eluded me.
Before the completion of this eludes me, I look at the far right, say a prayer, and try to forget the meaning of the word, unfinished.