Brilliant Book


Hope you don’t get put off by the title, the asterisks, are part of the title.

“the way of f**k it,small book  big wisdom”

authors  John  C  Parkin  and Gaia Polloni


Loaves fishes and miracles-searching for my dad – part one

Loaves fishes and miracles-searching for my dad – part one
A week ago I went into a church I last went into when I was eleven years old; it’s a long long time ago. Ghosts is not the word. It was always a place that leaves me with a smile. The plan was to commemorate my aunt at the time the funeral was taking place. Chose that church because it had good memories.
Walking in, felt so small, guess last time I walked in I was just that bit shorter, still as beautifull, still as calming. Sat in a pew. Felt as if there was only really one place to sit ???.
After a few minutes the Ghosts began to surround me, subtle pressure at first, then squeezing me tighter and tighter, getting in to my heart, getting into my brain. I thought I would try and look around, look at all those nooks and crannies, that as a child I wouldn’t be allowed to look at. Took my mind away for a few inches.
Beautiful stone pulpit, with sculptures of stone flowers underneath. Some of those flowers wearing away felt a twinge of gulit, remembering caressing those flowers all those years ago.
Looked at a plaque showed the name of the son of the man who had abused me, felt like my legs disappeared beneath me, mind swirling. Suddenly wanting to shout out for my dad.
My abusers son had NOTHING to do with the abuse; he had died many many years before that in the Second World War. It was the name; I knew his name was on the war memorial in town.
Just wasn’t ready to see that surname. I think a few hundred boxes of memories; bad memories burst open like a vein bursting open and haemorrhaging life.
This last week I’ve been haemorrhaging life. Struggling to hang on to life and just even breathing has been a challenge. My feeling I can’t live anymore has been there so strongly. Guess I’m on the edge. I think I’ve got one foot firmly planted on the edge, toes curled tightly on the edge. The other foot has a miniscule turn outwards, towards the side. My big toe is on the edge, the other toes are turned outwards by about forty degrees.
Guess my mind is working, so I am thinking, but not sure I can keep on and keep on. Need respite and if it’s there its hiding well in its invisibility cloak.

loneliness of the single eater

 The loneliness of the single eater
Eating in silence, no book, no TV, no radio, just the sound of external world, distant slushy sound of cars on wet road, rumbling freight train .How diff is the food. I have rice , chickpeas and leeks ,splashed with soy sauce, with dollop of hot
salsa. I can taste the contrast of the intensity of the chickpeas, lightness and kind of squeakiness of leek. Trying small amount in my mouth, feels strange, almost cant taste it. Larger amount ,I can taste it, feels better. Not sure about eating and nothing else. Feels so horribly isolating ,so very very alone.
Managed 10 mins between main meal and bingee stuff.
Cramming in left  over christmas sweet stuff. Its horrible, popcorn covered in a cinnamon white choc,greasy,mega sweet, but I continue to eat,prob about 100 gram, leaving utterly disgusting greasy feeling all over my mouth. Such contrast to fresh ish mouth feeling after main meal.
Food is such a social activity.
If I didn’t binge i would implode. Feels like such a certainty. There are very few people i can eat with. They are the few people who I can be ME with.