Silks and floorboards

Playhouse Creatures was such a good play last evening at Chichester Theatre on the Fly. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Well acted I thought and humorous, it was great production on many levels for me. The history of women on stage, the start for Nell Gwynn, the natural comedy and the tragedy. The stage life and poverty at those times. And so on. All in a very minimal stage setting of the temporary stage built for this period in Chichester. It's such a vibrant City for creative culture. I like that. Lucky M being close by all of it and making good use of it. I'm sure I could make better use of the cultural events occurring locally. The thing is I live and work in different areas. And I'm always going off elsewhere. London for example.
London was busy, busy, busy yesterday.
Anyway back to what Playhouse Creatures has aroused in me this morning. A desire to know about the first female actresses and the story of Nell Gwynn. I'm glad to be inquisitive. As it has put a little into perspective for me of what were dribs and drabs of information. Suddenly it's more in perspective when there is something like this to hang it on and have my interest titillated.
So the play featured 5 women on a very bare set. A man, who remained with his back to us the entire show, was in costume, his only job was to change the scenery. This was on full show. The stage set up so that we could see all of the workings other than behind stage. Although the play involved us seeing them on stage and behind stage. But not the reality of behind this stage we were watching. I liked these layers. So they were acting about acting as well.
A really good and clever interpretation by the art director Michael Oakley. I applaud him.
April de Angelis was the author.
"April De Angelis (born c.1960) is a British dramatist of part Sicilian descent. She is a graduate of Sussex University who trained at East 15 Acting School.

De Angelis began her career in the 1980s as an actress with the Monstrous Regiment theatre company but in 1987 her play Breathless was a prize winner at the 1987 Second Wave Young Women's Writing Festival.

Her plays often feature historical figures. Playhouse Creatures and A Laughing Matter are set in the London theatrical milieu of the 17th and 18th centuries respectively. Wanderlustexamines Victorian colonialism and Ironmistress is a verse play exploring Lady Charlotte Guest's factory ownership.

As a librettist, De Angelis contributed to the opera The Silent Twins (2007), composed by Errollyn Wallen, which is based on the case of June and Jennifer Gibbons.

De Angelis tends to write to commission and several of her plays have been produced by Max Stafford-Clark's Out of Joint theatre company." (Wikipedia, 2012)

I wonder how much influence she had over the way it was directed and produced. And how much autonomy does a director have when staging their own production? Do they buy the play and then have a degree of freedom? How much does the stage itself dictate what is possible?

This Theatre on the Fly is such a good idea I think. I like the way the cultural lifestyle is so much part of Chichester. And I am delighted that M seeks these things out and invites me along. I can feel jealous that she does seem to find things and that I don't. I feel as if I'm not really the creative culture vulture just a hanger on. The reality is that I've always had an interest and been along to things but never really gone below the surface as I do now. And I am very grateful that there are people that introduce me to things. JB to film, AB (and since, others that I've met) to art, JB and others to music, mum and others to theatre and musicals, PD to opera, SH to photographers and vintage kitch. Writing? Well I've always written in some form or another. I've always wanted to be a writer but my mum told I could never be as I'm not eloquent enough. It's true I suppose, when I read badly written prose it doesn't grip me. I can read books that really entice me into the world and it's a wonderful journey along with them. I would like to have that talent. M is going about seeking it by undertaking her creative writing MA. I'm jealous but also not. I have diversity which means that I am never a master of anything. I have a deep interest in psychology and pursuing that as my career and then have arts and culture outside of that.

It's an interesting thing this feeling of jealousy and the associated thinking patters. I've always felt a fear of missing out on something. Way back from being a little girl I hated going to bed for a fear of missing out on something. Not to mention the scary things upstairs in the darkness and under my bed. The things that could get me if there was so much as a crack in the curtains. Then the witches would be able to see me and if they could see me they could get me. And if I trod on the floor the things under the bed could get me. I would lie in bed barely breathing. Oh and the crack in the slightly open door meant that I could be seen and got. More recently I have associated this with my dad spying on me. There were times when I caught him watching me through the crack in the door when I was in the bath. Or watching my reflection in the mirror from outside through the crack in the curtains. So it was real as well. I do wonder if that was the fear but explained it away as the witches and unknown things under the bed.

This does not deflect though from this fear of missing out. I would not go to the toilet because it would steal time away from what was going on. This became a real problem with proper consequences. But again I think there's something sinister behind it too. Maybe I am imagining that to take away from my irresponsibility. I would soil my pants rather than leave the situation. This is often associated with abuse though too. There are senses of things that happened when I was very young. Things that turn my stomach with fear and disgust but I often wonder if it's me imagining things. Even today after all the therapy in the world. C was quite surprised I think when I said I had been sexually abused. She said she wasn't expecting that. Hmmm just goes to show how practitioners shouldn't practice unless they are really ready to deal with whatever comes up. Thank goodness I have been learning and have supervision. There have been some real incredible things I've been faced with and needed to work through, such as murder, sexual abuse and paedophilia, neglect, deaths, physical abuse, trauma, psychosis, and more. Each time it is something for me to learn and support.

Back to the play. Nell Gwynn was a real tale of rages to riches. After the civil war resulting in the execution of King Charles I, in January 1649, King Charles II came to the throne. Apparently he was a lover of theatre and in 1660 or thereabouts lifted the ban of women being able to act. I suspect that he enjoyed seeing women and it seems to me that women on stage were suddenly an entertainment of the rather risque or naughty side. A more burlesque atmosphere rather than acting taken seriously. Maybe the women were serious an maybe there was appreciation for women playing women's roles. After all Shakespeare wrote great parts for women didn't he? I have often thought of them as great parts. He didn't seem to be a misogynist, more of a romantic I've felt.

King Charles II reign seems to be labelled as  the Restoration period. Capitalised. It's interesting how these periods are given names. Restoration, Renaissance, Pre-Raphaelite, Post-Modernism etc etc. Anyway thank goodness for Charles' Restoration. As women started to come to the forefront in the public eye. Not to forget of course that we had already had Queen Elizabeth I. How more feminist can a country be. And what a force of ingenuity and encouragement for growth was she. An empire was built in her reign.

It seems we know a lot about Nell through Samuel Pepys' writings. Thank goodness for his journals. We draw a lot from his writings I believe. But of course it was one man's views and also a view from a certain amount of space and time - what's that word? It's a common word and has escaped in the gap between my long term memory store and being brought into the consciousness again. Why does that happen to me? It's like something misfires within the memory neuronal connections. I know the word is there. I will have to look through my psychology books for the word.

Pepys details Nell as comical and called her "pretty, witty Nell". So it is easy to see how King Charles, clearly a womaniser, was beguiled by her beauty and wit. So a socialite she became. She took the opportunity. Good for her. Little is certain about Nell's early life. There are lots of claims but nothing solid. records in those days were not accurately kept of course. Not easy to keep tracks of people like it is today. If only information were purely for demographics.

It amused me slightly when talking about the first real psychopath I have known to encounter at work recently and the worry that he may some day do something bad. And then R saying what can be done about this? Well nothing unless we go down the route of the science fiction book by Philip K Dick, Minority Report. I haven't read the book but thought the film was a good story apart from the fact that Tom Cruise was the main part. I couldn't flipping well remember the title of the book although could remember it was by Philip. I would like to read more. There are so many things I'd like to do more of. There just isn't enough time for all the things I want to do. I want to write (and this takes time, lots of it). I want to sketch and that requires time and concentration and courage. I want to go to galleries and theatre and have art lessons including sculpture lessons. I want time with friends socialising and chatting. I want to study psychology. I need to work and want to do my job well and have training, I like to walk and visit places for interest. So many things I want and like and isn't that great that i have all of these interests in me. It never needs to be boring or lonely or obsessing about the bloody boss-lady. There isn't time.

LouLou needs a walk and annoyingly is nudging my laptop. I used to do that to people. Nudge their newspaper thinking it would get their attention and would wonder why they'd get annoyed. This is annoying me as LouLou is doing it an yet I know she needs the walk. OK off we go. Brief but fresh and good to be out there.

OK now I have to drag myself off to get petrol and to get food shopping. If I don't I have no veggies for lunch. I am looking for something different in my food and that's interesting too. My food is great just as it is. I am seeking external inspiration. I am fascinated by the learning I get through interactions and like the way it activates my mind and intrigue. Seeing this play and chatting about things and how the world through time and space all interacts. Nothing stands alone without each other. I marvel at this realisation. How powerful it all is. History is just as much a part of me today as it was back when it was occurring. The influences on people, places and things is invaluable in understanding more about me as an individual, about the community and society and the world as a whole. Marvellous.

More to write about the history of women on the stage when I get back if there's time before my AWOL. 

Oh and about the wonderful FA meeting yesterday

OK Back again. And the best laid plans .... I was intending to get to Lidl. It's the cheapest. But actually I was running out of time. My petrol tank was nearly empty so that was a priority and then I realised I could just get enough for today at Tesco and do the rest before I go for a walk with AB. Bloody hell petrol is £133.9 per litre again. It's crazy. And what a bargain. They must be wrongly priced. But I bought 4 just in case. Paul Newman's balsamic dressing 99p per bottle when usually it's been £1.79. Everything is way beyond my means really. I am eating minimally in some ways but it's more than adequate. And of course I do consider all the chemicals added to growing fresh products. I rarely wash anything though so if I'm consuming poisons I have some input in that. I'd love to be eating fresh veggies from the garden but I won't put in the effort (that would require even more time) and even with my little friends V input nothing has grown.

So yes the first female actresses before I have to go off and AWOL.

Joining the theatre at the age of 14, it seems that Thomas Killigrew took her on and he was linked with King Charles II. Being a pretty girl and and witty girl she clearly caught the King's eye. Lucky her huh. Tow illegitimate children by the King she was wily enough to get them recognised. She certainly had a way with the King it seems. It was open knowledge that she was the King's mistress in the end. It seems that she was too demanding to begin with. Like the play depicts the actresses were really fodder for prostitution. And also as depicted in the play the girls were little more than extra money earners, performing like the dancing bears that were housed in this particular playhouse before them. However, it was a move in the right direction. Women really have had to use every wily way and great strength to fight the force of male power and degradation. We have come up from below the ranks.

I loved these layers that De Angelis has cleverly captured and Michael Oakley has reproduced. De Angelis has captured the points of previous mistresses being paid off and of course the miserly life they had to lead when turfed out if pregnant. Of no more value than the bear that ravaged the master and was then left to die having ripped out every claw and pulled out every tooth. The desperation of the women, the one relying on her good looks and charms being usurped by the younger member and then being useless as an actress because pregnant, of no value. But the one who turned against the theatre director, wanting shares and speaking out, being put in danger through her own supposed beau and keeper being angry and turning against her. Women had to fight hard to have anything like a voice. Nell, on the otherhand, seems to have been far more powerful in her way. She had to yield to the men sense of power to become powerful herself.

Now with all the talk of this book 50 Shades of Grey I find this interesting. I had realised in my position as a salve just how much power I was gaining. I relished being cherished as a slave. I wanted to be a good girl and available for whatever my Master wanted. I was good for a while until he gave me too much room for manoeuvre. Then I wanted more and the more I tried to have the less I got. I lost the power. It was a very interesting power game.

However as I go forward I do not want that inequality. I wanted to be loved for the woman that I am and to be able to love the man. If that can't happen it is my hearts desire not to falter for less or meanness. Please be to God.

However, it is an interesting phenomena that yielding wields power. It's just the manipulation that can then ensue with that yield. It is important for me to acknowledge the weakness I have for sugar and flour and quantity. 

I need to call my AWOL now. Which as always was incredibly helpful. I really have got a better understanding, a real depth of understanding of Step one. It's amazing how this is working. I have listened and listened for years now and read too and even sat around a group as the therapist and never truly understood like I do now.

I have no doubts at all that I am a food addict. And that this addiction is physical, mental and spiritual. I need to find ways of expressing my illness, the disease of addiction because then I can impart my understanding back. I like to assimilate the information but there's often so much I forget what has been said.

I will try and write some notes later. First of all lunch.

You are getting a running commentary of my day. There are so many glorious experiences and thoughts to share though. How on earth can I have enough time to get this all down in writing?

OK so I am over all the excitement of the play last evening. I've talked it out. The Nell Gwynn story, the Restoration, King Charles II, etc. It was a great play and I would recommend seeing it if the chance is presented to you.
There is another play on in London by April De Angelis. Jumpy. I've no idea what it's about but I would be interested in seeing it. I wonder if I can afford it though. Bloody expenditure limitations. There isn't enough money or time to do everything I want to do. But hey isn't it wonderful that I have such a full life?
I think so.
Closer to the time the woman returns to work. I am not looking forward to her craziness. I would hope that her holiday has enabled her to calm right down. I do hope so. She was noisy and nasty before she left. Not a person I choose to be around.
I have to learn a way through this I suppose. Please God guide me. I would like your help please. I don't need anymore of the craziness but hey the lessons are not mine to choose. Over to you God. I know you will be nearby me.

Bliss
XX

Blue is the veil to Heaven

Lapis lazuli from the Arab states arrived in Venice.
Giotto painted Heaven as blue



Titian though was obsesed with blue apparently and he was involved in the liberation of blue that had been controlled by the Church.
Bacchus and Ariadne was restored and it was discovered that it was a painting full of brilliant colours especially blue

Apparently Titian is using blue for fun and liberating it from the shckles of religion. It was only to be used for very religious matters.

18th Century Germany and blue was turned into emotions ...
The romantic age. Delicate sensibilities, wild imaginings, wonderful heroes. Novanis worked on his epic novel. Lucid visions keep the protagonist from sleep. Fantasies led him on a journey across his imagination. He was searching for a small blue flower.
Blue became the colour of the deepest feelings at this time.
Gaugin's sun
Van Gogh Starry Night
Munch Lovers

Picasso - Blue period works
Stories of suicide, despair and the search for redemption.
Oct 1900 at 19 years ols. He decided to leave Spain with his best friend Carlos Casagemos.
They planned to make their name. They went to Paris. They stepped of the train and into the centre of the world - converging artists were there.

Casagemas pulled a gun on his lover. She escaped unscathed but he thought she was dead and he shot himself dead.

Picasso was horrified and struggled to come to terms with the death. he was so bereft he behaved rather strangely. He started taking over his best friends identity. Moving into Casagemas' apartment, sleeping with his girlfiend. He repeatedly painted Casagemas in his coffin.
Scenes of the funeral painted in a blue haze.
A host of blue period paintings which seem to lnk closely with woeing through his grief

In Egyptian history blue represented hell

Yves Klein a Frech painter who never gave up on blue
Not only in blue but about blue - he even invented his own blue
Born in 1928 the son of two bohemian artists.
He became a jickey and danced and studied to be a judo master.
He decided to become an artist.
Single blocks of colour.
Captivated by the colour of the sky.
In Paris he sought the legendary colour make that countless artists had entrusted to prepare their paints.
Eduard Adam - emporium

Falling asleep - off to beddy byes
Bliss
XXXXXXXXXXXX

Yielding

My reply to someone else's thoughts .....

On the other hand - making oneself vulnerable is not about being vulnerable to more harm. That's already done and you are bringing the fear of that into today.
I do think it means taking risks with people and being honest and only then is it possible to get support and find out that your feelings can be heard and held. Of course this means being discerning but it also means taking risks with those people. You will have some degree of knowing that you can trust that person and then it's fear that's standing in your way.
The little I do know about your past suggests to me that you have been deeply wounded and with that comes a deep fear. You may not recognise it as fear, I don't know but that's what I see Valentine. Trust me, there are people who can hold your fear and your anger and your sadness and any other emotion. What they can't hold of course is all the ways and defences you have to protect yourself from those feelings.
You know in Tai Chi they teach that to yield to the forces is actually the strength. In other words Step One is about admitting your weakness i.e. you do not have control. And not just over food.
You do not have control about how other people are and how they have injured you. You do not have control over the emotions that those damaging behaviours have on you. You do not have control over the fact that you're a very sensitive being and you do not have control over the fact that you are an addict. Admitting that weakness is the first step. And looking at the chaos that ensues when you try to control it, manipulate it, avoid it, deny it, hide it, re-shape it etc.
I truly understand the fear of revealing all. I was sexually abused by my father and kept that from everyone and anyone until I was 41 years of age. I spent the time from my childhood when I just thought I was a bad person. There are things I remember that to this day make my whole body contort and cringe, like him rubbing himself against me when I was little and in his bed because I'd had a nightmare. Eeek writing that just makes my throat tighten up and areas of my body recoil. I can remember him touching me inappropriately when  my mum was away travelling on business and at that time I was 13 and knew exactly what was happening.
I thought if I told anyone he would get into trouble. Now isn't that crazy from the outside thinker? But I believed it so entirely that I didn't dare tell anyone and cramped it so deep inside me I forgot about it until I was writing my life story in treatment. Suddenly it burst into the forefront of my mind and I wanted to kill the psychiatrist and therapists that were making this thought appear.
Since then little by little I've had therapy and worked on steps etc and each time a little more openness appears.
You know two years ago I git myself involved in my other addictive behaviour sex and love addiction. I was so ashamed I didn't tell my friends. After all what harm was I doing. But as time went on I became suicidal. I had become seriously involved in a man practising BDSM. I became his slave - and the gory details are even more shaming. And he would travel over from Amsterdam every month. I thought he loved me and I thought I loved him. Even now telling you I feel so ashamed of my desperation to be loved and going to any lengths to get that love. And this wasn't the first time. Alongside my food sex and love addiction has escalated and ebbed and waned. I have been married 3 times. 3 times!! I feel so ashamed of that. And each time it was just to try and get them to love me until I found out that I didn't even like them. Valentine this 50 shades of grey has nothing on what I've experienced in my lie. Of my own making. But all rooted in the illness. I have a mental illness and it manifests as addiction. I think it takes a while to get your head around that one - excuse the pun!!
And also was triggered by events of my childhood - betrayal, violation of spiritual rights, disappointment, lack of full nurturing from a father (my mum was fantastic and I know how lucky I have been to at least have one carer who showed me love) - oh and on and on. Those are not the reasons for me being an addict. Addiction is an illness I was born with and it manifested itself with food at an early age and then sex and love and developed into drinking and drugs and many other behavioural addictions. I just could switch them around at will. Appearance of control you see but never really being abstinent from the disease simply the symptoms changed. But then I have these events in life that triggered my attitude, my beliefs, my emotional responses, my thoughts. All were moulded and fashioned that made it easy for the illness to take it's hold and at a very young age, food and sex being the first ones oh and fantasy. I used to eat sweets at twice the rate of my cousin and then be filled with envy at her saving them which I saw as coveting and teasing me. I ended up learning how to sneak some - stealing. Yuch!
This illness is insidious and tells us we cannot reveal ourselves. Experience has shown us that we need to shut down and look after ourselves because those supposedly doing the job just hurt us. So how can we be expected to trust anyone - everyone important has let us down in some way.
The thing is when people tell you being open and honest is being weak, then they are frightened themselves. I have learnt that no one can actually hurt me unless I let them. So my truth is not something that allows them to hurt me it's the patterns of the past that I carry with me.
As I am getting stronger it really doesn't matter what people think unless I make it matter. So whilst I feel ashamed of just a few of the little things I've share with you here I also know that I am OK. I did those things and things happened to me when I had no control. I could have stopped "using" and now I have so some of those things do not ever have to happen again so long as I stay away from the food and sex and love etc. I create choices.
Sometimes  am tempted - just the other day underlying feelings were going on. I didn't really have a clue what was going on but knew something was because I was thinking of texting this man or that man and then when I got to the supermarket I thought fuck it I'm going to have chocolate. That was then loud enough for me to say "hold on, something is amiss here". I didn't notice there was a problem when thinking about the texting as that felt just like some fun and justified.
what is going on is that I feel terrified of the boss-lady coming back next week. And I felt terrified because I had told management I was terrified and they are hopeless so would not handle that in a discrete manner and then I would be punished by the boss-lady. The reality is I've spoken my truth albeit clumsily and imperfectly. As a result there are things happening which haven't been taken seriously for the past 7 months. It's a miracle.
I didn't have to text these men and I didn't have to eat chocolate,.Thankfully my food recovery is in tact and I am learning enough to know that when I want to eat there are emotions going on. In the past the texts would have been sent and the trouble would have been set in motion even if it didn't happen for several months to the scale I can take things. And I would have eaten the entire supermarket stock of flour and sugar products within a week (probably less with the ferocious emotions going on).
I didn't and it's a miracle. I have been talking to people instead. Not entirely satisfactory because people try to fix or their own situations don't perfectly match my own etc etc etc and none of the talking is taking away the problem so what the hell is this all about can kick in. But I trust the programme.
I am ashamed too to admit that I got filmed by the police a few weeks ago - speeding 36 i managed to brake to in a 30. Then bugger me I got caught again this time 40 something in a 30 and still haven't received the paper work. And then despite really being slow I think I may have been caught slowing to 32. What an idiot I can be - that could be 9 points in a matter of 2 weeks!!!
This repercussions though are also on my mind. I cannot afford the points or the fine. The points will mean my insurance premium goes up next year. A lot! Which adds to already planted shame that 2 years ago I told a lie when buying insurance and since then was refused insurance this means that my silly little car is costing a high premium - that really drains my monthly income. All because I lied.
To you it may not seem much but to me the shame the guilt the embarrassment and the self-hatred just piles on. IN the past the weight would have piled on too. But these days I practise sharing everything including all the anger and hatred for my dad.
You know what from the man I wanted to kill and tried to pretend I was chilled with and serene in front of others because I didn't want them to see how ferocious I can be - I actually have some forgiveness for. I never ever wanted to forgive him. Then I didn't know how to forgive him and sometimes now I forget that I do forgive him. There are new memories every so often which floor me. But I am working on that too.

So V I don't know what made me splurge all of this out.
I think it was the identification with thinking that weakness is a bad thing. Strength is gained by accepting weakness. Power is gained by yielding.
I can take a good look at what the consequences are for not accepting or yielding - and see if I am still happier with those consequences. If I'm cool with them then hey crack on.
But I really wasn't. It was no longer about the blame from the past, I could no longer deny that I was creating my own pain and yet still blaming my dad in each of the subtle or not so subtle ways that i could do that. If he hadn't been so cruel to me ...... etc. And of course I looked for bad men because my dad was bad. Well that could stop if I was ready to make changes and it started with the food and removing other behavioural addictions and substances. Then I had to started realising that other people were better practised at making sure they stayed stop so had to let them help me by taking on the suggestions (often reluctantly) - even though I really didn't want them to have control over me.
I would "balk" at many of the suggestions and still do. I am even beginning to take responsibility for my choices i.e. I decided not to stay home for an AWOL call which meant I risked being kicked off if for any fluke I couldn't make it the following week. Yes this was a risk and of course ultimately that could jeopardise my recovery further down the line. Not to mention missing out on some wonderful wisdom shared amongst the people on the AWOL.
But whatever happens I do not want to pick up on my food because it would be just the start of a return to the hell-hole I have crawled from - grimy, slimy and bleak. And a very very small world really. Moments of hedonism can still play euphorically through my thoughts. I just have to remember a few of the consequences when I want to pick up some sugary stuff or some floury stuff. Please God I never go back there. And how grateful I am for each day of abstinence so far. Not because of the food or the weight or the body image although they are important to me too. But for the freedom of  ind and the living to my principles which even as I go along are developing into the person I have truly wanted to be within my soul. I just didn't hear my soul shouting quietly at me. I am beginning to hear. And I smile as I write that.
Wow thank you V for permitting me to write this. It really has helped me enormously.
I hope you are not offended in any way at all. My experience of you so far is inspiring and you are worthy of more than you give yourself. I'm sure you'll have done some shitty things along the way. Well if you're an addict that's almost guaranteed. I did awful things to people and really am so sorry for that. Thank goodness if I stay clean I can choose not to do those kind of things anymore.
And I'm certain that shitty things have been done to you and that is why you are so fragile. I give you a really big friendly hug - don't worry this isn't sex and love addiction playing out - this is genuine empathy and love for a kin.
Thanks for reading this if you've got this far.

Hopefully see you at FA on Saturday.

Bliss
xx

Intimes

So picking up on the enthusiasm of AW as she talked about Vuillard and Bonnard who according to her were Swiss Interiors painters during the 1900's
I don't think anything could ever beat the Dutch Interiors. But never say never.

Vuillard



Bonnard





So immediately I want to know and know more. Apparently both artists are featured in the National.
I really don't know what to do on Saturday. Tate Modern for the Look Now exhibition. Or whether I go to newly qualified and I also need to replenish my stock as well. He talked about feeling shame.

Bliss
Xx

On Fidelity

On fidelity

I don't ask you to be faithful - you're beautiful, after all -
but just that I be spared the pain of knowing.
I make no stringent demands that you should really be chaste,
but only that you try to cover up.
If a girl can claim to be pure, it's the same as being pure:
it's only admitted vice that makes for scandal.
What madness, to confess by day what's wrapped in night,
and what you've done in secret, openly tell!
The hooker, about to bed some Roman off the street
still locks her door first, keeping out the crowd:
will you yourself then make your sins notorious,
accusing and prosecuting your own crime?
Be wise, and learn at least to imitate chaste girls,
and let me believe you're good, though you are not.
Do what you do, but simply deny you ever did:
there's nothing wrong with public modesty.
There is a proper place for looseness: fill it up
with all voluptuousness, and banish shame;
but when you're done there, then put off all playfulness
and leave your indiscretions in your bed.
There, don't be ashamed to lay your gown aside
and press your thigh against a pressing thigh;
there take and give deep kisses with your crimson lips;
let love contrive a thousand ways of passion;
there let delighted words and moans come ceaselessly,
and make the mattress quiver with playful motion.
But put on with your clothes a face that's all discretion,
and let Shame disavow your shocking deeds.
Trick everyone, trick me: leave me in ignorance;
let me enjoy the life of a happy fool.
Why must I see so often notes received - and sent?
Why must I see two imprints on your bed,
or your hair disarrayed much more than sleep could do?
Why must I notice love bites on your neck?
You all but flaunt your indiscretions in my face.
Think of me, if not of your reputation.
I lose my mind, I die, when you confess you've sinned;
I break out in cold sweat from hand to foot;
I love you then, and hate you - in vain, since I must love you;
I wish then I were dead - and you were too!
I won't investigate or check whatever you try
to hide: I will be thankful to be deceived.
But even if I catch you in the very act
and look on your disgrace with my own eyes,
deny that I have seen what I have clearly seen,
and my eyes will agree with what you claim.
You'll win an easy prize from a man who wants to lose,
only remember to say, 'I didn't do it.'
Since you can gain your victory with one short phrase,
win on account of your judge, if not your case.

- translated from the Latin by Jon Corelis

Ovid

My biggest problem ...

... is when there is no problem.

Another fine day at work. Busy and stressy in it's busy-ness. And I was making a point to S that I had been really busy Friday on my own with lots hanging over today to do. People wanting, wanting, wanting.
A client wants marriage counselling which I don't do. He is so demanding an wanting it all sorted out this minute because he is desperate. But there is too much to do. I could refer him/them to PD. He doesn't do marriage counselling and the clients wife trusted in me apparently. Well let's see. I have arranged a time when he can call me tomorrow.
The great day came when F returned to be HD. S apparently made a few comments to watch out for with our new boss-lady. I hope tomorrow to find the courage to mention my distaste with the behaviour in the office. It's so difficult though as it seems lie telling tales when she is not present but when she is present it becomes a slaughter house. I am not sure how best to handle this situation. God please guide me. When in doubt I guess it's best not to say anything.

AB is really irritating me at the moment. It is impossible to know the truth but it is possible to know it's not the truth that she speaks. And it's not something I am tolerating right at the moment. I wonder why I am feeling so intolerant with her. I think it's mutual too.

JS and I arranged to meet this evening and then when I called she wasn't available. I have an email confirming today. Anyway she was out with her son and that's good. So instead we are meeting tomorrow. AB did have a look on her face when I asked her if it would be OK ....... She would never say no to me directly I guess, instead moan about me behind my back. I know she does this because she moans about other people behind their back to me. I am trying not to do this ever these days. And that's why it doesn't sit comfortably to say anything without L being there tomorrow in supervision.
It just feels wrong.

Anyway this weekend I have had a pleasant weekend really. I didn't get on with my accreditation document. I keep procrastinating and wonder why? But this has left me with a feeling of "what's wrong with me? Am I detached?"
I realised that I don't have too many emotions connected with my dad's wife being ill because I barely know her and what I do know was of her being a bit crazy. I do have resentment that really is misplaced. I need to pray to God to have this removed and I do pray for her to make a full recovery. As my Auntie commented, I could end up looking after my dad after all. Goodness knows how he would deal with the situation if T should die. I am worried about him. The impact of all of this stress is not good for him. I hear his fear through his anger. It no doubt plays on his own sense of mortality. I feel afraid that he will die when there is still so much scope for improving our relationship from my point of view. I don't expect him to change but I am attempting to change.
Scared for selfish reasons? Not entirely I am scared for him being scared. I pray to God that he might find solace in some kind of belief other than himself.
It was good anyway to let myself of the hook of not feeling and even having fleeting thoughts of good. I don;t the person at all. Similarly it was a long, long time since I had spent any time with L, my cousin and equally my Uncle B. So with their passing is a sort of numbness yet feeling sad for the people who are left and their loss. I pray that each of them is with God now and all knowing. Peace at last.

So my story .....
Wow! The realisation that being the eldest of us three, the adopted baby they are talking about must be me. They just won't name names, be specific.
And they stole the baby back? It just seems crazy talk.
Or perhaps they're not telling the whole story and there's another baby that was adopted and stolen back. But what could possibly have happened to them now?

Is this a better first paragraph? And what happens next? I think I'd have to start describing this person narrating.

He's a boy, 16 years old, soon to be 17 on 31st March 1997. That makes him Aries, a born leader and one who takes the initiative in everything he does. Well he's certainly taking the initiative to uncover this partial story that seems to have leaked out.
Born in 1997 his Chinese zodiac sign is the Ox and admirer of power and possession and also stubborn, which is constant issue within the family and causes many arguments with his "Dragon" (Chinese zodiac rather than personality, although he'd say she was a dragon) mother.
He is very close with his "rat" of a father as he often says affectionately.
He's been interested in star signs since a peculiarly young age. He believes that everything in the Universe is connected and therefore everything influences everyone and everyone influences everything. His mother just calls him silly. His father wonders where he gets this from and at such a young age. He often sits and stares at Henry. Why did they ever call him Henry? It didn't seem befitting for one so wise? Or was it psychosis in which case Henry seemed perfect? It was better than Gill anyway. Why did people give girls names to boys. Didn't they think about the bullying at schools?
Right from a little boy he'd been "special", blonde curly hair procured him a special place with every passer-by as real cutey.

So how am I doing? Feedback please she pleaded into the empty room.....

I'm tired now so I'm off to bed. Mighty night

Bliss
XX

The Secret In Their Eyes

Argentina. Retired lawyer Benjamin Esposito (Darìn) visits his old colleague Irene Hastings (Villamil) with a manuscript he has written about ‘the Morales case’, a 1974 rape/murder which has had repercussions ever since. Talking through the mystery, Esposito reveals what he has found out, but also his own long-suppressed feelings.



The Oscar for Best Foreign Language film is often controversial as heavy-hitters are shoved aside for odd, often political choices and heads get scratched all round. Last year, Germany’s The White Ribbon and France’s A Prophet seemed to be neck-and-neck for the top spot, but an unheralded Argentine thriller crept in and walked off with the statuette. Now, we get to see it, and cynicism about the voters of Beverly Hills evaporates because this is as enthralling a piece of cinema as the competition with the added bonus of having a heart. The Secret In Their Eyes feels like a world-class episode of Law & Order, set in a fascist state where bringing a culprit to justice isn’t easy and the government’s notions of right and wrong override petty concerns like who got raped and beaten to death.

It’s a profoundly human story, with a superb lead performace from Ricardo Darìn (the older con-man in Nine Queens) as a dogged yet hangdog investigating lawyer with a lifelong crush on his upper-class boss.


Written and directed by Juan José Campanella, from a novel by Eduardo Sacheri, this is a long, confident film. Its first act sets up a horrible crime, and shows how the hero’s sense of obligation to the victim’s husband (Pablo Rago) — as much for his ability to remain selflessly in love with the idealised dead woman as for any sense of duty — gets him in trouble when he refuses to prosecute two low-class workmen who have been battered into a confession.

A likely culprit is identified, loitering in the dead woman’s family photos, and the trail goes cold until a drunken colleague makes the vital deduction that a killer can change his name more easily than the football team he supports. This sets up a breathtaking, apparent single-take shot which outdoes Brian De Palma: a stadium is seen from above on match night, and the camera moves into the stands, among the throngs, throughout the concrete bowels and out onto the pitch — with the game still playing — as cops close in on the suspect.

The film seems to wrap up its story in mid-point, but there are stunning reversals, one of the scariest (but most understated) lift scenes ever shot, a telling ambiguity, more tragedies and two astonishing endings left...


Cast
Ricardo Darìn
Soledad Villamil
Pablo Rago
Directors
Juan José Campanella

This was given a 5 star. I gave it a 3.75. I realise I need time to reflect on things before making a fuller judgement. I enjoyed the film - a lot. AT times I thought the love element between Esposito and Irene was unnecessary but actually it was the pivot of the film. He knew the look in the eyes because he looked that way himself. Longingly. I'm not sure whether it was necessary for the happy ever after situation between them in the end but it did make me feel happy. All that agony for such an extended period of time and then they finally decide to give it a go. Both with so many years of lack of fulfillment and eventually there is something for them to enjoy. Perhaps it's my own hope that makes that good and yet tedious. It could have been left unsaid maybe.
I liked the speed of the film. It was contantly moving and yet it was slow. here was enough happening to fill the time whilst keeping it slow moving. Not painfully slow but appreciatively slow. Time to linger on points and amble with the events.
HIs obligation as the Empire describes it is more of an obsession without so much compulsivity surrouding it. He was determined. Something about the love really gripped him and kept him entrenched within solving the problem. And then of course the frustration of working with a corrupt system. I think there wasn't much in the way o showing the legal system. I felt confused really by that. I guess the local audience would have a clearer understanding. Actually as I write that they probably don't at all. The regime would keep that sort of thing from public knowledge. It keeps an element of unknown and with that fear which gves power.
What a bloody system this society conjures all in the name of greed.

I'm so tired I need to pop off to bed now. Food is prepared for tomorrow. A phone call to T despite not wanting to. She is very self-willed and I feel sad yet know it all too well. She taked anything I say as being unheard yet actually she simply wants to do it all her own way and yet doesn't want to lose FA at the same time. It's not possible to have both. She needs to ake a decision.
She decided to go away and that truly is self-will and a great example of powerlessness way beyond the food itself. Doing what she wants regardless of recovery. She insisted on going and now is scared.
Somethow I recoil as I think of my parents saying similar things from start to finish.
Crikey! I listened to little and yet hear I am demanding that I'm heard.
I need to listen more to my dad.
I am worried about him an I know I've written that before. I sort of want him back at the ame time as wanting to reject him. My Aunt suggested that I may be looking after him after all. I wonder how that would fit in with Sister N's calling of me.

Gorra go to sleep now.
Goodnight, God Bless ..... (then liste can be quite endless sometimes so I won't start)
Goodnight, see you in the Mooorning.
XXXX