Monday, 12 January 2009

Doing the Face Book Stomp

A fairly normal morning. The chickens have somehow got out of their run and are clustered behind my shoulder on the windowsill outside, muttering and clucking and watching what I write.
Una the dog has eaten all Murphy the cat´s food again.
It is cold and grey.
But, ¡Holin! When I boot up the mighty Wurlizter, I find 20 messages in my email about people becoming friends and poking me on my facebook wall, or suchlike gibberish. This is disturbing for a geezer, causing a little-known medical condition known as "puzzlement."
¿What do I do? (I figure if I have two question marks, I ought to use them) I shall wait and see. I blame Rebekah, now a new friend.


What most persons consider as virtue, after the age of 40 is simply a loss of energy.


The More Loving One
by W. H. Auden

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

1 comment:

Gary White said...

Puzzlement is just a precondition to delight. Keep on blogging!