Monthly Archives: August 2011

The 1000th Post

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It’s a lot, really. OK, so some of my previously published posts haven’t been earth shattering but it doesn’t really matter. I got to 1000.

I wanted to do something a bit special for this post. Gail suggested I talk about God. No one else suggested anything.

So, let’s talk about God or, rather, let me talk about God.

The first thing that comes to mind is, why?

I mean, why did we make up God. Of course, there are stories in the Bible about people having a direct relationship with God. If they said such a thing now, we would lock them away.

I believe it’s our need for two things. 1. We need some way of explaining the inexplicable and 2. We need someone to blame/call on when things go bad. We need that feeling that there’s someone more powerful than us who can help us or whose fault it is.

That’s it.

Now, we need a name for him/her. Let’s call him/her God. For that matter, why should it be a him or a her? Why not an ‘it’? Well, we don’t know how to depict an ‘it’. In the olden times, before God became God, humans worshipped gods. The gods could be trees or animals – the things around. When we became sophisticated we made God in our image and someone wrote a book about him where we were the image of him. That was very convenient. It makes us more special than anything else. But he may not be a he or a she or, even, an it. Maybe God, should such a being exist, is nothing comprehensible to us but if that were to be so then he would be too difficult to handle.

So we made him like us. And then, until recently, we made him a him. Now we say he could be a her.

It’s a bit like death. We make up stuff about a heaven and, just so we make sure that all the nasty people we don’t like can’t be with us in this heaven (‘cos they don’t deserve it), we make a hell too. And whilst we’re at it we’ll have a bad guy against God because, well, all the best stories have a good and a bad guy. Let’s call him Satan or the Devil.

And now we have a reason why everyone can’t be nice and perfect. ‘Cos they got in with Satan. So, although we have already given God all powers – we create someone who also has a (nearly) matching power.

The logic problem with that is that, if God is all-powerful, then there can’t be a Satan, can there?

I could stop there, I suppose. Because the problem with all this is that, if you get rid of Satan because of his impossibility to exist (God being all-powerful and all that), then what about the bad people? I mean, if God made us in his (very convenient) image and Satan doesn’t exist, then why the bad people? Or are we saying God can be good AND bad?

Of course, if God is both good and bad and he made us in his image, then we, too, would be good and bad. And that’s not good, is it? Since that gives him ‘whims’ since being bad is not a Christian thing to be.

So, I guess I’m saying we’re stuffed. Since there can’t be a Satan and, since, without Satan, that would make God both good and bad, then all the stuff in the Bible that there is like ‘turn the other cheek’ and ‘love your enemies’ is flawed. And if that bit is flawed and if Satan doesn’t exist then, to be honest, neither does God.

But if God doesn’t exist then neither does heaven. And if heaven doesn’t exist then that’s just too scary because what happens to you when you die? Other than you die, of course. What I meant was, what’s the point?

And the point is not 42.

But, of course, if there is no God, then there isn’t necessarily any point. Why does there have to be a point? Why isn’t there just life? Because we are always striving for something. A goal. If your goal is to get to heaven to be with God, then there is a reason for life and a reason to be good (or try to be). We can’t be ‘goal-less’, can we? Or, can we?

I mean to say, why should we have a goal, even just the one? What if we live everyday like it will be our last day? What if the ‘heaven’ that everyone wants to get to is really just a thought – I mean, a thought by others? What if heaven is really that we shall be remembered?

I.e. heaven is not a ‘place’ (was it ever?), but a memory, by others.

When you’re dead, then you’re dead. Why do we want to live forever? We don’t think that animals do (well, generally, we don’t think that animals do). We think that, when they’re dead, they’re dead. We even eat some of them (or, rather, a lot of them). There are even (or maybe that’s ‘were’?) tribes of cannibals. So, even we are eaten. And then? When there’s nothing left?

We talk about soul. As if it’s real. We even describe it as not being able to be seen. Like the Holy Ghost. It’s the get-out clause of all time. Something that exists but doesn’t.

We laugh at those people who believed in gods. We think they are slightly crazy. But, surely, they are no crazier than us? They believed in things they could not see; tried to make images of these things they couldn’t see – images that were like themselves or things around them; there were gods that couldn’t be seen.

We have a need to have these things that are higher than us, more supreme. We make up stories to ‘fit’ the things that happen, the things that exist.

We do it, too, with science. We ‘prove’ things. We look in incredible detail. We theorise about how it all started. Is this any better? The bible, one great fairy tale, was written to explain about God and the things that had happened. Are science books that different? If we, as a race of beings, survive for another couple of thousand years, are our ancestors going to look back and laugh at our beliefs (both of God and in science), since they have found a better story around which to fit everything?

Don’t get me wrong. I call on ‘him’ in times of strife or worry. I have my beliefs. I have the things that I believe in. They are the things that I’ve picked up over the years that suit me. They are the things that make sense to me. Even if some of them are as stupid as believing in astrology. I pick and choose the things I believe in. I don’t quite ‘fit in’ to the single belief. That’s OK. Why not? I’m making my own bible. It does for me.

Do I believe in heaven, even if I have some belief in God? No, that’s where I can’t go. I want to make an impact on this world in the (vain?) hope that there will be people who remember me. That is my heaven. I try to be nice, not because I am a Christian but because I feel more comfortable living like that.

I try to do what my Grandfather said. I am trying to be content. It works for me.

Unusually for me, I have decided I might edit this post after the event. So I may do that. Just so you know.

My head, my face and what actually comes out of my mouth.

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It is 7.30 a.m. The sign reads 25°C.

I like it a lot although it is pretty humid, especially last night.

And, about last night. We went for a beer, just the two of us. We were chatting and P, my next-door neighbour came into Polpetta. We were chatting. She’s giving up her flat. Her lease runs out and they are increasing the rent – considerably. It’s too much for just one person and times is hard, especially in her line of work. And, so, she’s moving out of Milan, in November. It’s a shame as she is the only one in the building that I speak to.

F asked her about her rent. She does have a really good deal now, for sure. F and I talked about the flat below mine. I have asked about the cost of that flat. They will let me know in September. Then he asked about checking out the one with the terrace that is opposite the courtyard from mine.

And then he said (again) about how he couldn’t live with anyone again. The reason is: what happens when we split up?

I don’t say anything stupid like ‘Well, that’s not going to happen’. That would provoke the response of ‘You never know. Nothing lasts forever’. Instead I say, ‘Yes, I understand what you mean’.

And, I’m not really sure how this happened, but then he said, within the next 10 minutes that, perhaps we could live together and ‘would I want that?’.

My face stays flat. Without emotion. In my head I am screaming that yes, of course that’s what I want. My face says nothing and my mouth says, ‘Well, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about a cleaner’ and then I laugh.

It’s almost as if, if I don’t say what I really want, that’s what I get from him. It’s different to any other relationship I’ve had before.

And now, because I received the anonymous email and then made an unexpected post, last night, I’ve reached post 999.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve written post 1000. I’ll set it to publish whilst I’m away. It gives you, my dear reader, something to look forward to. I hope it doesn’t disappoint and hopefully, the guy won’t manage to get my blog taken down in the meantime but I have backups and, if it does go, it should be back within a couple of days after I come back from my holiday.

Enjoy. E buona vacanza

Well, erm, no actually

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Just received an email from someone called Bye Bye (saygoodbye0088@ymail.com) which said:

Andy
Please take your blog off the internet ASAP.
Kindest

That was it. No signature – nothing else.

Well, erm, no actually.

I mean why?

Who are you that you should tell me to take it off?

If you have some beef with it, then please email me. There must be a solution. Indeed, if you’re Serge Bodulovic, then there was a solution a long time ago. I didn’t like that you lied to me and I didn’t like that you did a runner owing me money when I had been nothing but kind, decent and considerate to you. The solution was to get your rich Daddy to pay up. Then this never would have been a problem. I’m still open to a recompense for the damage you caused and the extra work we had to do to clean your filthy mess when you disappeared that night.

If it is you, then why don’t you grow up and do the right thing?

It’s a drag

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There are so many things to do.

Instead, I am at work, doing nothing of importance since most people are on holiday or we are waiting for some answers (which never seem to come).

And, so, I sit here, waiting for the time to go. To go and do some useful things.

I have a couple of things to iron. And I really should pack (and NOT leave it until the last minute – like tomorrow night at about 8 p.m.) and get stuff ready for the dogs and things like that.

I have one telephone lesson tonight – but that’s only about half an hour.

And, again, I feel like I can’t hurry this along enough.

This blog will be slightly closed for a couple of weeks since I am not taking a computer and do not intend to go to an Internet café. Obviously, I will be writing stuff – in long hand – like the olden days – and then some of them may be transferred here as posts when I’m back.

If you’re going away, then have a good holiday. If not then have a good fortnight.

p.s. there won’t be enough posts to post my 1000th post before I go and so it will wait until I get back although I have written it already.

p.p.s. I suppose I might come back to a land of disarray, if Italy gets dragged into the same boat as Portugal, Greece and Ireland.

p.p.p.s I see that our marvelous British tabloid papers are getting all excited about the thought of the MPs debating capital punishment because it’s ‘what the people want’. I’d just like to say that when there was a lot of rumpus about paedophilia, a paediatrician’s house got attacked by a mob of upstanding British subjects. Apparently that’s what ‘the people’ wanted. Just ‘cos they want something doesn’t make it right. People! Bloody dangerous, if you ask me, especially when their thoughts are stoked by the tabloid press.

Head in the sand or super-intelligent?

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Now that the USA have managed to agree to borrow a whole lot more money, the speculators have, once again, turned their attention to Europe.

As a result, yesterday, according to the reports, the borrowing of both Spain and Italy came under renewed pressure and their interest rates (for the government borrowing) went up a bit. Well, I know that isn’t quite right but it amounts to the same thing.

This, apparently, puts them in the same position as Portugal and Greece were in just before having to have a bailout. Let’s be honest, the markets are sure the Euro will fail or one or more countries will default on their debts – meaning that they can make a killing on betting that the Euro will, instead of being quite a strong currency, fail or fall dramatically.

Who gives a shit about the people who actually live and work there? It appears not these guys.

But, the people around me (well the few who talk to me about it) are convinced that, in spite of everything, Italy is perfectly safe. This is either crass stupidity or they’re really knowledgeable. One guy says that there won’t be any problem because the taxes will rise to pay for it and the Italians always pay up. Another said that, because of the uniqueness of the Italian mentality and the fact that they have so much in savings, the reality is that it won’t be a problem and that actually, Italy is in a much better position than Germany or France – with a better productivity than any other country – mainly because they don’t finish work at 5 p.m. but, rather, stay until 8 or 9.

Hmmmm.

For what it’s worth (which isn’t much) my opinion is that both Italy and Spain will be forced to ask for help being, as it is, more important that the speculators make their money from the fall or demotion of the Euro. Until one or more countries default on their debt, they won’t be happy.

Of course, the most sensible thing is to get rid of this model and try something different. But that will only be forced through by ‘the people’ who won’t do anything.

The people with money have the power and, whilst they have the power they will always have the money. Such is life.

In the meantime, the countdown is on until Spain and Italy are dragged into making a cry for help that is neither necessary nor prudent.

And for me it will mean that the belt must be tightened and luxuries will be forgone. Probably. Let’s see.

Words and deeds. Chalk and cheese.

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Just like eating food, here, means that people talk about food, so going on holiday leads to people talking about holidays. Not always this one but future ones.

Sunday. Lunch. It was F’s Dad’s birthday and it reminded me that it was only a year ago when I first met ‘the Family’. In fact, this time last year, we went to the same restaurant, the day after his birthday. For his birthday, the whole family went to a fantastic restaurant on the side of a mountain. The Sunday was a lunch at a restaurant at the beach.

We’re back at the same restaurant. This time it is different. This time I know the people and they know me. There is talk – of holidays. F is suggesting that we could go to Sicily next year. There is talk of his sister coming plus brother-in-law and niece. Apparently, I learn, they have a house down in Sicily too!

I’ve never been to Sicily. I have been told it is a wonderful place. I would very much like to go. He asks if I would like to go and I say ‘yes’.

There is talk about the travel down there – plane, boats and road. I think F wants to take the plane from Milan. His brother-in-law is suggesting ferries. The first leg to Naples and the second to Messina. It’s cheaper that way. Each journey will be about 6 hours, apparently.

It is accepted that I will be there. I like it a lot. Even if S gets mentioned quite often, it’s not said in any way to make me feel uncomfortable (which it doesn’t). Anyway, it seems that barring the detail, next year it will be Sicily in a house I didn’t know about!

Except.

Of course, words are one thing. Deeds are another.

We’re at Polpetta with An, last night. The talk is of holidays. Her parents have a house in Puglia. F says that we will go there next year. I say it would be lovely. Of course it would. I learn that F hasn’t actually been back to Sicily since he was about 12!!!!!! He says it won’t be a real holiday since it would mean having to go round to relatives all the time. And lots of eating. But, since he hasn’t been there since he was 12, I’m thinking that he doesn’t really know. It’s OK anyway. I know these are words. Words are very different from deeds – at least, to him.

We differ a lot.

I empathise with the Sicily problem although, quite obviously, I don’t see this as a problem. I can empathise because I’ve heard it several times before. So when I say ‘Yes, of course’, I mean ‘Yes, of course, I’ve heard this before’. When I say ‘It’s not really a holiday’, I’m repeating what he has already said to me and not because I actually believe it.

So, this year is set. One week in Carrara followed by one week in Umbria – where we went last year.

Next year is only words. It’s OK. Maybe it will be Sicily or maybe Puglia or maybe just Carrara (He’s mentioned that already as it will be much cheaper). To be honest, I don’t really mind, as long as I’m with him.

Oh yes, and last night it is mentioned that we shall be going to Sardinia in May. Or maybe St Tropez. Or some place in the very south of Spain. It’s his friends 50th birthday and she wants to celebrate big time. I wonder when he knew? I wonder why he’s only told me now? Still, words are only words.

The Kiss

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It could have been missed.

Like an autumn leaf brushing against your hand in the wind. Not one of the hard, brittle, dried out leaves but the orange or yellow ones, still soft with the life that was – before rigour mortis sets in.

Of course, in previous lives it wouldn’t have meant much, really. Perhaps that’s all part of it? The rarity making it more precious, more meaningful.

It was almost stolen.

And the stealing of it made it more important. It’s not like there aren’t any – just none like this or, at least, not very often. And, in itself it would not normally mean much.

It was ‘in passing’.

As if not to be significant. Just like a ‘Hi’ to a friend across the street – even a mouthed ‘Hi’ – and yet, by its very casualness, it meant more.

It was so light.

Had I been busy I may not have noticed. They say ‘as light as a feather’, yet this was lighter.

No words were said, of course. They never are. I’m beginning to understand that they aren’t really necessary. In fact, almost by the lack of words, it means more – but I’m not sure I would have understood that years ago. In fact, I’m sure I wouldn’t have. You see how it all fits in – the timing, the meaning, the everything?

And talking of timing, we’re talking of microseconds. Not even a second. Being, as it was, unexpected, it could have been imagined. Except it wasn’t. I’m tuning into these things now, I think.

So, it was nothing really and yet, everything. Telling all, meaning everything as I stood in the kitchen doing something, as he walked behind me and his lips brushed the back of my shoulders in the microsecond of a kiss.

Musings from the beach

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They disliked or maybe, even, despised jewellery on a man. I wonder, then, what they would have thought of the old man at the umbrella before me, wearing his log gold chain with a square of gold dangling from the middle. Hardly a medalion but, then, he’s hardly a medalion man – being, as he is, about mid-70s, where everything is already on its way South and his small breasts in need of some support. I wonder if it all heads South as that is where the ground is and where he will lie sometime (soon?) – almost as if it points the way to his destination?

And then I thought about my parents disliking jewellery on a man and thought that, perhaps, they disliked me as much as I did them. I disliked them for their values – and mine are opposite, to the extreme. Did I get my ‘opposite values’ because I disliked them and theirs or did I get mine first and disliked them (my parents) because their values were not mine.

All this is lost in time. Never to be known. Such is life.