Having not felt the festive buzz upto now it is starting to creep in finally. This year is different for many reasons; we wont have a tree, or turkey, or freezing weather. But mostly granda wont be at the christmas table. I'll miss shouting into his good ear over the carols while perching a flimsy pink christmas cracker crown on his head. I'll particularly miss seeing him asleep in the chair (with crown still on) flanked by an empty whiskey glass and a box of roses.
But everything marches on. In spain (granda's spiritual home) the entire and complete macalister clan will toast him; his life, his sayings, his highs and his lows. The legacy he left us.
There couldn't be a more perfect way to celebrate this christmas and new year. In its difference; it is home.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
A Comfort
From The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa
'I often wonder what kind of person I would be if I had been protected from the cold wind of fate by the screen of wealth, and my uncle's moral hand had never led me to an office in Lisbon, and I had never moved on from there to other offices to reach the tawdry heights of being a good assistant book-keeper in a job that is about as demanding as an afternoon nap and offers a salary that gives me just enough to live on.
I know that had that non-existent past existed, I would not now be capable of writing these pages, which, though few, are at least better than all the pages I would have undoubtedly have only day-dreamed about given more comfortable circumstances. For banality is a form of intelligence, and reality, especially if it is brutish and rough, forms a natural complement to the soul.
Much of what i feel and think I owe to my work as a book-keeper since the former exists as a negation of and flight from the latter.'
'I often wonder what kind of person I would be if I had been protected from the cold wind of fate by the screen of wealth, and my uncle's moral hand had never led me to an office in Lisbon, and I had never moved on from there to other offices to reach the tawdry heights of being a good assistant book-keeper in a job that is about as demanding as an afternoon nap and offers a salary that gives me just enough to live on.
I know that had that non-existent past existed, I would not now be capable of writing these pages, which, though few, are at least better than all the pages I would have undoubtedly have only day-dreamed about given more comfortable circumstances. For banality is a form of intelligence, and reality, especially if it is brutish and rough, forms a natural complement to the soul.
Much of what i feel and think I owe to my work as a book-keeper since the former exists as a negation of and flight from the latter.'
Monday, December 6, 2010
A Month?
Don't really know what happened there ... how did a month pass by in a couple of days?! By my new time measuring machine it will be christmas 2012 in approximately three months.
November consisted of a lot or reading and a visit to london, sickness, continued sickness and now the snow. The snow has its charms but its charms are running out. Driving to work everyday at a snails pace is taking its toll on both my time sheet and my sanity. Bring on the thaw. But I dont think im ready for the headlines that will replace the snowy ones. Will be doing my best to avoid news of the budget because right now I have a job and my car starts in the morning and while I still have the sniffles it ain't the flu.
So I will continue to hunker down with the fire blazing and a book in my paw and continue to ignore the 'real world' for as long is physically possible.
November consisted of a lot or reading and a visit to london, sickness, continued sickness and now the snow. The snow has its charms but its charms are running out. Driving to work everyday at a snails pace is taking its toll on both my time sheet and my sanity. Bring on the thaw. But I dont think im ready for the headlines that will replace the snowy ones. Will be doing my best to avoid news of the budget because right now I have a job and my car starts in the morning and while I still have the sniffles it ain't the flu.
So I will continue to hunker down with the fire blazing and a book in my paw and continue to ignore the 'real world' for as long is physically possible.
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