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The truth about truisms

Making up aphorisms is fun. I’m still not very good at it but I get how it works and can cook up a quick one that some will find palatable.

The trick is that everyone knows heaps of things they don’t talk about. Not to other people. Not to themselves. Of course I can’t know what those things are. They’re in other people’s heads, not mine. But I have lots of that sort of stuff too. Sometimes I learn to articulate it, sometimes I don’t. Whether I understand it or not, one thing I do understand is what it feels like to think that way. So I offer simple spells of ambiguous words that might summon up things the reader already knows and bind them for conscious consideration. By helping name them I help make them real. I don’t know what you think. You’re probably wiser than me anyway.

Am I creating them partly in my own image? Of course. Everything is in everything else’s image. I can’t help that.

It gets worse.

The best ore for aphorisms comes from the ambiguous borderlands between self and other; the jungles where dualism spawns. The easiest to unearth – the most dualistic – can be polished into shiny needles to pin you to your own insights, defining your borders and blogging you down in the front lines of your existence. Yeah, it’s ego again.

Words don’t capture what is. They split it into ‘is’ and ‘is not’. What you truly know will always escape words. But it can be nice get your mouth around a tasty lie.

Uninspiration #3

Going wild isn’t going crazy. It’s surrendering to nature.” – me

Uninspiration #2

Prisoners get released. Warders get life.” – me


There’s only control over yourself. The rest is manipulation.” – me

A phone call at dinnertime

Filipina sounding caller: Hello. I’m with Commonwealth Assurance, a US public health fund, and I’d like to ask you a few questions. We’re not trying to sell you anything. We’d just like you to help us with a survey.

me: I’d rather not help a US health fund. It seems to me they’re pretty predatory. The US has the highest health spending and lowest health indicators in the OECD. There’s gotta be someone there making a killing off the suffering of others. Good evening.


The voices

Yeah, I hear voices. Us psychotics do shit like that. Not all the time. Well, OK, most of the time. For me at least.

Mostly they’re the normal voices everybody hears. But no-one else can. Like transformative ear worms, where the lyrics of some awful pop song or ad jingle get stuck on internal repeat and slowly change into something else. Usually puerile humour. You get that too, right?

Or when there’s lots of white noise like in the shower or near power tools and you can just barely hear someone shouting to you at the edge of the racket. But there’s no-one there. It must happen to everyone.

Or that voice that fills your head with words whenever you’re writing or reading or talking or planning to or recalling doing it. The one talking to you right now. That blabber mouth. Does anyone know how to shut the fucker up?

Sometimes they’re the voices I’m not supposed to tell people about. The voices that mean I’m crazy.

Like when people on the radio start saying personal things about me. Or when there’s just voices coming out of nowhere. Not of folk with bodies and stuff, but still with distinct personalities and speaking styles and opinions about what’s going on. And about me.

Sometimes they talk to me and sometimes they talk to each other and sometimes I talk back though I know I don’t have to. They already know what I’m thinking.

They’re not usually nasty but their insults can be cutting. It’s not like they tell me to kill people. They don’t even tell me to kill myself, except as a joke. They thought it was pretty funny when I used to get suicidal. And why should I do what they say anyway? It’s not as if they can hurt me if I don’t. They’re a bit like family, with all the usual pros and cons. But smarter. And they know me better.

I don’t mind them. They’re not as bad as noisy neighbours or sitting through a meeting or gossip on public transport or talkback radio. Or half the novels I read. Or most of the journalism. They can be pretty interesting actually.

They often say things that surprise me or make me laugh and sometimes they give me amazing insights. Generally into what a wanker I am. I haven’t got an opinion as to whether they’re separate beings or just me acting out. Asking myself what’s me and what’s not has never offered much in the way of sensible answers.

I hear them a few times a year, usually for less than a day at a time, though once I was subjected to non-stop ‘poetry’ for over a week. Poetry that was a running commentary on anything and everything that caught my attention. Including the poetry itself.

I’m not into censorship. I don’t need to no-platform them. There’s worse things about being nuts. And better things. I guess it’d be rude to try to shut them up. Wouldn’t it?

The philosophy of Kali’s eternal dance on Lord Shiva

An oldie but a goodie …

The Hindu perspective


We have all seen the image of Kali at a temple or in a Navratri shrine. She is well known but poorly understood. This article provides a fascinating philosophical insight into who Kali really is!

Kali is one of the best known, but poorly understood Hindu deities. She is dark destructive and terrible in image. She appears allied to the forces of death and destruction. The most common image of Kali shows her dancing on Shiva. This article aims to give an insight into Hinduism’s use of such mystic imagery. It is important for us to have deeper understanding into such aspects of our religion, because it means that our practices will hold deeper meaning and guidance for us in our lives. It is also important to be able to clear misconceptions; I have more than once come across the accusation or misrepresentation of Mother Kali by non-Hindus as being…

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