That’s a grand statement, spewed, and recorded. Fact or fiction, I can picture you , pen in hand ✍️ , quite proud of your words of wisdom. I nodded in agreement. Though I do not record them ( should have) ,I’ve hurled a few words towards my wife beater neighbor, knew his first wife well, she happened to be a patient at our office , he’s on marriage #4 , directed at his new ostentatious home. Right next door. Bleh. Answering your beautiful post with this;
“No one yet has made a list of places where the extraordinary may happen and where it may not. Still, there are indications. Among crowds, in drawing rooms, among easements and comforts and pleasures, it is seldom seen. It likes the out-of-doors. It likes the concentrating mind. It likes solitude. It is more likely to stick to the risk-taker than the ticket-taker. It isn’t that it would disparage comforts, or the set routines of the world, but that its concern is directed to another place. Its concern is the edge, and the making of a form out of the formlessness that is beyond the edge.”
That Mary Oliver quote is excellent, thanks Lor, she really articulates the limits of conformity perfectly. Lovely.
This one is pure fiction, I have no notebook, (hardly ever take a bus) but I do spew private incantations like the character does, of course, as we all do, often unbidden, unconsciously they arise from the place of justice in our heads :)
This week feels like a little vehicle (too heavily laden perhaps) for carrying the strange conformity and foolish wastefulness of our lives. A friend of mine complained she had to read them twice or more to get the full juiciness. Maybe I should write longer things?
BTW, as a kid I grew up in a country practice. Do we have that in common? Wouldn't be surprised.
You've got a Substack in you Lor, just this is enough to get the reading interest flowing :) Acupuncture is a go to for me, always works incredibly well. Even had it at the dentist for pain relief instead of an injection, perfect substitute.
I love a little - or even 'much' in this case - profanity directed at "that special class of egomaniacal imbeciles" and if “Pheasant-fucking porridge-munching feudal-fuckers.” wasn't your best, I shudder to think what is Jonathan! ;-)
This is exceptional writing, it reminds me of the train station in Brighton which is full (or was) of 'Tea Men' usually with a hat upside down on the pavement in the hope of kindnesses from stuffy business people who never failed in giving them a wide berth.
These Brighton Tea Men too, prophets and poets, revered by the boho crowds and well looked after… I sat with them often, spoke in verse, sang their ballads… and so I continue on my hill only here the gurus have a different form.
I'm never going to be able to get off the bus at Oxford Castle when I go into town for work without thinking of that fantastic insult. Slightly worried now though, as I read this while I was waiting for some porridge to heat up!
I'll also take feathers and amber, loved this piece! On one of the roads out of the small town where I shop, just after the junction is a defunct petrol station that still has rusty pumps and dirty corrugated shelter. One rainy day, dumped there was a large grubby once red velvet sofa with two matching armchairs. Sitting comfortably were three scruffy non-conformist types sharing tea, poteen and stories. On invitation I sat and joined them for tea while my car was being repaired over the road - an enlightening and inclusive conversation with the excluded. We still exchange cheery waves and sometimes tea ☕️
I just loved this. The tea man provides a mirror to all that people are too ashamed and fearful to see. The tea man has it all really, has given up the ego and can now find the peace that everyone else is rushing around to find " somewhere in the future". A beautiful expression Jonathon.
I also thoroughly enjoyed saying your Pheasant fucking tongue twister out loud a few times. Thanks!
With certainly no offense to your friend. Personally, I feel it should be what ever length the author needs for the sake of one’s own creativity. I do not devote a whole lot of time to Substack , cuz I am not a writer. Only reading ~24 individuals and a few odds and ends. I tend to drift a bit when the post is long. It makes me want to step away and finish later, but then reluctantly, I continue the read because I want to take it all in. Which defeats the purpose. Forgetting my initial thoughts and how it affected me as the story continues on. You write intensely, and I love that. I expect to read it over again, and always do. I want to be a part of the ideas and stories as best I can, to offer a thoughtful comment in thanks. I admit , long or short, sometimes I don’t understand it all, but that is part of the beauty of ‘reading’ someone else’s mind. If that’s any help. Tell your friend , ‘ twice is nice’.
Off for a walk with Ranger, but I’m com’in back for more about the country practice. You’ll have to suffer my story.
That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, I discovered, after reading what you wisely wrote. Thanks Lor, you’re right of course. And that I’m one of those you read is a real honour. Enjoy your walk. I await your story 👍🏼
“Pheasant-fucking porridge-munching feudal-fuckers.”
That’s a grand statement, spewed, and recorded. Fact or fiction, I can picture you , pen in hand ✍️ , quite proud of your words of wisdom. I nodded in agreement. Though I do not record them ( should have) ,I’ve hurled a few words towards my wife beater neighbor, knew his first wife well, she happened to be a patient at our office , he’s on marriage #4 , directed at his new ostentatious home. Right next door. Bleh. Answering your beautiful post with this;
“No one yet has made a list of places where the extraordinary may happen and where it may not. Still, there are indications. Among crowds, in drawing rooms, among easements and comforts and pleasures, it is seldom seen. It likes the out-of-doors. It likes the concentrating mind. It likes solitude. It is more likely to stick to the risk-taker than the ticket-taker. It isn’t that it would disparage comforts, or the set routines of the world, but that its concern is directed to another place. Its concern is the edge, and the making of a form out of the formlessness that is beyond the edge.”
~Mary Oliver ( Upstream)
That Mary Oliver quote is excellent, thanks Lor, she really articulates the limits of conformity perfectly. Lovely.
This one is pure fiction, I have no notebook, (hardly ever take a bus) but I do spew private incantations like the character does, of course, as we all do, often unbidden, unconsciously they arise from the place of justice in our heads :)
This week feels like a little vehicle (too heavily laden perhaps) for carrying the strange conformity and foolish wastefulness of our lives. A friend of mine complained she had to read them twice or more to get the full juiciness. Maybe I should write longer things?
BTW, as a kid I grew up in a country practice. Do we have that in common? Wouldn't be surprised.
You've got a Substack in you Lor, just this is enough to get the reading interest flowing :) Acupuncture is a go to for me, always works incredibly well. Even had it at the dentist for pain relief instead of an injection, perfect substitute.
In all that darkness a tea cup has my full attention, and you've got me contemplating what freedom really means to a man.
Exactly, freedom, conformity, choice, membership, exploitation... Just a list list of the daily experiences we all undergo :)
Thanks Troy
I love a little - or even 'much' in this case - profanity directed at "that special class of egomaniacal imbeciles" and if “Pheasant-fucking porridge-munching feudal-fuckers.” wasn't your best, I shudder to think what is Jonathan! ;-)
This is exceptional writing, it reminds me of the train station in Brighton which is full (or was) of 'Tea Men' usually with a hat upside down on the pavement in the hope of kindnesses from stuffy business people who never failed in giving them a wide berth.
Feathers and Amber, I will take that...
The Tea Men are almost like the guru's of the west, a reflection of ourselves as much as anything else.
Brighton eh? Of course ;)
These Brighton Tea Men too, prophets and poets, revered by the boho crowds and well looked after… I sat with them often, spoke in verse, sang their ballads… and so I continue on my hill only here the gurus have a different form.
Sounds wonderful Susie, and the ol'good days of Brighton, such a lovely city in my memories too :)
Wonderful writing, thanks. I savoured every word.
Thank you so much Dominique, there's quite a lot packed in here so I was a bit worried, thanks for the kind reassurance, I'm relieved :)
I'm never going to be able to get off the bus at Oxford Castle when I go into town for work without thinking of that fantastic insult. Slightly worried now though, as I read this while I was waiting for some porridge to heat up!
Thats made me laugh. I reckon have a cup of tea with the porridge and everything balances out ;)
So glad you're here reading Andy, thanks :)
Phew, glad the porridge and tea combo is acceptable.
Wow. You've got me curious now.
Thanks Damian, that sounds promising 👍🏼
Another wonderful picture painted in words, I recognise that castle and the Tea Man, thanks I’ll think on this.
Masterful evocation as usual - tremendous stuff. xx
🙏🏽 Thank you my friend
"I was being drawn toward the edge of the light, nose to nose with the darkness."
No wonder you rave about the feathers and amber. And now I'm raving about your writing: bloody hell, this is fantastic, Jonathan.
Thanks Fotini, I'm trying, I'm trying :)
I'll also take feathers and amber, loved this piece! On one of the roads out of the small town where I shop, just after the junction is a defunct petrol station that still has rusty pumps and dirty corrugated shelter. One rainy day, dumped there was a large grubby once red velvet sofa with two matching armchairs. Sitting comfortably were three scruffy non-conformist types sharing tea, poteen and stories. On invitation I sat and joined them for tea while my car was being repaired over the road - an enlightening and inclusive conversation with the excluded. We still exchange cheery waves and sometimes tea ☕️
That process of re-humanising after all the de-humanising is a beautiful moment, right? Thanks so much for reading and the kind comment Marika 🙏🏽
I just loved this. The tea man provides a mirror to all that people are too ashamed and fearful to see. The tea man has it all really, has given up the ego and can now find the peace that everyone else is rushing around to find " somewhere in the future". A beautiful expression Jonathon.
I also thoroughly enjoyed saying your Pheasant fucking tongue twister out loud a few times. Thanks!
My pleasure Jo, and thank you.
Bloody hell this is brilliant.
Thanks Kimberly, that's very good to hear :)
As far as writing longer thoughts and stories?
With certainly no offense to your friend. Personally, I feel it should be what ever length the author needs for the sake of one’s own creativity. I do not devote a whole lot of time to Substack , cuz I am not a writer. Only reading ~24 individuals and a few odds and ends. I tend to drift a bit when the post is long. It makes me want to step away and finish later, but then reluctantly, I continue the read because I want to take it all in. Which defeats the purpose. Forgetting my initial thoughts and how it affected me as the story continues on. You write intensely, and I love that. I expect to read it over again, and always do. I want to be a part of the ideas and stories as best I can, to offer a thoughtful comment in thanks. I admit , long or short, sometimes I don’t understand it all, but that is part of the beauty of ‘reading’ someone else’s mind. If that’s any help. Tell your friend , ‘ twice is nice’.
Off for a walk with Ranger, but I’m com’in back for more about the country practice. You’ll have to suffer my story.
That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, I discovered, after reading what you wisely wrote. Thanks Lor, you’re right of course. And that I’m one of those you read is a real honour. Enjoy your walk. I await your story 👍🏼
Loved it all
We're all the Tea Man really ;)
Oh for the luxury of tea brewed unhurriedly outside.
Time to pop out for a cuppa maybe ;)
Pouring the tea of solitude into a cuppa maybe, Jonathan. Thank you.
You might well be right there, Paul. And thank you my friend 🙏🏼
Thanks Dinah, put on the kettle then ;)