Do you have any coping strategies for the cold, dark mornings and long winter evenings?
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Review of "Do you have any coping strategies for the cold, dark mornings and long winter evenings?"
''The Differend: Phrases in Dispute' -- Jean - Francois Lyotard; definitely a winter warmer.
My coping mechanism was knowing a membership was spending time reading my opinions, even if they weren't I convinced myself they were clicking onto my writings and agreeably nodding in appreciation of my ramblings, praps in spirit. It gave me a warm feeling inside an online community of all demographics saw my mugshot and thought: "I see the gent has submitted something.... lets amuse the fellow by giving the impression the review has been read; fingers-crossed, I'll get a payable rate back." Now the goalposts have been moved to the fringes of Mongolia, I again convince myself the means of keeping warm is to imagine I have a readership, chewing on pen lids, while toying about on girlie sites - I don't demand your complete attention; especially having to deal with cold, dark mornings. I imagine seeing my 'Ciao' profile shining on member's faces not by content but by the device's screen light. Luminating the immediate environ like a friendly smile. Of course, I'm kidding myself, there's no-one about. I maybe warm and comfortable; alas, this festive period is superfluous to my requirement; yet another ribbon, another year marking human insanity. Naturally, I'm complicit in regards to madness --- why I write on a decrepit platform to a non-specific audience.
I was in a buoyant mood last week when I let loose on a plan of internal affairs to a comrade who'd saw a suspicious twinkle in my left tearduct. Ah, it's something to keep me warm during the winter months I stated: My midnight reading material -- Adorno and Kant's 'Aesthetic Theory' and 'Critique of Judgement.' A couple of immense minded building blocks to cement an anti-governance agenda that super trumps subsequent laws affiliated to 'Brexit.' Lawmakers herein have purposefully gifted loopholes for corporations to hold our sovereign governance to account thereafter March 2019. Ultimately, the foundation is our own 'Bill of Rights;' as expressed in my debate piece: 'Sovereign a Problem.' In simplistic form progressive powers to UK businesses is dawning, and under the right of communicationalist ideology; it's exposed judgements post June 2016 are not remotely judicially watertight - before then it was rhetoric; the danger is when law is written on a foundation of rhetoric -- at no point can it stand up to a critique.
Panto horse season
In eighteen months, through the 'Bill of Rights' corporations can legally ask the UK government for subsidies to cover the loss of profits to satisfy investors due to needless complexing relations with EU trading partners. They'll be no Westminster defense - easy detailing to ferment, devised to secure vocations and prosperity for corporate ownership; about time the 1689 law was brought into the 21st Century psyche. Yes, rivetting research is on the near horizon; plus unsurmountable opportunism too; via financial and social means. For a snippet of factual constitutional led philosophy, in 'Critique of Judgement' under power it reads: "nature and freedom that is not to be bridged by way of theoretical cognition is a failure of the authority itself."
Frightening to pay witness to speculative metaphysics discourse that's underwritten by powers as genuine clauses. Unknown to them, it has the capacity to dissolve power and bringeth to calumny in a democratic state. Illusions are like behemoth white elephants in the room, when they're dressed up as a panto horse no court in the land would systematically allow the fiasco to make a mockery of the constitution... the jury would in a jejune tone shout in unison: "the white elephant dressed as a panto horse is behind you." If there was a representative of power they'll be saying: "Ah, that's no white elephant, but a hefty panto horse having spent too long in a subsidised bar in Whitehall; drinking apples."
Now, I'm not attempting to be entertaining, it's a contemplative research pathway, the light to my dark mornings. Maybe worth concluding that I won't be posting the final draft on a review platform alleged to be winding down; indeed-y, sometimes what I write has incalculable value. And for those of you still reading my debate pieces, you may spot a coping strategy between the lines of prose written in an autochthonous means, this is a self-professed signature. I'm not embarrassed to claim I'm infinitely flying a metaphoric flag for the professors who spiritingly enthused learning to those who were priviledged to bathe in their intellectual glory.
Ye-h, as a coping strategy I think fondly of them: a few are not present anymore, and don't deserve the 'late' tag. Their works are forever present enduring the test of time - still enabling minds to be problem solvers, pioneers of contemporary thought. Again, I get a warmth within recalling how I first felt when I read Joyce's Ulysses last chapter. Thereafter, I knew anything was possible, and should be championed... limitations were for the weak and feeble; my first prose was wondering if Mum would worry if I emulated Evel Knievel. There's a thrill in jumping into unchartered waters, reliant on your glib for a soft landing. Whether its by act or pen there's always a fear factor you've misjudged the size of the jump. I've neither seen a panto horse nor a white elephant jump, alas I guess somewhere in the dark depths of 'YouTube' both have been spotted thanks to the wonders of graphic edits and enhancers. Suspecting a disaster to emerge for mild titterlation; remarkable what's available to quench your curiosities -- to distract you from the realities of winter.
Hello, anyone there? I'd so wanted to write about my time being a disaster tourist (someone who seeks out disasters where one is likely to be). One solitude day when I printed off governmental papers... I found not only did I compute the devious fascist plan of diminishing workers and expat rights, there was a disingenous agenda to dupe the electorate. November 1st, what a day, the 'Exiting the EU' team had predicted a disaster, and being a disaster tourist like a bloodhound I was hot on the trail of what was going to be reported via the mainstream media --- yep, nothing! However, there's a sense of good and evil, because the governance has decided to be absolutely incompetent in their jobs rather than unleashing the reality to those who firmly stipulate panto horses have rights too.
At present, I'm content to be living in a peaceful delusion in which the moral fibre of our chieftains are rarely tested; as much as I want to write candidly on this subject I still oddly enough like to console myself and reside in a warm library without interuption; this is my default strategy... until the nukes fall, lighting up the 4.55 PM sky.©1st2thebar 2017
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Listed on Ciao since: 22/11/2017