Orca (The Killer Whale), Covent Garden, and The Female of the Species

During a recent sojourn in London I observed many beautiful women; some with wondrous faces; some with wondrous legs, and some with faces like used newspapers. Who am I to talk? My face has a deep-grained tiredness, which makes me look permanently worn out. When disorientated tourists ask me directions - holding an open map of Paris while in London is a giveaway - I begin to stammer, flush. My beard makes strange noises not unlike Orca, the killer whale, when he's hold up in a hotel without a view of the sea. Implausibly, the male killer whale is the only creature - other than human beings - who kills for revenge. Furthermore, he has to be paid upfront in used banknotes, and will not accept notes printed by the Northern Bank.

I find women who look tense, determined, and have an abrasive edge, are great as friends, but not as lovers, or adjustable footrests. As I went for a short walk on Long Acre Street, Covent Garden, I first saw, and met, Marcelline. She was wearing a thin, black dress stretched tight over her hips, and walking - forgive me, running - her hand through her short, black hair. Our eyes didn't meet until she dropped a glove. I called after her, waving the glove to get her attention. She thanked me with a shadow of a smile and resumed walking.

Digression. I can be suave, brave, an amusing man; but only while asleep. This has drawbacks. Meaningful dates with the opposite sex tend to take place while I'm awake. However, as soon as I set eyes on my date, shyness and anxiety descend like a dark cloud, or a giant image of Burt Reynolds in the film, "The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing," in which, I believe, he played a dark-haired poodle that wore a hairpiece. End of Digression.
 
I had a sudden urge for the impossible. I decided to run after her. Perhaps to Marcelline it was my illusionary arrogance - or my resemblance to King Lear - but she stopped, smiled and looked at me from head to toe. She became prettier by the minute. I felt a stirring of unused powers. A new fire in my eyes, and gas is so expensive. In my stupor, I asked if she wished to share my umbrella, to which she laughed, "Why? Do you think it might rain?" The sun shone bright, and the sky was pale blue. She radiated youthful warmth, and solicitude; I radiated naivety, stupidity, and acne vulgaris which should have cleared up thirty years earlier.

We had lunch at a French restaurant in Covent Garden. Over the next few hours we talked about everything, except the bill. I've always preferred the company of females to that of the male. With men it's sport, work, colleagues, sex, dirty jokes, sport, work, colleagues - mostly without truth, emotion, detail, or intellectual prowess. In the absence of alcohol; utter tedium.

I find woman easier. Their emotions are undisguised; they speak with passion, foolishness, anger, tears, intuition; openness about love, eroticism, jealousy, betrayal, adultery, troubles, their bodies, ageing. The list is endless, and may all evolve from one conversation.

Marcelline? Out of my league. Out of my life. An insignificant encounter which left a definite impression. I paid the bill. It was worth it to converse with a lady so beautiful, somewhat romantic, and with considerable intellectual curiosity. I remember every detail, except the food.

Reflections: Any disharmony or disorder you sense from your contemporaries, or peers, may be because they see only with their eyes, and not their minds. I merely point this out so you may closely observe your circle of friends with a detached manner. If you can't find a detached manner, an unattached manner will do just as well.

The brains of some individuals are underused and in need of the breath of life. Such people are clearly recognisable. They tend to preen themselves frequently; their bluster is trumped by their vanity, and their faces betray entrapment, animosity, true feelings, and numerous cosmetic surgery treatments which may include swapping their ears around.

The Carribbean, Flossing, and The Bedroom Mirror

In 1492 Columbus landed in the Caribbean mistaking it for India. As proof of his discovery he returned with a chicken masala meal for one, a singing snake, and a ventriloquist named Americo. The Europeans became obsessed with discovering civilisations, places, and practices in existence for thousands of years. They became fond of sailing, and the “World Cruise” was born.

Although agriculture was practiced in central and southern America for thousands of years, the Europeans showed the indigenous peoples how to make more food than they could eat. Also, how to make a profit. The Europeans soon discovered that guns and swords were unnecessary to control the population. Smallpox, measles, and the flu were faster, and did not involve night raids. Silver from the mines was a driving motive of Spanish colonisation. It helped that the “Conquistadors” had an unpronounceable name, and looked like Cubans.

The slave trade proved a valuable lesson to the Portuguese, British, French, Spanish, and Dutch. While exploiting the silver mines, and agricultural plantations, the Europeans discovered an important working practice. It was more cost effective to work people to death, and replace them, than improve their working conditions. This “principle” is still advocated today in most “best-selling” management books, human resource departments, organisations, companies, and military dictatorships around the globe.

A few weeks ago a young lady conducting a survey asked me how often I flossed my teeth. I said about 200 times a day, which left me little time to eat. She was strikingly good-looking, with long, black hair, and violet blue eyes. She laughed."You're crazy". She thanked me for contributing, and said, "Have a lovely evening".

I watched her cross the road. She waved and smiled. The extraordinary thing is that my answer to the question affected my behaviour. I started using about 45-50 metres of floss a day. Then I decided to purchase a Dental Floss Threader as I wear braces - if I don't wear braces my trousers fall down. Anyway, I'm on the look-out for someone conducting a "sex survey". If I start to act in accordance with the grandiloquent and boastful answers I intend to give, I shall have to exercise thoroughly, eat healthier food, and stop worrying why I have a flashlight on my bedside table, and a tape that constantly repeats, "I am simply not there".

My bedroom mirror confirmed - in writing (when did it learn French?) - that I have a "pot belly" which grows larger by the day. Must be the soil, the weather, or my left buttock is playing up again. I must make a strenuous effort to get rid of this unsightly extra mass. Its constant recital of Newton's laws of motion are tiring. Furthermore, it's physically, and emotionally, tiring dragging a great, heavy body around all day, so I've decided from now on to leave the wife at home when I venture out.

Reflections: I know - I think I know - about dinosaurs despite never having met one (not while sober, anyway). I suppose it's just information passed from generation to generation. In the West we tend to accrue a vast amount of knowledge about abstract words like "truth," "justice," "freedom," etc., and to worry about things we shall never know, no matter how hard we look, or by seeking the advice and knowledge of others'.

People from different cultures think about things differently, and perhaps that is the way the world has existed, and shall continue to do so. Who has the right to say the worldview of an individual, or a culture, is wrong if it does not intrude in the lives of others' causing physical, mental, spiritual harm?

Maybe we should just enjoy life as it happens - each minute - and try to shelve all worry, concern, and beliefs we have no control over, which may, paradoxically, control our lives to the detriment of our well-being. The solution sounds simple, but remains difficult to put into action. A human fallibility, but strong and destructive, nonetheless.

The Bare Necessities of Life, A Valuable Lesson, and The Stay-at-Homers

Today I'm not waiting for Godot, I'm waiting for an escalope of energy to pervade my body and mind. My marriage is badly frayed, my trousers and finances in shreds, I've mouths to feed - some with herpes simplex lesions - and my family has grown tired of eating soup every day made from my wife's left elbow. My wife isn't particularly happy either, especially during the simmering stage.

Am I alone in thinking that the quest for longer life requires eating food? My doctor keeps saying, "Remember, think in terms of lifespan, not waistband," and "Your level of bad cholesterol is bad". I was going to ask the doctor the number of calories in a bowl of elbow soup but decided against.

When I returned home I decided to research my own symptoms. I typed "bad cholesterol" into my favourite search engine. What I read was strange and disturbing. The medical information displayed on the Web site stated: "Choose Foods That Keep Bad Cholesterol at San Francisco Bay". Was it a typo? A deliberate misprint? My mind started racing. I had to run after it and pull it off my high wheeler. My thoughts quickly returned to my current plight. Could I sue myself for malpractice?

Suddenly, I felt a whistle coming on. Either it was an approaching train, or I was going to faint. Surrounded by clouds of smoke I passed out.

I learned a valuable lesson today. If you feel tired, dejected, uneasy, and your stomach is sabotaged by cramps and attacks of diarrhoea, don't wear a light coloured suit. Not only will the suit make you look smaller and less significant - remember Richard Nixon during the television debate with John F Kennedy? - after a "little accident" it can appear you have a map of Cuba emblazoned on your posterior, which magically changes to the Mergui Archipelago as you try to walk with your thighs locked. What caused this unenviable mishap?

As I entered the cramped office, my bank manager was rocking his chair. As he was standing up I found his behaviour disconcerting. Then he took me by the lapels. His head was swollen, and seemed to get larger as he tried to cut of my air supply. Then he shouted, his veins pulsating, "I'm worth more than the rest of them all put together, aren't I?!" I nodded as if invaded by a narcotic containing a vast quantity of opium. What was he talking about?

When I quietly told him the purpose of my visit - a request for an overdraft - he laughed hysterically, rolled his eyes, jumped on his desk, and danced the Charleston. Outside, I could hear him inside, still howling with laughter, and his feet tapping on the desk. Suddenly, I felt an arm on my shoulder. I thought it might be an old friend. I felt like the rain had stopped! It was an amputated arm! I must confess, I felt deranged. I didn't search for its owner, and hid it under my jacket. I walked home with my thights making inhuman noises. We made soup from the amputated arm. My wife was estactic to have a night off. It give her time to dress the burns on her elbow. Mind you, it didn't taste as good. I think it was an error keeping the Oris ProDiver Watch on the arm while making the soup.

Reflections: Can people say they truly know each other no matter how close the ties? Husband and wife; mother and daughter; father and son; siblings; relatives; work colleagues; friends; lovers. Our lack of knowledge about others - what they are really thinking - makes us all, sadly, most of the time, lonely.

Those who suffer insecurity, and are unsure of themselves, sometimes adopt the opposite attitude, and become dictatorial at work, at home, with friends. They become hard, ruthless, and destroy other people's lives by inducing prolonged stress, strain, exhaustion, bullying. Why? To hide their own weaknesses, insecurity, and fear. The "Inducer's" get a high by throwing democratic thinking clean out the window, ruling by dictatorship, and getting a free ride to force fellow human beings to live under their shadow.

It might not scare you, but it scares the hell out of me. In the workplace of many companies and organisations the "Big Guns" aka "The Inducers" are well known, and - the worse part; get this - are given total immunity. The "peashooters" are left to take the strain, to try to breathe fresh air in the presence of a blowtorch.

Seems the rise in working from home - "The Stay-at-Homers" - may be more beneficial to your health. Get rid of the car, skip the rush-hour traffic, put on your slippers, stay in your pyjamas, eat your cereal, clean your teeth, shower, read the paper, lock yourself in a room - off limits to your wife, children, and pets - packed with computers, laptops, cell phones, Blackberrys, videophones, high-speed Internet access. Your employer will be happy with your increased productivity, the tax credits they receive, savings in work space, and not having your lined, stressed, flushed face about the office. Just don't forget to put on your clothes and make-up before videoconferencing. That goes for the women too.

A Distressed Neighbour, Dual Master Bedrooms, and Venomous Snakes

A neighbour called at my home today in a state of distress. The guy has four toilets in his house, and in the process of deciding which one to use, he wet himself. I invited him in and let him sit in the cat’s litter tray. I poured some milk in the cat’s feeding dish, and watched as he licked the milk. It seemed to have a calming effect.

When I commented on the marvelous array of automobiles outside his home, his family’s fine clothes, the numerous extensions made to his home, and his profession – a high-ranking, marketing consultant – he suddenly pounced, grabbed my shirt collar with both hands (the only shirt I own with sleeves) and started to rant: “I haven’t slept for five days, I’m exhausted working in a damn company I hate, a job I hate, working with people I hate, worrying about bills I’ve to pay for things neither I, nor my family, need! My life’s passing me by ...”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear all this. “But, you look so happy ... your wife ... children.“ His face became scarlet, “DON’T MENTION MY WIFE! First it was dual master bedrooms, then separate houses in the same city, then in separate states, then separate countries, then separate continents. She took all the CDs and DVDs, electrical appliances. You name it, she took it - even my favourite wig made out of horse hair. I've had to buy duplicates of everything. And I used to be so clever, quick witted ...” “Really. I ... I never knew. I.... I mean about your situation."

I fumbled behind me for a can, or an onion slicer. I needed protection - fast. This guy was nuts. Panic and anxiety bounced around in my brain. Not much room, I know, but it’s the only one I’ve got. I grabbed hold of a banana skin and started to regret eating it earlier.

“My wife and I used to see each other once a week, then once a month. Now we’re lucky if it’s once a year. We’ve become Woody and Mia, and I’m not sure which one I am.”

My mind was spinning. “You should live like me. No television, Internet, magazines, shopping. Marketing and advertising are the bane of people’s lives.” I paused for a second. I didn't tell him my cat had only last week bought highly priced cat clothes, food and sex toys on eBay with my credit card - I was cleaned out. My neighbour purred, and beckoned me, with his left eye, to continue. “Perhaps you should go and live in the mountains, the jungle, or Ohio. Away from civilization. Take control of your life again.”

He immediately clamored to his feet. “You’re right ... I think you’re right ... the mountains, the jungle, Ohio ... I need to start packing.” He moved towards the door. I slightly relaxed my grip on the banana skin. With his eyes moving in different directions, he said, “You’ve completely changed my whole outlook. Sitting in the litter tray helped me to reassess my perspective on life. How can I ever repay you?”

As I pushed him out, and engaged the twenty locks and bolts on my front door, I yelled, “Send me the fangs of the first venomous snake that bites you.” I believe I heard him say, “ You’ll get them, buddy. I swear - if it kills me - you’ll get them." I had a feeling he was right.

Reflections: It's our differences that make us interesting, and if we all become the same we are lost. I believe we fail our children if we don’t encourage them to embrace diversity, and to listen and memorise fragments of music, prose and poetry that will echo in their ear throughout their lifetime.