The New Adventures of Mr Stephen Fry » Forum: General Scribblings

The New Adventures of Mr Stephen Fry » Forum: General Scribblings - Recent Topics http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/forum/general-scribblings Just another bbPress community en-US Sat, 11 Feb 2012 19:31:10 +0000 http://bbpress.org/?v=1.0.2 <![CDATA[Search]]> q http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/search.php nanny rabbits on "a poem from someone that can't write anything, let alone poetry" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/a-poem-from-someone-that-cant-write-anything-let-alone-poetry#post-281485 Wed, 08 Feb 2012 21:08:23 +0000 nanny rabbits 281485@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ freshly written. gosh, i'm shy about sharing this -a piece of me! an uneducated, dyslexic with no clues about grammer so here i am wearing a gown of deepest mauve/grey, in mourning still. raw real (manic) else i wouldn't be writing on a forum at all - being a private sort of person. a wallflower ~~~~~~~~~~~~ i don't listen to the words in the other room for fear, for fear yet drawn i am ohhh they are like blossoms of the almond kind silky voiced, hessian voiced, barbed wire voiced a million deliverances drift, drift subtle soft i bolt my heart i bolt it hard no!!!!!!!!!!! blasted voices, blast them to doom crush them underfoot dissolve cruel beauty, dissolve fragile, tender nooooooooo they trick me they cry oh please, don't cry oh my god.....look at them half-transparent as tortured wings the voices are my wings my wings! and i destroyed them ~~~~~~~ Batesy57 on "My Grandma & Her Eternal Metaphors?" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/my-grandma-her-eternal-metaphors#post-278167 Sun, 06 Nov 2011 06:23:52 +0000 Batesy57 278167@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ Grandma! 'What!' 'They told me I’m crazy again, said I’m freaking mad!' 'Why?' 'Because I spoke about my dreams again, of how I think we will one day stand together in silence and feel the real.' 'Feel the real what?' 'Nature! How we might feel the reality of our life here on Earth and what its about? But they tell me I’m just being silly and psychotic again.' I'm standing there now on a moonless night again, alone on a cliff top where I face the stormy sea. Its 3am in the morning and only Blaze, our family dog is beside me. My only company here on this dark and isolated cliff top. I look up now, look towards a milky way sky and Grandma opens her arms again. Of coarse I take that leap of faith, for she will always cradle me in her arms, when ask her. As the first rays of sunlight pierce the dark I wake, I hear the first bird song and feel the heartbeat of my sleeping dog. I rise and shake my head feeling Grandma pat me there, “silly boy,” she says. Moments later as Blaze and I head off to follow the garden path, I think I catch a whisper on the wind, “keep dreaming,” and I wonder if I’m loosing a sense of separation here, I wonder if I’m feeling the reality of a Universe perceiving itself? I know I should focus my attention on objective reality here, keep my mind on obvious and simple needs right before me. Like earning a living and playing my part in the commercial reality of our life sustaining economy. I should keep my focused energies on attaining five percent annual growth, measure my bank balance and count the number of my possession's, those simple solid objects of my hearts desire. What use are the foolish dreams of a raving psychotic, after all? Metaphors? Reminds me of the movie "Blade Runner," and that hopeful ending. What's in a name and what's the meaning of Rachel's termination date? <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?&v=BbKSr3vb32U" rel="nofollow">http://www.youtube.com/watch?&v=BbKSr3vb32U</a> When we objectively observe all those chemicals in the brain, all those neurotransmitters, all those endogenous chemicals that transmit signals from a neuron to a target cell across a synapse. Do they mimic a deeper reality in some way? Are all those chemicals inside us, God's chemical's and are they a reflection of our deep immersion within the very fabric of the cosmos? When we drop beneath the shallow perceptions of our objectified reason, can we not manage to feel the reality of our chemical connection to the Eternal now? From such a felt perspective of life, is human evolution a dream that we're only just remembering and what internal reality is our object like self interpretation really tying to project? What the heaven or hell is my Grandma? What is a true perspective? How wide, how narrow, how deep, how high, how obvious? Sweet Dreams <img src="http://www.stephenfry.com/bb-content/plugins//bb-smilies/default/icon_biggrin.gif" title=":D" class="bb_smilies" /> James_McGregor on "Saying it with pictures" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/saying-it-with-pictures#post-281305 Fri, 03 Feb 2012 22:58:35 +0000 James_McGregor 281305@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ Hi all, Nice to see everyone being creative, and to have a place to do it so freely <img src="http://www.stephenfry.com/bb-content/plugins//bb-smilies/default/icon_smile.gif" title=":-)" class="bb_smilies" /> For me my creativity is something that i try to express with photography, to the end that i have been creating a Noir and a Movie Feel themed couple of sets at my website at <a href="http://www.jmcgregorphotos.co.uk" rel="nofollow">http://www.jmcgregorphotos.co.uk</a> - These sets have been good therapy for me, and say more about me, my situation and my outlook than any number of words that i could write. Thanks for lookin <img src="http://www.stephenfry.com/bb-content/plugins//bb-smilies/default/icon_smile.gif" title=":-)" class="bb_smilies" /> mcelderrypoems on "Straight or gay? (A sonnet)" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/straight-or-gay-a-sonnet#post-281269 Thu, 02 Feb 2012 22:50:27 +0000 mcelderrypoems 281269@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ Mother Night, Mistress Moon When pregnant Night descends, her darkling robe enfolds me softly in its cool embrace and sparkling starry babies fill the globe, while midwife Moon looks on with beaming face. Though daylight fuels my ardour for the Sun, I still cannot resist Night's female charms, seducing me to sleep with her as one, encircling me with restful, dusk silk arms. And while day lord Apollo burns more bright and noon-time's light shines deeper in my eyes, my heart longs for the mystery of Night, the starflecked secrets of nocturnal skies. Sun-warmed or moon-lit, by night or by day, love is just love, it is not straight or gay. tito on "For Nitro! Poetry I should be shot for having the audacity to write" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/for-nitro-poetry-i-should-be-shot-for-having-the-audacity-to-write#post-180885 Sat, 05 Sep 2009 11:23:13 +0000 tito 180885@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ Dearest Nitro. I note recently that you expressed an appreciation for bad poetry and I thought, Hello, that's what I write! Some poems torn from my very soul! Dove He doth fly, by and by, Is white, not fright, but white. He doth flutter, He is peace! He doth fly, Oh, by and by and by. And then he is gone, Life expunged and expelled. He finds himself felled! Dead. Dead. Deaddeaddead. He lies dead. ..................................................................... And for my next. 'Woman' She burgeons. She bludgeons. He lies dead. Dead. Dead. And yet more, dead. ....................................................................... And finally: 'Music of my soul' music is my soul, It flows from my mouth, Which is in my face, And is a hole. My soul sings with music, To hear a note, It floats my boat. I open my mouth and it dribbles forth, It flows free. It lands on my knee. And there lies dead. Dead. And music is dead yet more. Deaddeaddead. Chaoticia on "A fiction novel called Vibrant Night and a side character named Fry." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/a-fiction-novel-called-vibrant-night-and-a-side-character-named-fry#post-281095 Mon, 30 Jan 2012 03:26:38 +0000 Chaoticia 281095@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ I wrote a Gothic/Literary Nonsense/Fantasy novel called Vibrant Night (details below). I had a side character who I ended up naming Fry. Though the character bears no resemblence to Stephen Fry, it fit the sporadic nature of the story and was a literary nod, or bow-- if your reading from Asia then it was a bow. Then again it could've been a Western bow, after all, this is Literary Nonsense. Summary: Lacie is an anxious college Freshman and her roommate is never around. Tuesday seems pretty boring until she finds herself looking at floating donuts in a city plunged in eternal night and vibrant madness. She meets the meek, Gothic employee Elizabeth and naturally, asks her to find a way out. The two travel towards someone known as Herbert who resides inside of the illustrious All-Mart-- but on the way, Elizabeth is kidnapped by a marble-headed man (who is aided by a treadmill). Lacie goes forth into N'quevna with her life on the line, and scope-eyes, and hair that smells like strawberries! The book took me 4 years to write and is mixture of Literary Nonsense, Fantasy, Gothic, Satire, Sci-Fi, Adventure, and Comedy. It was most notably inspired by Hayao Miyazaki, Alice in Wonderland, the synthesis of Gothic Discordianism, and the Shivering Isles expansion of the video game Oblivion; as well as taking an actual town in Southeastern Michigan and turning it into a somewhat dangerous and modernized 'wonderland'. This book can be read for free: On Blogspot.: <a href="http://chaoticia.blogspot.com/search/label/Novel%3A%20Vibrant%20Night" rel="nofollow">http://chaoticia.blogspot.com/search/label/Novel%3A%20Vibrant%20Night</a> On DeviantArt: <a href="http://yourdoom243.deviantart.com/art/Vibrant-Night-Chapter-1-by-Okami-Carroll-267078728" rel="nofollow">http://yourdoom243.deviantart.com/art/Vibrant-Nigh.....-267078728</a> A physical copy of Vibrant Night can be bought here: <a href="https://www.createspace.com/3770699" rel="nofollow">https://www.createspace.com/3770699</a> Thanks for reading. K76 on "Music Box" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/music-box#post-280585 Thu, 19 Jan 2012 22:18:46 +0000 K76 280585@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ The clock in its perpetual motion has purpose, What was once a fleeting glance in a chaotic existence is now a subliminal beat to a deafening mantra.. ‘Find your purpose, use your gift... time is running out’ Chaos, lights, laughter, cheer, drink...freedom, A numbing anaesthetic to the hands of time ....then silence... The throb of pain seeps slowly into the subconscious, ...tick...tick...tick....... What is my purpose? What is my gift? The mantra repeats... What was once a evocative melody from a ethereal music box filled with precious gems of optimism is now decayed by time... ...a chilling, haunting composition with no structure, no substance, Notes distorted, the coarse, bubonic rust consuming the key ..multiplying.... invading.... The once treasured stones waiting to be rediscovered are tainted with neglect sharp dimensions that created a kaleidoscope of change are worn into a sphere of a distorted singular image An image surrounded by shadows. Shadows of former glory, abused, mistreated... The congregation obsessed with the book of fairytale dictates your repentance.. Find a partner, become a ‘family’ No more will you feel unappreciated, no more will you be ostracised.. Fulfil your duty. Procreate.. Another hierarchal addition to an overpopulated planet whilst lesser life falls prey to our self imposed status, Another consumed resource of air, water, plant, earth No more will you question, no more will you objectify ...your gems will be re-discovered through the life of your child... Fresh eyes in which you can right your wrongs, ..or it will finally confirm what you feared all along... dexter vandango on "The Ego, the Super Ego and the Yid" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/the-ego-the-super-ego-and-the-yid#post-279045 Mon, 05 Dec 2011 21:05:29 +0000 dexter vandango 279045@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ ..everybody needs help from time to time.. The Ego, the Super Ego and the Yid The doktor, napping on his couch is startled into waking by a gentle knocking on his door. As he rises his secretary opens the door and ushers in a patient while handing a piece of paper to the doktor. He glances at it.. The Secretary: The doktor will receive you now. Please go right in.. The Doktor: Welcome, Hr… Nobodaddy? .. That’s rather an unusual name, isn’t it? The Patient: Yes.. Yes.. I suppose it is.. The Doktor: And your accent, too.. you’re not Austrian? The Patient: No.. no.. I am sorry to say I am not. It is your reputation and the essence of your work which has brought me to Vienna. The Doktor: I see.. and just how may I help you? The Patient: I have been feeling restless, out of sorts, troubled, Hr. doktor. The Doktor: Well, you are certainly not alone in that.. Hr. No bo.. daddy. We all live in increasingly troubled times.. The Patient: Yes, doktor.. I had considered that. That in a time of chaos, confusion and upheaval one would have to be truly mad not to be plagued by some degree of natural anxiety. But it’s more than that.. To put it simply, for some time I have not been myself. The Doktor: Self..? ..Yes.. self. That is indeed always the great question. …Well, before we begin at the beginning.. which is the natural start to any analysis.. please lie down on my couch and let me ask you a few preliminary questions. I realize it may seem undignified at first, but I find that when my patients recline they tend to more quickly lose some of their initial discomfort at having to reveal personal details to a stranger.. That’s right.. stretch out and take a deep breath.. Now, first of all, how are you sleeping these days? The Patient: Oh, no.. no.. I never sleep. It’s hard to sleep when you can see through your eyelids.. The Doktor: I beg your pardon..? The Patient: I was being ..metaphorical. I simply mean I’m hypersensitive to everything. I hear the slightest sound, babies’ cries in the distance, married couples flinging accusations at each other on all sides. And all the recent rhythmic tromping of marching feet on cobblestones is maddening! The Doktor: Yes.. yes.. our fellow citizens can be most worrying at times.. So you sleep badly.. How is your appetite? The Patient: It seems the older I get the less appetite I have for anything. The Doktor: Even for ..sex…? The Patient: I knew you would get around to sex sooner than later. My interest in sex has always been rather ..detached. As something practical, mechanical. Certainly necessary for reproduction, but no more than that. The Doktor: So, you are telling me you are not troubled by a less than satisfying sex life? The Patient: Exactly. Am I unique in that? The Doktor: Hardly unique. Many patients cling to that allegation.. at first. The Patient: Look, Hr. doktor, I understand perfectly well that if you are to help me I must be as open and as honest as I possibly can – and that I must strive not to sabotage your work with misdirections or purposeful self-deceptions. The Doktor: That’s both very insightful and wise of you, Hr. Nobo..daddy.. The Patient: ..But you must also realize, doktor, that we are all individuals and we all have our limitations. I shall always attempt to be as open and honest as I can be. But don’t expect me to paint a perfect and complete picture of my.. what is it you call it.. my psyche? I doubt if anyone could, least of all me. The Doktor: Fair enough. Self-deception is always the enemy of good mental health, and you seem to want to avoid that. Excellent. Now perhaps it might be helpful if you would describe yourself in a little more detail. Begin anywhere.. The Patient: I am increasingly lonely, restless and worried. I am lonely because I am bitterly aware that I am superior to everyone else.. and restless because.. The Doktor: Please stop for a moment, Hr. You say you are bitterly aware that you are superior to everyone else. In what way superior? The Patient: In every way, Doktor. I see things no one else sees. I hear things, I know why people do the things they do - and the why of it more often than not disappoints me. The more I see what people do the less sympathy I have for them. The Doktor: Well, we are certainly all flawed, Hr. Nobodaddy. But both the Old Testament and the New give some comfort. They tell us it was Adam and Eve’s fault for bringing sin into the world and making it natural. We, their children, are but the unlucky inheritors of that continuing sin. The Patient: Yes, but just what was the sin they brought into the world? Certainly not apple stealing. Some people speculate or slyly claim the forbidden fruit was sex, others say it was fire, still others that it was the sinful discovery that a roasted chicken leg tastes mighty good… The Doktor: But what do you believe yourself? The Patient: Well, there is something to be said for the chicken leg theory. As mankind began to consume animal fat, his brain grew bigger and he became smarter and better at catching more animals, And eating them made his brain even bigger. But eventually the brain stopped growing in size – right at the point before any real wisdom could be developed – and right at the point where so much deviltry could be imagined with those over but still under-developed brains. After all, only a very limited brain could come up with the idea of filling bags with gas and then raining down bombs on people’s homes from those flying gas bags. The Doktor: Well, yes.. but to be fair our brains also enabled us to develop hospitals and medicine, schools and universities, dentistry and in-door plumbing… The Patient: ..and plant leaves wrapped into tubes for the conveyance of foul reeking fumes. Those things are going to kill you, doktor. The Doktor: Tobacco smoke kills germs, I am told, thus preventing the spread of plague and pestilence. At any rate we all have our flaws, weaknesses and idiosyncrasies. Shall we get back to yours? The Patient: By all means.. that’s why I’m here. The Doktor: Let’s return to your stated feelings of superiority. Am I right in sensing that you are only troubled by these feelings as they make you feel lonely and isolated? That you have no grief or moral self-recriminations over feeling superior to others? That your superiority is but a simple and sad fact with unfortunate repercussions? The Patient: Nicely observed, Hr. doktor. My confidence in your analytic abilities grows. But let me ask you a simple question. If the most beautiful woman in the world understood herself to be the most beautiful woman in the world, would you try to give her guilt feelings for that realization? The Doktor: I suppose not. But she ought not to brag about it. The Patient: Fine. Agreed. But please try to delay your moralizing until you can determine if I truly am superior or not. At the moment you seem to be operating out of pure habit and misplaced moralizing. You want me to know that just as no one is perfect no one is superior, either, at least according to your understandable and laudable democratic sentiments. The Doktor: So you do feel yourself to be superior and that particular self-estimation troubles you not a wit. It in no way contributes to your current anxiety? The Patient: Exactly. Not a wit. I am isolated and made lonely by it. But my superiority gives me no feelings of pleasure or guilt. For I did not ask to be created this way. I am what I am. But this realization does not bring me much happiness. The Doktor: And it is mainly happiness you long for? The Patient: Let us rather call it peace of mind. The Doktor: Peace of mind… very good. Shall we proceed from another angle? What is your profession? How do you make your living? The Patient: I am basically a facilitator, an initiator, an investor. The Doktor: Jawohl.. a master of commerce and industry. The Patient: I am industrious, that is certainly true. At least I was for a very long time. The Doktor: But lately your activities have stalled because of your increased introspection and discomfort? The Patient: Not stalled, as I’m as busy as I’ve ever been. But I grow increasingly in doubt as to whether my efforts are not in vain. The Doktor: Some portion of doubt can be a healthy thing. It protects us from danger and hubris. The Patient: Some portion, yes. It would be catastrophic for a parent, for example, to truly believe his offspring are absolutely perfect in every way. Just as it would if he began to believe they were parasites deserving of abandonment. The Doktor: I believe someone said the same thing a bit more succinctly. Children need love most when they least deserve it. The Patient: True enough. But not every spoiled and destructive child has had bad parents. The Doktor: You speak from personal experience? You have children? The Patient: Not directly. I am a guardian to several. Some are grateful and well behaved. Others much less so. The Doktor: But in the final accounting you are mostly disappointed with them? Why? The Patient: Because they seemed to have so much potential. The Doktor: Yes, but what about your own potential? Have you lived up to it to a greater degree than they have? And haven’t their circumstances been different than yours? The Patient: Oh, believe me, doktor, my mixed feelings about my wards are not due to my normal feelings of superiority. I understand the limitations they were handed at birth and I make allowances. I just wish I could sense a greater degree of hope for their future successes. It’s not easy when there are so many signs of impending doom. The Doktor: Yes, but again ..that seems to be part and parcel to the temper of the times. You are not alone in feeling pessimistic on behalf of others. But before we go too far off track and try to cure the ills of the world let’s return to your own private universe.. The Patient: I wasn’t aware we had left it.. but fair enough. The Doktor: I suggest we discuss the difference between satisfied with self ..and self-satisfaction. An individual may well be basically satisfied with himself without succumbing to self-satisfaction, that is to say, the dangerous and often delusional belief.. The Patient: ..that he is.. what? Superior? Are we back on this fruitless avenue of exploration? I repeat.. The Doktor: Yes, yes.. you are comfortable and resigned to your high station above us mere mortals.. but you’ll forgive me if I can’t easily ignore this – let us call it – unusual world and self-view you profess.. The Patient: Are you sure it’s all that unusual? Perhaps I’m merely more honest in my admissions? The world is awash with people apparently suffering from superiority.. what is it you call them? ..complexes. But your assumption is that they are all illegitimate. And the only reason you assume this is to protect your democratic and moral feelings. But have you engaged in scientific measurable research on the subject? No? And why not? Because it is easier to label something as vanity than to measure its actual potency? The Doktor: Potency? You choose the word potency..? The Patient: Oh, here we go again. You seem to have sex on the brain, good doktor. In this context potency was just another word for strength. The Doktor: Yes, but if you had meant strength you would have said strength and.. The Patient: ..And so I seem to have made some sort of revealing… slip of some sort? Do you believe your eager and premature pouncing on this sort of thing will make you famous, Hr. doktor? ..and yes, I said premature.. The Doktor: I would suggest sarcasm is to be avoided as it is a barrier to progress. The Patient: Agreed.. The Doktor: Then let us try a different tack.. Perhaps if we try something I call word association. It may help to unlock your unconscious and reveal to us the source of your anxieties.. The Patient: I have no unconscious.. as you call it.. as I am hyper-aware.. The Doktor: Hyper..? The Patient: Yes.. I believe you German speakers call it Zuuuuuper… The Doktor: I am quite aware of hyper.. as in hyperbole.. but humor me for a moment, Hr. Nobodaddy. Give my little word association a chance. Consider it a game. The first word is.. The Patient: Hot. The Doktor: That’s extraordinary! How did you know? The Patient: Because it’s all too tiresomely predictable. You say hot I say cold you say up I say down you say mother and I say father you say psychoanalysis and I say increasingly likely waste of time.. The Doktor: Hr, Nobodaddy, if you have no faith in my methods..? The Patient: I am a patient patient.. proceed.. The Doktor: Very well.. Please try to describe your ideal world for me. The Patient: Ah, at last and to the point.. Perhaps my entire existence has revolved around my attempt to describe an ideal world to myself. One long dream of a perfect yet evolving reality. The Doktor: Could you.. uh.. be a bit more specific? The Patient: I doubt it, Hr. doktor. Let me say this.. The Doktor: Oh, please pardon me. I hadn’t noticed the time. We’ll have to take this up at our next appointment.. that is to say, should you wish to make one.. The Patient: Are we to stop now? We were just beginning to get somewhere.. The Doktor: Yes, but I have another patient who.. (..knocking at the door. The secretary pops her head in..) The Secretary: Excuse me, Hr. doktor, but your 10 o’clock appointment just now called to cancel. Apparently she has suddenly woken up in a mood too good.. as she put it.. for whining and complaining today.. The Doktor: Fine.. fine. She’ll be back. Keep her regular appointment open for her.. The Secretary: Yes, Hr. doktor.. The Patient: Well, wasn’t that convenient? Now we can continue for another hour.. unless you have something better to do? The Doktor: No. no.. I suppose not. Let us continue. Where were we? The Patient: You were hinting that I am a megalomaniac whose unhappiness arises from having to live in an ungrateful and imperfect world.. The Doktor: Well, I wouldn’t put it so bluntly and inelegantly.. but.. The Patient: ..But you continue to believe that until I learn to have a diminished view of myself I will have little chance of experiencing satisfaction or happiness? And therefore you need to cut me down to size? The Doktor: Gott im himmel.. why do you feel the need to express everything so dramatically? The Patient: Because it is my form of self-expression, dear doktor-on-the-ground. I am interested in the essential and I let the trivial take care of itself. And the essential always seems dramatic. The Doktor: And what is the essential you wish to convey to me about yourself? That your increasing loneliness and alienation from the world has nothing to do with your impressive qualities? That you are comfortable about who you are and uncomfortable about everything else? The Patient: Well.. I didn’t say everything.. but.. The Doktor: ..but what? Either you are perfect and we others are flawed.. or we are all flawed. For if you forgive me, we can’t all be perfect. The Patient: Can’t we? That’s an interesting topic for debate. For if we are all created to do exactly that which we do, then we fulfill our roles perfectly.. The Doktor: You mean some are predestined to be fools, others for genius, some to create, some to destroy? You’ll forgive me if I consider such a construction nothing more than a boring Swiss coo coo clock. The Patient: For once we agree.. although I must admit I find the regularity and ordered madness of the coo coo clock reassuring and soothing.. The Doktor: Yes, they remind us that that much of existence is bizarre. A good lesson perhaps? The Patient: I quite agree. Akin to spotting a man wearing a bad and obvious toupee. It tears at your heart but you laugh none the less. The Doktor: So you have sympathy for your inferiors at the same time you laugh at them? The Patient: Good gracious.. you simply can’t let go of this superior-inferior business. I have never mocked anyone for being, as you call them, my “inferiors,” Nor do I have a condescending sympathy for their weaknesses. Can we please move on to my real problems? The Doktor: By all means. By all means. Please do not become agitated. Let’s return to a better understand of your background. You have siblings? The Patient: Not a one. The Doktor: Aha.. an only child. The Patient: By “aha” you mean a spoiled brat, one used to getting his way unopposed and unchallenged? No to the first description and yes to the second ..with reservations. The Doktor: Reservations? The Patient: I have been ceaselessly opposed and challenged without the slightest effect to my equilibrium or sense of self. The Doktor: And why have these challenges been so ineffective? Is it because the armor that you wear to protect your soul and your dignity is so impenetrable? The Patient: No, simply because they have missed their target. No one has ever been able to insult me or to hurt my feelings because no one has ever understood me. Any vulnerabilities I may have have gone undetected. The Doktor: So you have never been the target of sharp words, hurtful glances, unjustified recriminations? If that is true, Hr. Nobodaddy, you are indeed a lucky individual – and perhaps I should be seeking advice from you? The Patient: It wouldn’t surprise me if you do at some point. People often find me the last source of comfort. The Doktor: Because you are so warm and sympathetic? The Patient: Now now.. doktor.. you said you wanted no sarcasm to taint these sessions… The Doktor: Quite right. I do apologize. My only excuse is that when you are a pioneer in a field, as I am, you must feel your way forward. Nothing can be dogmatic.. yet. The Patient: I believe Jesus felt the same way.. and look how long that lasted. For two thousand years it’s been “raining catechisms and dogmas.” The Doktor: Ha! That’s quite good. I must remember that. The Patient: Sadly it’s a joke that only works in English. The Doktor: Yes, a clumsy and imprecise language that does not lend itself well to humor. But back to our efforts for discovery.. tell me, have you ever been plagued by reoccurring and unpleasant dreams? The Patient: No. Never. The Doktor: Never? Never a disconcerting dream about anything? The Patient: That’s correct. The Doktor: What about reoccurring dreams of a pleasurable nature? The Patient: No, not a one. The Doktor: Come come, my good man. For you are a man. Surely you have experienced the sort of nocturnal dreams in your youth which led to.. The Patient: ..to embarrassment on laundry day? The Doktor: Yes, to put it indelicately. Surely you.. The Patient: All of my emissions have been deliberate I can assure you. As I explained earlier, my lack of sleep can partially explain my lack of dreams, telling or otherwise. Accept my words and move on. The Doktor: Very well. Perhaps we should examine you for oedipal tendencies? How would you characterize your relationship with your mother? The Patient: As non-existent. I have had neither a mother nor father. In short I am an orphan. The Doktor: Aha.. now we’re getting somewhere! The Patient: Are we, hr. doktor? Just where will that naked and singular fact lead us? The Doktor: To a better understanding of the cause of your feeling of uniqueness and alienation. The Patient: Not better.. merely quicker and more obvious. Deceptively obvious. I assure you my current discomfort has nothing to do with a longing or need for parental figures. Please do not waste my time or yours with fruitless probing in areas of no significance. The Doktor: But my dear man, you ask me to imagine you as a being with absolutely nothing in common with anyone else. If I cannot compare you I cannot measure you and arrive at any useful conclusion and therein a plan for improving your state of mind. I cannot work in a vacuum just as you cannot live in one. The Patient: Who says? The Doktor: Ach! Now you’re just being glib and contrary. Abandon this pretense of regal impenetrability or I cannot work with you. The Patient: All right, hr. doktor. You take your limitations seriously and I see now that I must do the same. From now on I will agree to allow you to use the same sort of techniques, assumptions and suppositions you might use on any of your patients. I will not insist on being treated differently. If you do not insist on treading useless paths. Feel free to explore all you wish, but do not lead me and yourself into jungles of misconceptions. Grant me the ability to sense when you are being insightful and when you are merely being rote. Take me as seriously as I will you. The Doktor: At this point please forgive me for commenting that there may well be something seriously wrong with one of us.. and I am not entirely sure it is you. My head is swimming. The Patient: While you recover will you allow me to ask you a question.. or will that fly in the face of your methods? The Doktor: No, go on. Ask away.. The Patient: Has your chosen profession, your calling as it were, given you occasion for moral qualms? The Doktor: In what way? The Patient: You have chosen to make yourself the arbitrator of what is normal and healthy. You feel yourself able to step in and, as it were, interfere with the paths people find themselves traveling. You direct them with the possibility of misdirecting them. Your ego.. or is it your Id or Super Ego.. allows you to try to rearrange their realities. This troubles you not? The Doktor: No.. no.. why should it? I have confidence in my methods. And I transgress no moral boundaries. I am always obliged to do what is best for my patient. Let me give you one example. And this will show you that I am willing to briefly take you at your word and go along with the idea that you are “superior.” I would never discuss this with a “regular” patient. The bare-faced cold-hearted fact is, I do occasionally have patients where after much work my only conclusion has been that suicide would be the best, most logical and only solution to their problems. But do I tell them this? No, because it would be unethical of me. It would be an admission of failure on my part. I make it a point of honor never to give up on a patient! The Patient: Even if.. or until.. he runs out of money? The Doktor: Was that some sort of Jewish jibe, Hr. Nobodaddy? A witty reference to my people’s famous obsession with all things monetary? The Patient: Certainly not! Some of my earliest friends were Jewish! It has been my experience that Jews are interested in money so that they won’t have to be so interested in money. It’s purely self-defensive. The Doktor: I suppose there is some truth to that. The Patient: Yes, and the Gentile has tended to hate the Jew for your supposed intellectual superiority – we have that word again. But without realizing that it is not superior intelligence, it is simply heightened alertness. Your people cannot afford to make mistakes, for the punishments are too great. The Doktor: And sometimes the greatest punishment is when Jews have to listen to the ceaseless complaints against the goyim by other Jews. The Patient: I would imagine it gets tedious. The Doktor: You have no idea. The Patient: But your people do have the best jokes in the world. The Doktor: Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment although I’m not sure it is one. The Patient: It is, believe me, as your jokes always have a deeper point. The Doktor: For example? The Patient: Well, my personal favorite is the one about the Jewish family visiting the seaside. The Doktor: I am not familiar with that one. Austria is a land-locked nation. The Patient: Well, it seems… why do all jokes start with it seems..? curious… anyway, it seems that this family arrives at the seaside, their 5 year old son dressed in a sailor suit with a little sailor hat, his little bucket and shovel in hand. And as his mother and father lay out a blanket and begin to set out their lunch, the little boy wanders too close to the water and a powerful wave grabs him and pulls him out to sea. His mother hears his cries and rushes to the water’s edge. And as neither she nor her husband can swim she shouts up to the heavens, “Please, Dear God, save my little boy! Return him to us!” The Doktor: Go on.. The Patient: No sooner had her words left her lips when another giant wave cast the boy back onto the shore and at her feet. She knelt and embraced him, then quickly turned to look up at the heavens with annoyance and she muttered, “He had a hat!” The Doktor: And for you this joke perfectly illustrates the Jews’ inability to show gratitude.. or the eternal dissatisfaction of women in general? The Patient: No, it illustrates for me that human beings in general are rarely satisfied for more than ten seconds at a time. Or grateful, for that matter. The joke is a warning, as are all Jewish jokes. The Doktor: Thank you for that clarification. I had always regarded jokes as minor annoyances albeit revealing ones. The Patient: You are not fond of laughter and jokes, Hr. Doktor? The Doktor: Experience and a long life have taught me that humor is highly overrated. The theatres, the cafes and nightclubs are full of so called comedians bellowing so-called jokes to a mindless audience eager to have their prejudices confirmed. Laughter is more often than not the sound of a braying and mocking donkey, the ass in his element. It is aggression spewed out. Asked if he had done well, the comedian brags that he has “killed” his audience. Need I say more? The Patient: Well, I admit that laughter is often the substitute for effort. If you can laugh at a problem you feel you have dealt with it and you can move on. But laughter is rarely a cure for any true ills. The Doktor: Precisely. The Patient: But what about the charming, life-affirming laughter of infants? The Doktor: Purely self defense. Their parents are usually throwing them dangerously into the air, or probing their ribs with large hard fingers. Laughter is the same for infants or adults. It signals I am with you. I agree. I am in a good mood. I am harmless. For the wolves, baying at the moon is their laughter. Their solidarity protects them from the lonely night. The Patient: Doktor, as they say in America, you’re a barrel of laughs today. The Doktor: Oh, don’t get me wrong. Humor has its uses and its time and place. Lately I have been deriving much amusement from a fellow Austrian who has taken up residence in Munich. His professed world view is most entertaining. The Patient: But back to why I am here .. me! I am agitated, I am not myself, my doubts grow stronger.. The Doktor: But you allege no major doubts about yourself.. just everyone else? The Patient: But don’t you see, Doktor..? There is no everyone else. We’re all in this together! The Doktor: That sounds vaguely like some sort of eastern mysticism. Are you a Hindu, Hr Nobodaddy.. or perhaps a Buddhist? Do you believe in reincarnation? The Patient: Reincarnation? Don’t be absurd. The notion that an Almighty Creator could find enough energy and atoms to build a universe, but that He had to keep endlessly recycling old used and tainted souls is most illogical. Every soul is here once and once only and then is gone. The Doktor: Into the void? The Patient: The physical parts return to the pot, while the essence, the aroma dissipates forever. The Doktor: You seem certain of this? The Patient: Yes, absolutely. The Doktor: Why? The Patient: Because it is logical and therefore eminently fair. The Doktor: So you are able to pinpoint areas of existence that are fair? The Patient: Well, I suppose that would be stretching it a bit.. but none the less.. The Doktor: But, Hr. Nobodaddy, I remain mystified. Exactly how do you want me to help you? Do you want me to justify the world to you? Do you want to be able to accept the world as it is, or for the world to accept you? Are you anxious to fit in, to stick out? To be obviously exceptional? To be subtly superior? To be respected? What precisely do you long for? The Patient: I long for.. I long for.. fellow beings who do not make me feel ashamed! The Doktor: Ashamed of what? You are ashamed of them? They are ashamed of you? Be specific… The Patient: But I’ve already said it. There is no them and me. There is only us. I am ashamed of us.. the collective reality. The Doktor: Collective.. but surely every man is his own reality, is he not? Is there not free will, the right to choose? The Patient: Yes, yes.. every man has the right to go to heaven or hell in his own way.. The Doktor: You are speaking metaphorically again.. or literally? The Patient: Metaphorically, of course. Heaven and hell are but the carrot and stick to the donkey. ( ..there is a knocking at the door. The secretary pops her head in..) The Secretary: Excuse me, Hr. Doktor.. The Doktor: Is it time for my next appointment? The Secretary: No, Hr. doktor. He has cancelled, too. He says he’s just won the lottery and so he is rushing out to buy an automobile.. The Patient: And they say you can’t buy happiness. I don’t imagine you’ll be seeing him for a while, Hr. Doktor.. The Doktor: No, not until he spends all his winnings on benzin and sacher tort cakes. Then he’ll be back begging for free consultations. The Patient: Cakes are a common weakness in these parts? The Doktor: To such a degree I had to have that couch reinforced.. but I reveal too much.. (consults watch) ..well, I suppose if you wish to continue we can converse until noon. Then I must have my lunch. The Patient: You will have an appetite? The Doktor: Why shouldn’t I? The Patient: You keep rubbing your jaw. I assumed the pain makes chewing difficult.. The Doktor: No matter. It is but a minor annoyance that comes and goes. The Patient: And the curative powers of your cigars offer no relief? The Doktor: I thought you wanted to bring the conversation back to you? Let me say at this point a thorough and useful analysis takes time. Sometimes many weeks, sometimes many years. So I have learned to be a patient man and I hope you will be as well. But I must say, that while our bantering is most amusing and pleasurable for the most part, we waste valuable time on philosophizing and generalities. I suggest we stick to specifics – to you and not to the entire scope of existence. The Patient: Fair enough. I will seek to limit my comments to myself. As the Texan once said, “I don’t wanna own all the land in the world. Just the parts touching mine.” The Doktor: Ach! More jokes, more evasions. I grow restive. You say you respect my analytical abilities, yet you repeatedly skirt my boundaries, ignore my guidance.. and you try to modify my methods. This won’t do, Hr. Nobodaddy. The Patient: Yes, yes.. forgive me, Hr. Doktor. But in all fairness how can I know where your boundaries lie before I actually trespass them? The Doktor: Hopefully you’ve begun to sense the demarcations? Without order there is no structure and without structured guidelines we stumble blindly in the dark. The Patient: Stumbling blindly in the dark? Isn’t that an apt description for all existence? The Doktor: Possibly, but they say the good Lord provides illumination if you look in the right direction. In the same way, you and I, Hr. Nobodaddy, working together will attempt to illuminate the murky corners of your psyche. Now, again to specifics… tell me about your childhood.. The Patient: What is there to say? It was the typical childhood of the orphan. I had no brothers or sisters. I had no like-minded playmates, I had no one who could relate to my background or my doubts and dilemmas. The Doktor: And so you were lonely? The Patient: One would think so.. but I was contented enough in the beginning. Everything was so new and I had nothing to compare my existence to. It was normal and natural. One cannot be envious or discontented if one cannot compare oneself with others. I was yet to meet many others so I was slow to learn much about them. Later, the older I got the more the feeling of isolation and disappointment set in. The Doktor: So the more you came into contact with others the more they disappointed you? Why? Because your standards were so high? Perhaps unreasonably so? The Patient: Perhaps. But what I grew increasingly to long for were signs of worth. I hoped to see stronger signs of intelligence. Of integrity. Of signs of some sort of nobility from even the most humble of birth. That so few respected me was no shock. It was logical, given their limited insights into themselves. Why should they understand or respect me when they couldn’t understand or respect themselves? No, I was more bothered by my increasing inability to forgive their limitations. I knew full well they were mere mortals, flawed in design from birth, but none the less I held it against them. And I hated myself for my impatience. The Doktor: And once you passed adolescence, this attitude settled into habit.. or did it grow worse? The Patient: It grows worse with each passing day. That is what I’m trying to tell you, good Doktor. It builds and it builds and it builds. I fear one day I will explode from all my festering disappointment. The Doktor: Disappointment or envy? Is it possible you resent all of humanity out of envy? The Patient: What? What am I to be envious of? The Doktor: Well, you must have noticed that many of your “lessers” are happier than you are. Not a small number may be more respected. Many of them may have more than a handful of good friends. Wouldn’t that invite envy, conscious or unconscious? And have you noticed that stupid people are often the happiest? The Patient: For the first, let me repeat. Although I consider myself to be superior to others, it does not mean I consider them lesser. We all contribute. We all have our parts to play. The Doktor: But they have not been holding up their end in your common universe. Their meager contributions sadden and disappoint you? The Patient: I fear it is so. Despite my best efforts to view the world from different angles, to take into account context and repercussions I am still disappointed. The Doktor: And I am perplexed. Yes, perplexed is the right word. The Patient: Perplexed by what exactly? The Doktor: You seem to waffle. You bounce back and forth. You say it is other people, it is humanity that is the cause of your discontent. Then you deny it and claim you are solely the cause of your own discontent ..because of your growing intolerance. Which is it? The Patient: Perhaps both and neither. I realize that, just as the father cannot take full credit for the successes of his children, he can equally not be required to take full blame for their misdeeds. But there is culpability. The Doktor: And so the whole of humanity is like a flock of wayward children being observed by the baleful eye of the father – by you? The Patient: Yes… metaphorically speaking. The Doktor: Your metaphors are less helpful than you intend. I am an adult. I do not require homilies, parables or metaphors. Dispense with the condescension. The Patient: Easy for you to say. If I hadn’t initiated some form of descension I wouldn’t be lying on your reinforced couch right now. Humor me in this, good Doktor. (..there is a commotion at the door.) The Secretary: You mustn’t go in there… stop! Hr doktor.. this.. this ..gentleman insists on barging in.. The Patient: What are you doing here? Bub: I could very well ask you the same thing, brother. The Doktor: Brother? I thought you said you were an only child? The Patient: I am.. he is but a distant relative of sorts. Bub: Distant? How you wound me, dear brother. If I am distant it is because you keep me at arm’s length. Hr. Doktor, the simple sad fact is that he is ashamed of me. No, don’t deny it. You are ashamed of me. The Patient: If I am ashamed of you it is no doubt because you are not. You are proud of the miserable thing you have become. Bub: More harsh words? I can see my brother is indeed agitated and out of sorts. The Doktor: Pardon me, but who are you exactly and why are you here? Bub: Call me Bub. The Doktor: Bub? Bub: Yes.. it’s short for ..Bubba.. a nickname the locals have given me. I normally reside in America’s deep south or in the south of Germany. One should always reside where one feels most at home, don’t you think? The Doktor: ..but you are here now.. because..? Bub: Well, to be quite honest I am here because I’m afraid my brother is going to get all weepy and blubbery and he will eventually reveal our family secrets. That would be.. unfortunate. The Patient: He is not my brother! Bub: Brother.. cousin.. great aunt..? what is the difference? If you deny my existence you deny part of yourself. The Doktor: Look, Hr ..Bub. I really must ask you to leave. If you have something on your mind, if you are plagued by personal problems, grievances.. I suggest you make an appointment with my secretary. The Patient: Yes, vanish.. return to your old haunts and leave us to our business.. Bub: An appointment with your secretary? But I already have one. In fact we’re dining together tonight. The Doktor: What? What nonsense are you spewing? (opens the door) Freulein Hapsdorff, this.. this.. gentleman claims.. Bub: That you and I have a date for dinner. Please tell the good doktor it is so. The Secretary: (..as if hypnotized) Yes.. yes.. it is so.. a date for dinner.. Bub: I’ll pick you up at 8.. wear something flimsy.. and have all your appetites functioning. The Secretary: Yes.. yes, sir.. something flimsy.. The Patient: You see how he is, Hr. doktor! Manipulative! Exploiting! He cares nothing for others. Only for his own brief amusements! Bub: But brother, isn’t that what all of existence is? A series of brief amusements between periods of hideous suffering and loneliness? Celebrate them! Learn to enjoy the contradictions and the paradoxes.. the absurdities that make up life. The Patient: Ha! You call your pathetic existence a life? I call it an adolescent descent into self-indulgence. Your sarcasm and your naughtiness are both juvenile and infantile. The Doktor: Look, you two.. I am not here to referee a family squabble.. I.. Bub: Infantile? Juvenile? Your words only serve to show your age, dear brother. It is you who is decrepit, worn out, timid and defeated. It is you, now feeling obsolete, that feels the need to consult this trickster from the Levant, in hope of solace.. and what? A bowl of chicken soup and a shawl? The Doktor: Look, Bub.. I may be surrounded by a sea of anti-Semitism.. but I will not have it in my office! Bub: You misunderstand me, good Doktor. I am not in the least bit anti-Semitic.. The Patient: That part is correct.. he is anti-everybody.. and every thing. To him even matter and energy are an insult.. Bub: Are they not? Before them everything was so quiet and peaceful. One could hear one’s own thoughts. Absolutely nothing interrupted or disturbed one’s contemplation.. The Patient: Yes, your contemplation of only and solely yourself! Bub: And why not? I contemplate,, therefore I am. Why should I have to contemplate you or anybody else just because you insist on intruding.. ..on being? The Doktor: May I remind you, Hr. Bub that you are the intruder here. I repeat, if you wish to make.. Bub: Rabbi.. excuse me.. Doktor.. if I wish to do anything I am doing it. I am telling my brother that his weeping, that his wringing of his hands, and the baring of his so-called soul, is unseemly, cowardly, repulsive.. and against the rules. The Doktor: Rules? What rules? Bub: Let him tell you.. if he dares.. The Patient: There are no rules. That is perhaps the very reason I consulted you in the first place, Hr. doktor. There are no rules and because of this I was feeling lost for a moment and in need of guidance. Or at least in need of a different perspective, a different way of looking at things. Bub: And you thought this swindler.. with his penis envy and everybody wants to schtup their mommy to spite daddy.. you thought he might help? You’ve grown senile and pathetic. Shame! Shame on you! The Patient: You’re a fine one to use the word shame. You’re incapable of feeling it, yet you love to cast it at others. You tempt and tease and then you leave your victims with a bad taste in their mouths. Bub: (to the Doktor) True. Every word of it. But they are left having been entertained and energized. They feel gusto, they have been daring.. they have tasted.. The Doktor: Oh, dear. Have we come back to the forbidden fruit again? Have you been eavesdropping at the door, Hr. Bub? The Patient: He is ceaselessly intrusive and treacherous! Bub: Now now, brother.. you say that as if it were a bad thing. Admit that you also have a fondness for me. That you need me. That you secretly respect my independence and basic honesty.. The Patient: Never! You are a blot.. a stain! A fart after a large cabbage dinner! You leave a stench wherever you travel. You.. The Doktor: Gentlemen.. gentlemen.. please. I hadn’t planned this to be some sort of ..of.. group therapy session… the very idea is an analytical sacrilege and sends shivers down my spine! But if you insist on trying to bring your differences to the forefront.. if you insist on confronting your demons here.. I must insist on.. The Patient: I am the only one confronting a demon here. Or more correctly, he has come to confront me. Bub: More unkind words.. but true enough. The Doktor: Listen to me. It is more than obvious to me that you two – brothers or not – share a long standing conflict, an interminable feud of some sort. I see this every day with my patients. If they are not at odds only with themselves they are at odds with numerous others, too. One exercise I often use, as it sometimes proves fruitful, is to ask this: tell me one good thing about your tormentor, your opposing part. Just one good thing.. The Patient: Impossible! Bub: Actually this sounds like fun. Let me go first. I think ..that my big brother is optimistic.. if naïve.. The Doktor: Shall we stick to the positive? No compliments given with one hand and then taken back with the other. Your ..er.. brother is optimistic? Bub: Yes.. endlessly.. or so I had thought. He has always believed against any and all evidence that life was worth living, people are more good than bad, honesty is the best policy. Even that there is a bit more justice in the world than bitter truths. The Patient: An exaggeration! I am for the most part.. neutral. The Doktor: But Hr. Nobodaddy, you react as if your brother has insulted you. What’s wrong with being optimistic? Just because he implies it is naïve does not make it so. The Patient: He implies that optimism is immature and childish. Bub: Your words not mine. The Patient: You already said not more than 183 seconds ago that I was naïve. Did he not, Hr. Doktor? Bubs: Perhaps.. but then again I say so many things. You always get bogged down in details. You are emasculated by facts, bound and imprisoned by antiquated moralizing. The Doktor: Gentlemen, please! Back to the positive. No more recriminations. Hr. Nobodaddy, are you quite sure that you, with your superior wisdom.. The Patient: Now who’s being sarcastic..? The Doktor: ..that you with your.. whatever. Can you not find one single positive thing to say about your ..er little brother? Think.. there must be something.. although I’m sure it’s well concealed.. The Patient: Well.. he is never boring. He is generally well dressed. He is theatrical, overly so for my tastes, but his followers seem to enjoy that about him. The Doktor: His followers? The Patient: Yes, he is deeply engaged in politics. The Doktor: Oh, dear.. you are not one of those villainous brown shirts, are you? Bub: I am a member of no club, fraternity or conspiracy of morons. I do not conspire.. I inspire from… the outside. And my color of preference is red. The Doktor: A communist then? Bub: Haven’t you been listening, doktor? I am not an optimist and I do not believe in the perfection of politics and mankind. I am the eternal skeptic. The Doktor: Perhaps. Perhaps. But it has frequently been my experience that those who call themselves skeptics are also those too lazy to do anything about anything. They do not take part. They do not contribute because they can’t be bothered. Not because they see any true wisdom in eternal scoffing. The Patient: You’ve described him to a T! The eternal scoffer! The turd in the punch bowl! Bub: I may be the turd in the punchbowl but you’d forbid the punch! You’re the eternal killjoy. Moderation in everything. Balance. Just enough of this and just enough of that. You’re what someone in Baltimore once said of the Puritans, You’re constantly afraid that someone somewhere may be having fun! The Patient: (defensively) That’s not true. I like fun. I know how to have fun. Bub: Yes? Then please tell us when was the last time you had any fun. This week? This month? This century? What form of fun? The Doktor: I’d be curious to hear the answer myself.. The Patient: I.. I.. enjoy watching beautiful sunsets.. I.. Bub: Listen to him.. it’s like Methuselah on roller skates.. wheee! The Doktor: Sssshhh... Mocking is counterproductive. Give him a chance to explain himself. Go ahead.. we’re listening.. The Patient: This is ridiculous! In the first place I have better things to do than have fun. I have respons-ibilities.. obligations.. but you wouldn’t know anything about that? No, you’re too busy running around, encouraging people to put their fingers into mousetraps and electric fans.. and other less savory places.. for the sheer fun of it! Bub: Guilty as charged! And just why do you think I encourage people to be curious, to take chances? So that they can truly feel alive for once! In your perfect world no one ever takes risks, makes mistakes, suffers or benefits – from anything! Castration is the ideal condition. Impotency and sterility. No stains. No spots. No chancres, no love bites left on adolescent necks! The Patient: Not true! I am no prude! But.. everything in its time and place.. Bub: Yes.. moderation.. that is always your answer. Everything regulated and sensible and practical. Nothing is spontaneous. Nothing is explosively liberating. Nothing transcends and exalts. Everything is to be ordered, like the rhythm of the tides and the swallows’ dependable return to Capistrano. The Doktor: Capi..where? Bub: A guano depository in southern California. An obscure reference, it appears.. The Patient: And what about you? The crusading Prince of chaos? The salivating advocate of anarchy, division, debauchery..? Bub: (whispered aside to the doktor) Again.. guilty as charged.. The Patient: Look at him! Listen to him! He positively revels in his bad boy reputation! He’s proud of his immaturity and irresponsibility! Bub: Yes, that’s exactly what I do, big brother. I positively revel. I encourage the living of life to the fullest, while you advocate fear. Fear and ossifying moderation as the guidelines to a jollier existence. Bah! Enough of your tired old grandmotherly virtues! The Doktor: You will excuse me for saying this.. but there was nothing wrong with my grandmother’s virtues. She was a level-headed and good-hearted woman, strict but fair and forgiving. What more could you want? The Patient: Yes, she was! (notices the Doktor’s confused look) ..or so it appears from your obviously fine upbringing. Bub: Level-headed? Good-hearted? Possibly... But was she any good in bed? Doktor and Patient: WHAAAT? Bub: You heard me. Was your grandmother any good in bed? Or was she wise and warm and generous in every area that doesn’t really count? The Doktor: Mein gott! The Patient: You see what I have to put up with? He’s hopeless! The Doktor: Enough! Enough! Please leave my office! My head is swimming! I need to lie down. Come back some other day.. or some other year. Out! Out with the both of you! The Patient: This is all your fault! Bub: My fault? I was open, honest. I tried... The Doktor: Out! Get out! Vanish from these premises! (After he closes the door behind them he lies down on the couch, closing his eyes and trying to compose himself.) The Doktor: I should have gone into the wool business like my father.. (He dozes off and continues sleeping for a few moments until his secretary gently knocks on the door and pops her head in.) The Secretary: Hr. Doktor. I am about to go home for the day. Before I go is there anything you require? The Doktor: Did those last two patients leave a forwarding address? If so send them two bills. I’m not giving those meshugenahs two consultations for the price of one. The Secretary: I’m sorry, Hr. doktor? What two patients? The Doktor: The two noisy ones who left not too many minutes ago.. Hr. Nobodaddy and.. and.. The Secretary; Who? I saw no one. I was at my desk all day. You had nothing but cancellations, remember? And you spent most of your time.. er.. forgive me.. napping. Perhaps you dreamed..? The Doktor: Dreamed! Gott im himmel.. (she breaks into giggles) The Secretary; Oh, Hr. Doktor.. you are so easy to make the fooling with. I joke.. I joke. Hr. Nobodaddy and his brother are staying at the Grand hotel. But they have already paid in full. Both of them. The Doktor: …Will they.. will they be back..? The Secretary: I’m sure I don’t know.. Doktor, what do you think of my new dress? I bought it on my lunch hour. (she holds up a frock.) The Doktor: It looks.. flimsy.. The Secretary: (she giggles) Yes.. doesn’t it..? Auf wiedersehen, Hr. doktor.. see you on Monday. The Doktor: (still dazed) …Yes, Auf wiedersehen.. and bon appetit.. (end) By Dexter VanDango 2011 the teenage philosopher on "DOES GOD EXIST?, RELIGIOUS TOLERANCE, RESPECT AND OTHER TOPICS" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/does-god-exist-religious-tolerance-respect-and-other-topics#post-190033 Sat, 03 Oct 2009 06:27:39 +0000 the teenage philosopher 190033@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ this is not a statement of my beleifs in total but a rambling laced with my beliefs well a god or gods in any form may or may not exist. it doesnt matter,what matters is that we as human beings share the love and compassion for each other that makes us amazing as human beings and one of the best things about human beings has to be its shared consciousness that makes us try to maintain our own fellow human beings lives. and when faced withthis you have to disregard all the oppression or the hatred because we are all the same mind with different parts saying one thing compared to another. its hard to beleive in a now existing god though as he once had bach and micheal angelo on his side now he has preists who sexually abuse altar boys (not a rose tinted view of the past). so if god did exist i say he has withered and died after completing his task of allowing human beings the power to co-exist peacefully and it is simply that we have not embraced that power. i came across the argument by a teacher at a catholic school as a 6 year old that the fact the trees are so easy to digest if u will through the eye then that is proof of god to which i responded "thats bullshit, its more likely we have adapted to see the tree clearly and more easily over time" this was a clear indication early on of organised religions power over people and i suppose the argument of god being man made is that religion has controled women for thousands of years. people say the divine fire is in us as humans well i say that maybe we are the divine fire in that we are made in th eimage of god(so christianity for one believes) then surely we resemble god so we must be partly god, especially if we are his children. so if god is all knowing and powerfull and we are partly god then we must be at least partly all knowing and partly all powerfull except you cant be partly all powerfull so we must b e all powerfull and all knowing, so we are god. i have been asked what my religion is and i would say it is this..... reason and understanding. we as humans should never apolagise for what we are as flawed human beings but we should apolagise for our actions when they have a negative effect on someone or something. "AMERICA IS A CHRISTIAN NATION" well its not actually. i shalll qoute the constitution "as the government of america is not in any way founded on the christian religion". why respect the dead or my elders? i have known many evil elderly poeple. i shouldnt respect them just because they have been here longer than me. granted they have had more time to develop their beleifs but that doesnt make them more important than mine and i beleive respect should be earned. also why respect the dead? i am sure there are many dead idiots or evil people. again just so people dont get offended when i say something about there dead freind or family memeber doesnt mean i am wrong it means i maybe a prick but my point remains. also on th eoffence issue i hate it when people say "but i find that offensive" well so fucking what! just because you deecided to say a statement that doesnt have a purpose except to tell me something doesnt mean i will stop. thats just a whine for fuck sake. as if saying that gives you rights to decide on wether i am allowed to state my views. i dont know where this is leading but i had to say this somewhere ronin4 on "Help I want to be ScriptWriter :)" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/help-i-want-to-be-scriptwriter#post-266909 Mon, 14 Mar 2011 16:14:24 +0000 ronin4 266909@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ Hi Ive been trawling the web for a few hours as I once again contemplate trying to become a writer. I suffer from Schizo-Affective Personality Disorder (or so they say <img src="http://www.stephenfry.com/bb-content/plugins//bb-smilies/default/icon_wink.gif" title=":wink:" class="bb_smilies" /> ) and find sitting in a lecture for 30 minutes, never mind 2 hours unbearable. So I have been looking for a distance learing course I could do, but most seem to be in America or elsewhere, can anyone recommmend or comment on Distance learning for SCriptwriting? I feel swamped by all the stuff google brings up and get no support from my CMHTeam for everyday live, never mind a hobby pursuit. Its what I want to write about first (original I know) but I want to write about the experience I have had on the NHS over the last 10yrs from Hospitals to CPNs, to MPs and Social Workers. Does anyone know how I even get started, I wonder if at 35 y/o I am wating my time and should try and get a parttime job, but still dont feel ready for being around people, never mind working. Any help would be much appreciated <img src="http://www.stephenfry.com/bb-content/plugins//bb-smilies/default/icon_smile.gif" title=":)" class="bb_smilies" /> Thansk Rod <img src="http://www.stephenfry.com/bb-content/plugins//bb-smilies/default/icon_smile.gif" title=":)" class="bb_smilies" /> BETHMEREDITH on "MY ATTEMPT AT A POEM (L.S.D)" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/my-attempt-at-a-poem-lsd#post-279525 Mon, 19 Dec 2011 13:36:42 +0000 BETHMEREDITH 279525@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ Did you ever think i cared? Throwing your life away like an old tin can. It was messing with your mind , couldn't you see it was so unkind sometimes i could see a glimpse from behind your mask. some many questions i needed to ask,but only one could pass my lips "has it all been worth it"? throwing you life away like that was so selfish. But then that was just like you. Zeravia on "just ducking around really..." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/just-ducking-around-really#post-279413 Sat, 17 Dec 2011 00:10:12 +0000 Zeravia 279413@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ this is a rather old poem of mind when i was rather depressed.... Lines of love blurred, Through odium’s hatred slurred. Only fates know, What we do we sow, time will heal all hurts but one. For time holds the handle of this gun. This empty space inside my heart, You left me with at the start, This task at hand will not die. I have told you before, I didn't lie. This test for you, you said before. How can you not be ardor? This trap of art has your mind, Now you sleep with your own kind. Our paths will meat once more. In nightmares distant shore… You say you will wait, but in the end, Will it be to the void, me, you will send? Sappho on "With Apologies to Gilbert and Sullivan." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/with-apologies-to-gilbert-and-sullivan#post-278173 Sun, 06 Nov 2011 14:52:52 +0000 Sappho 278173@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ I am the very model of our modern moral consequence I will inflame and fluster all and one who seek for common sense. Confuse the undecided that are perched upon their pretty fence. Yet suffer all the fools who would but think that they are not so dense. And should you find my modern morals raise your ire and make you tense. Remember that I can and do without the fear of recompense. To help me to persuade you I have mastered all the arts of spin But like some others I am not fevered fan of deathly din. I merely meekly wish to bring the world to its modernity And keep it there with warts and all for ever… that’s eternity! And whilst this will inflame and fluster all of you with common sense, I am the very model of our modern moral consequence. dexter vandango on "What does it mean..." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/what-does-it-mean#post-279229 Sun, 11 Dec 2011 11:22:30 +0000 dexter vandango 279229@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ ..when your submission icon remains gray at the left for weeks, instead of red? That you submission hasn't been approved and made visible to others??? MarkyHealy on "1st Attempt At An Epic Poem" http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/1st-attempt-at-an-epic-poem#post-278305 Thu, 10 Nov 2011 21:03:43 +0000 MarkyHealy 278305@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ THE JOURNEY TO DARK OF SAMUEL HARDY ----------------------------------- Samuel Hardy woke in the dark, From wine his head asunder, He donned his wig and silken sark, Tucking black locks thereunder; On horseback Sam Hardy left his abode, His dog followed at heel, ‘Come little dog’ and on they rode, Their demeanour falsely genteel. -- On Cantell they did fall one weekly eve, A town of poor and downtrod, Samuel smiled, ‘Its here we will feed, And sell these folks a new god’; To the end of the town Samuel did ride, Spilling some coin from his bag, The townsfolk did clamber and scratch in the mud, Kicked up by the shoes of his nag. -- His sonorous voice did capture their ears, As he spoke of what was to come, He cleverly played upon all their fears, Their weakened minds were won; ‘You’ll make silver and gold’ he pledged to the proles, His silver tongue did entice, ‘Of you I’ll make bold and save your souls, But first lets speak of my price’. -- Too quick to agree to Samuels demands, They gave him all he asked, Samuel inwardly rubbing his hands, As their sewan he amassed; ‘Tell us the way’ the crowd did sound, Eager Sam’s words to invoke, A cloud it descended over the town, The darkness inside did provoke. -- ‘Now listen ye all for this ye must do, If this god ye adore , The weak of the town ye must kill, And feed on their innards and gore’; A gasp it arose from the listening throng, As the abstracts arose in their minds, Then suspicion and fear from the old and the young, Dark eyes of the crowd them did find. -- An orgy of murder did quickly ensue, As the bodies of timid expired, Hearts were cut out as the madness grew, True evil that Sam had inspired; ‘We’ll made silver and gold’ the people did sing, As they sipped on gourded wine, ‘Of us you’ll make bold’ they danced in a ring, On the hearts of the weak they did dine. -- When the meek and the mild had all been culled, The rest turned on one another, From the fusillade red none were lulled, Father, son, sister, brother; Soon all were dead as the red blood smelled, On the silent streets of poor Cantell, Through the sharp wind the angelus bell’d, ‘Now time to move on’ said Samuel. -- Samuel Hardy continued his quest, Spreading word and death where he coursed, They rode far and long into the west, Many people from their lives were quick’ divorced; Sam’s pockets ‘came deeper from all the money, His eyes grew black and frowned, Belly distended from beer and honey, His dog a rabid hound. -- Tired from travel they slept. -- Awake at the dawn Samuel confused, For his skin seemed tight, his eyes sharply bemused, ‘There’s something amiss’ he said scratching his head, ‘Things have changed since I went to bed, How curious, how strange, how oddly fantastic, My skin has regained its natural elastic, My hair is now full and my abdomen flat, My behind has lost its gelatine fat!’ -- Even his dog now pranced around, No longer the drooling snarling hound, ‘Come here little dog and let us rejoice’, And they sang a sweet tune in a unified voice, Even his thoughts were light and agreeable, ‘What a turn of events, this was not foreseeable, That the fountain of youth I seem to have found, By sleeping here on this rocky ground’ -- When all of a sudden came a ghostly fist, Grabbing Sam’s throat, stifling breath with strong wrist, He tried to break free from this unknown assassin, But the more he struggled tighter fingers did fasten, ‘Samuel son of mine’ a voice it boomed, From his toes to his tips the voice it consumed, ‘Your life is now over, you’re in my hands, For once you will listen to another’s demands’. -- The voice continued unabated, Its intent and desire distinctly unsated, Samuel wished for his life to be ended, Realising twas better than t’be apprehended, ‘You’re right Samuel, to be afraid, But what’s to come you cannot evade, Your life thus far has brought nought but hell, But now that which you marr’d you must now make well’. -- ‘Your improved appearance is not for your gain, But so that others will welcome to their domain, You and your dog to then renew, The people’s faith in life, two by two, So back to Cantell you now must go, Via the eastern plains plateau, That first you can see your evil destruction, A starting point high for your deconstruction’. -- So off they went obediently east, Their fear and fright not nearly ceased, Slowly they walked unsure of heel, Not quite sure if what happened was real, ‘Cept for the marks on Sam’s neck which throbbing did act, With their drops of blood and bruises blacked, That his life as he knew it was firmly past, And what was to come would sharply contrast. -- The plateaux they climbed as before told, Overlooking Cantell Sam’s blood ran cold, Where before he had seen fools and soft quintain, He now saw blood death and pain, ‘Damn and curse this new perspective, Have my eyes become defective, Is this hell truly my fault? To this world’s wounds am I the salt?’ -- ‘Yes you are’ the voice did return, Causing Sam’s innards to toil and churn, ‘Your education is now complete, For you will not return to Cantell’s streets, Your realisation is all I was after,’ The voice boomed with Homeric laughter, ‘Now that you evil has been declared, For your painful death now you are prepared’. -- ‘But what of my healing as you said?, To repay the people I had bled, To restore my soul from its fate, To revive the lives I did desecrate, And what use of this body you have granted, To employ for those works above incanted, To birth this new realisation, That my life as past was an abomination?’ -- The voice just laughed. -- ‘You were lulled to think you were given, A second chance of proper living, Which makes this act of your death, By allowing you one last breath, A most shocking lesson, a modern sermon, So that people that follow can only determine, That evil begets evil and eclipses the good, And those that do deliberate evil must be expired, Not understood.’ -- Sam did not cry or wail or flee, He stood there and nodded and politely agreed, ‘You’re right o voice, in what you have said, That folk such as me are better off dead, For the good of the world, This tale has unfurled, And as I die I lament, Those pitiful lives I did discontent.’ -- At this point my reader I sense you expect, Some form of redemption, a chance to reflect, No matter what we do there remains the favour, Of righting our wrongs, appeasing a saviour, But this here tale it has no such ending, As Samuels death is truly impending, So as we reach the inevitable twist, Do not expect deliverance for our protagonist. -- The voice’s hand reached out to Sam, Once more grabbed his neck in a vice like clam, And as his last cold breath made a requiem arc, Samuel Hardy awoke in the dark. --------------------------------