As God Cries

As God Cries ©

By

Michael Casey

Well its 5^th April 2018, and the Russian Spy Poisoning Saga continues, as London beats New York for Murders. So I wondered should I comment or write a Poem of Lament, would sarcasm work, would oceans of tears help, would David Lammy be a magician and help his constituency beat the evil that is swirling around. We also have a 78 year old man have 2 burglars in the night, and one burglar died, the other one drove off in his van. So the news is all very sad.

I have my own bitter sweet news happening too, which hopefully will have a happy ending, with the help of God and two Policeman. They say you should used the Augustinian method when sorting out problems, or 360 degrees appraisal, but how does God feel? As I talk Rainbow sing Bless Me, Bless Me.

So I’m doing to try and see God’s point of view, voiced by me. Though some will call this heretical, so I’ll say to them GROW UP. Which may be what God might say.

I cried for Mother Russia when the Nazi pure evil poured over your land, Mary prayed for you constantly as you all shivered in the cold. I understood when you freed all the East why you wanted a buffer zone after what Hitler had done to you.

I can understand the strengths and values and the nobility of hope, the anti-Nazi hope, and I can see the oh so Liberal West. But children my children when did you sell your soul? Why did you not understand that sharing is Christian and all other Faiths believe in sharing and looking after the weak. This Communism started as a freedom of the spirit, freedom from tyranny, very noble, the angels all applauded. But then it all went wrong, one master was replaced by another hypocritical master.

What happened to my churches, freedom to believe, the only belief was unbelief. And what did that lead to, to sadness and lack of joy. Cheating at Sport, which was touted as the new religion, we must cheat at sport to make the masses proud. You think the people are cattle and treat them like that, to be milked. Then the riches are sold off to people who desert mother Russia, no wonder people make less and less babies. Less children is a sure sign of unhappiness. And Mary cries, she is crying, Mary cries because she loves Mother Russia.

Man makes more weapons, more ways to destroy this Eden created for you all to share. North Korea should sing more, and make toys, real toys, not threaten everybody. I weep tears, oceans of tears, the angels are distraught. What has become of my children, all my children. My tears join the oceans, as the Polar caps melt, all because of greed not need. Polar bears keep me company as I walk on this Good Earth, my joy, which I created for my children, all my children to share.

Famines rage and nobody cares, the Angels cry and whales lament with their songs, in harmony Angels and whales lament. Its too much for the whales so in their sorrow they are beached, their songs of sorrow drive them mad.

In the Americas which began with so much hope when Columbus set sail has just broken my heart even more. Drugs pollute peoples veins, and its such a crying shame.Mary holds the hands of the dying and those trying to break free from all this poison, even more tears does she shed. Then over the Border a man who would could be a Caesar is spitting and looking in the mirror of popular tv, while the whole world looks on at all his many calamities. Vanity oh Vanity, where is real Christian charity?

Spite seems to be the keyword, Love and Charity are abandoned and where is Hope. Where is the Love, it seems to be hidden under a bushel, and not a grain of rice is shared, no bread is baked nor broken any more.

Maybe God is dead, maybe I’m talking to myself, there are no people, my Creation does not exist. Should I make it all disappear? Do such people deserve any Hope?

Yet, I hear prayers, I hear tiny tiny whispers, somebody prayed that that Russian girl poisoned should live. Why because she had the same name as a man’s mother, for no other reason than that. Perhaps more prayers will emerge from the Dark, prayers of hope and love, perhaps people will realise that even God can run out of patience. God’s Omega will eventually sound an alarm, Mankind your Time is Up.

God’s Creation is beautiful and worth saving. Mother Russia should be honest enough to change it’s future just it did 100 years ago. Russia and USA could together reach for the stars, on this Starry Starry Night, they could see if they can reach the Angel Cafe. China could rebuild America’s infrastructure just as they built the railways with the Irish long ago.

People could give up drugs and use their imagination instead, on this Starry Starry night. But I feel a chill, is it Satan crawling from his pit freezing Love as he crawls along corrupting virgins? Will nobody Pray above the Pain, has mankind gone Insane? Where is the Love? Mary is saying the Rosary, can the World join in? Is the Rosary a Circle of Prayer or a noose that Mankind prefers to hang itself with?

A shooting star passes overhead, one dying man is praying, its an old Russian who survived the Nazis, he is praying, he is praying.He is praying with Hope and Love, Mary has joined in, the angels too, the whole of Heaven is praying with the dying Russian man. He is not praying for his own soul, he is praying for the soul of his dear mother, his dear Mother Russia, he has hope and love in his heart as his body dies. He loves Mother Russia, if only it could be as it should be, better than North Korea and better than China or even the USA.   

The old Russian man dies and Saint Michael himself brings him to Heaven, God hands him a vodka and some English tea. Where there is Prayer there is Hope and God stands next to us. So we should all pray and hope and try not to worry as Padre Pio used to say.

 

Study Mode

Study Mode ©

By

Michael Casey

Well my big daughter is having her exams next month so now the Easter Holidays are here so she must study. Next year will be her A Levels and after that University. She’s decided not to do Medicine and may try Biology instead. At my brother’s house over Easter they were talking over food, and my sister in law said that her sister had a place in Edinburgh so my daughter could stay there. Now this could be the confluence of events, or luck or God, or my mother up in Heaven pulling a few Angel’s harp strings. So providing she gets A A A A then should could get in at Edinburgh, yes the grades are that high, but Edinburgh is 25^th in the world for Biology or so I’m told.

So readers worldwide that’s something to pray for, I’ll accept any prayers via any Faith, to help my daughter. Which brings me to today’s talk, which is Study Mode. The Nolan Sisters used to sing I’m in the mood for dancing, romancing, though dads watching just sat there open mouthed. So when I as a student, ok at school I used to have Friday off cos it was Friday.Then Saturday I played rugby, I was very strong as kid and most of my life. Then Sunday after serving Mass as an altar boy I finally did my homework. That was my weekend routine. And yes I still remember the torture that was Latin homework. Mr Proctor used to say do 40 mins, but you had to do double that to make and impression as it was so hard. Otherwise you’d have nothing to show for it. By the way I got a B in Latin O Level. I seem to remember my eldest brother got A at A Level, but he did do Modern Languages at Queens Oxford.

So exams were on the horizon, so books were piled up and the exam time table was placed on the drop leaf study table we had in the middle room. My other brother had gone off coal mining for a year in Newbold Vernon, inventing the Gap Year back in 1974, before leaving the Pit to go to Downing Cambridge to do Economics. Yes I’m still University dropping. And what did the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham do? I did do 2 courses at the Open University while working full time night shifts in a computer room, 30 years ago. Then eventually became a writer, alongside read life, these 1,285,000 words and growing are my Universe if not University. I did History, and Shakespeare, obviously.

So there I am copying out vocabulary and reciting from History notes. I did do 2 English exams, Lang and Lit, plus French, Spanish and Latin as well. Which may explain the love of words, coupled with 20 years of Speech Radio from ages of 8 to 28 especially. Reciting is the best way to learn, don’t mumble to yourself, or follow with a finger. Sing your notes, let the whole street hear you sing about King Edward and that poker. Let them hear you decline your verbs, climb every mountain with your learning. Pluck your eyebrows as you learn that French, which I really did once, but I did get full marks in the test.

Have a reward for every hour of study. My daughter has just done 2 hours so she has an apple tart now and a hot drink. Do not overdose on study. Do those 2 hours and then stroke the cat for thirty minutes, or argue with your baby sister, whichever relaxes you and takes your mind off study. Then grab a cake and head back to the study table. Do 2 more hours, then break again.You can easily do 6 hours of study over a 7 hour period. And if you are studying for A Levels maybe do another 2 hour study. So its 2, break, 2, break, 2, break, 2 FINISH. That’s 8 hours study over 9 and a half hours. So If you get out of bed at 10am then have a lazy breakfast and start study at 11, by 8.30pm you are finished. Then you an relax and watch films on tv or even go out and see friends. But be in bed by Midnight, so you get 10 hours sleep/rest.

This is a very simple idea.If you cannot manage 8 hours study then do 7, the last session can be just one hour, so you finish at 7.30pm. And then you chill with films or go out, but be in bed at Midnight. This is just for month while you do your exams, once exams are finished you can reach for the Diet Coke, the drink I mean, students nowadays. I can actually remember a tv programme about study methods which spoke about 90 mins study sessions then a 15 min break, but that was 40 years ago and the guy had flares and maybe an Afro. Though I do have this photo of my brother at Oxford over 45 years ago he had flares and gold framed octagonal glasses. Now he just looks like Harrison Ford, in carpet slippers.

Now if loud music helps then use it, Country and Western music or Bartok, or even Hymns, if it helps use it, play it loud and proud and lock the door as you STUDY. Remember the Michael Jackson track where there is banging on the door? Well that is you in study mode, or me trying to get into the bathroom with my Ckd, just try and enjoy your studying and get your dad to supply cakes and biscuits. There may be tears and shouting and loud crashing, but if that’s you rehearsing for your Drama exam then so be it. It may also be you and your boyfriend after you’ve done your studying for the day. Or Judo practice to help you unwind, do what you need to do, beat your boyfriend up till he is black and blue. If he loves you, he’ll accept it, besides he’s a Black Belt 5^th Dan, so of course he can take it. He could fall for anybody but he fell for you, and once he’s trained you you’ll reach 7th Dan at Black Belt, but that’ll be after you pass all your exams. For to a Black Belt the sexiest thing about HIS lady is her brains.  

In the Swing of Things

In the Swing of Things ©

By

Michael Casey

Today Australia was there waiting for me when I checked who was reading my stuff. So hello to all the Kangaroos in the zoo and the zookeepers too, who else could it be reading me? Not unless its Rupert Murdoch, or the Dear Leader from North Korea, who’s hiding his IP address. Either way thank you for reading yesterday’s new story, Fat Dave and the DJ. It only happened as I was having a clear out prior to any house move finally happening. So I gave a pile of cds to my Gay neighbours,which led to me thinking there must be a music story in there, and that’s where the seed of an idea came from.

Tonight I was grazing the newspapers and I spotted that Tiger Woods was getting back in the groove, getting back into the swing of things, now that his back has been fused. So that’s brewing in my head as I talk to you all. My own back has fused, and is nearly smoking with pain for a few days, I even missed Easter dinner at my brother’s house. Yes, I missed food and company. So you can imagine just how bad the pain must have been.

Which brings me to Tiger Woods, if ever he comes to Birmingham he can visit Warley Woods there is even a 9 hole golf course he can try. Though I promise not to be as ignorant as I was when the Ryder Cup was on in the Midlands in 2002 or was is 2003? The hotel was packed and I joked to a guest, have you been doing a big of pitch and putt ? To which he replied, no I’ve won the Ryder Cup.

Which all goes to show that you never know what will happen when you work in a busy hotel,which is the attraction of it all. Somebody also asked me once where did I work before and my answer was where there was a locked fire door from the outside. I won’t name names but, my Life and Family is worth more than that.

So what do we mean about being in the swing of things? Well if ever you’ve been to Lourdes you will really see swings in action. The miracle I’m talking about is not just the Grotto, but how the cafes tidy up. You can imagine the traffic of people wanting a drink and a sandwich, the season is 6 months or so then there is no work or business. So hectic is the name of the game. The tables get cluttered and untidy, so the head waiter will give a look and all the staff descend like locusts and clear the tables and tidy the chairs. In five minutes all 20 tables are sorted before the next load of thirsty Pilgrims descend or roost. Il marche bien is what the waiter said when I gave him a look of astonishment. I can also say from my time front of house at CPNEC when it was full on, that we did a similar thing. As Dorienne used to say to me, she could rely on my, it really was a team, all working really hard.

Those are just a couple of examples, but the thing about being in the swing of things is that it is more fun, even though it can be really really tiring. I tell my daughters they should work in hotels to give them some Life Lessons. Habits or is it Hobbits make a difference too, because you hang up your coat and put your shoes away as well as your school bag. Then dad does not trip over your things and is more inclined to give you money for cakes, that if teenagers live a minefield of rubbish all over the living room floor.

When you’ve been sick, or on holiday, or worse been sick while you’ve been on holiday so have had no real rest. Then its hard to get back in the groove, back into the swing of things. You make a few mistakes or you have finger trouble as we typists say. Or sausage fingers that was another phrase used. It’s 40 years since I learnt to type by the way, standing at the bus stop moving my fingers and trying to remember the layout of the QWERTY keyboard. But eventually I got it, though nowadays I never hand write so when people see my hand writing they say YOUR WRITING IS RUBBISH. Yes I see the irony there, but maybe in Australia those kangaroos really do like my writing, and maybe like my typing too.

I’ll get back into the swing of things more tomorrow, but for now I have to get back into my hammock and gently get back to sleep. This ship which we call home has landed on a sandbar and so its time for bed. Though outside Tiger Woods is chipping away at the sandbar with his 9 iron. So by morning Tiger would be able to have freed my ship and I’ll sail of into another day of Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England.      

Fat Dave and the DJ

Fat Dave and the DJ

By

Michael Casey

Dave was fat and old, and needed a wash, he had the needs a wash smell about him. But he lived alone since his wife had died when she was hit by a supermarket trolley in the large car park of the local supermarket. The trolley had not been parked right and had had a nudge and went crashing down hill over all the pot holes and killed her. Lemony Snicket could not have written it any better, but it was the reality, death by supermarket trolley. But at least they paid for the funeral and did offer a free shopping voucher for life, to compensate for her death.

Dave turned down the offer, shopping as a remembrance of his wife’s death would not have been the same. Though the store really did have such great offers. So Dave these past 20 years got fatter and fatter as he found solace in fast food and take aways, while he listened to all the music they used to enjoy together. Can I Touch You there by Michael Bolton used to be their foreplay song, now he just ate chips and dipped them in loads of tomato ketchup. He did get a payout but not the supermarket voucher one first offered.

Barry White’s You’re my First MY Last My Everything was another romantic piece they listened to as they tested the springs on their marriage bed. Now pizza boxes lay scattered about the house. His one and only one was not there any more, his hot water bottle was not there any more. You are the Sunshine of my Life, was not there any more. Oh Jean he proclaimed was not there for him, as the tears for all his fears and his love of all those years was gone, gone, gone.

He had too many Miss you Nights now, since he did not have her, he had been a man and he had really loved his woman, but now she was gone, not even leaving a watermark. Just a dent in an old supermarket trolley where it had hit her head. He had only had eyes for her, and she had left him crying in his sleep. All that she wanted was him, and now she had lfet him high and dry, with just the tears of a clown to comfort him. Has just about staying alive but he had night fevers.

So on and on and on, he played the music that was in him, he let the music take over. If he didn’t he be under attack, from demons. He was searching for a hero to help him to save him from being under attack from demons. He went through their shared record collection, backwards and forwards, looking for an inner vision. But the music was too much, he thought he’d have to throw it all away. He decided to gather up all the CDs and take them to the charity shop.

On the way to the charity shop, a new saviour entered his life. For as fat Dave struggled with wicker basket on wheels which contained all his cds he met a DJ. The DJ really did save his life. For Miles the DJ helped him move the wicker basket to the charity shop. In fact Miles took over and they chatted on the way. Miles knew all about music and therapy. Miles had broken up with his boyfriend at the exact same time fat Dave had lost his beloved fat bottomed wife. Miles boyfriend had betrayed him in the most vile of ways. He had ran off with a straight haired woman, not even nice locks but a straight haired women with bad makeup had stolen the love of Miles’ life away.

So they consoled each other. Then Miles had an idea, he’s give fat Dave his Samsung S9+ 128gig Phone in exchange for trolley load of CDs. Fat Dave would have 10 times more music and a phone he could use, not that he’d ever use all the fancy photo stuff. Fat Dave struggled for a few minutes, but a bargain was a bargain, and maybe with new music his heart might heal. Miles also gave him his BOSE headphones, he’s had them 6 months and besides Miles always changed his headphones every six months.

So with a wave and a smile fat Dave pottered off while Miles rung for a taxi on his backup Apple phone, he was a DJ after all. Now when Miles got to the club that night he decided to use an old CD player, and he announced that tonight he would only play the basket.  Then closing his eyes he picked out one of fat Dave’s Cds and played a few tracks. It was Boston’s Don’t Look Back, followed by It’s Easy and then A man I’ll Never Be. Quickly followed by Tina Turner’s Steamy Windows, then Simply the Best. I’ve tried everything came next, followed by I want it all, and then Lifted.

On and on the night went on. A disit a basket, I pull one from the basket shouted Miles the DJ over the frenzy. Whatever love Dave had had for his wife was in that basket and it was splattered all over the dance floor. Love is Stranger, Sisters are doing it for themselves, Miracle of Love with Sex Crime to follow. On and on went the music. Dancing Queen came next, pandemonium on the dance floor. The Music Basket was an utter utter success. The owner of the club immediately gave Miles a 3 year contact.

As for Dave he discovered Spotify and all the other music that was on the 128 gig on the phone. Miles rung him and said would it be ok if he came by the next day. Miles arrived with several women in tow. They all wanted to meet the inspiration. They were a little surprised to see fat Dave and his untidy house, but once they started to talk music they were totally smitten. The women were Lesbians who loved to dance when they were not running several house and office cleaning companies. So as they talked music with fat Dave they cleaned and polished. Two hours of dancing later the was immaculate. And Dave was gently glowing.

Obviously they all became firm friends. So fat Dave has a succession of very pretty girls coming to his house to talk and dance to music while they cleaned. Miles went from strength to strength with his what’s in the basket routine. Fat Dave’s neighbours were jealous and one old lady called the Police and said he was living off immoral earnings. Some people are evil that way.

A Police Inspector arrived, but he understood, in fact he was gay and knew all about Miles and his basket and how it had all happened as Miles had met fat Dave on the way to the Charity shop. So the Lesbian cleaning company owners added the Police Inspector’s house to their list of contracts. In actual fact they ended up cleaning Police headquarters too, its an ill wind that blows no good after all.

Miles was livid when he heard the story and that’s how he met the Police Inspector, as they say an Inspector Calls, so Miles and Trevor became a couple, I won’t make any comments about handcuffs either. Dave was happy with his new Lesbian cleaner friends but what with all the cleaning he lost a lot of weight. So fat Dave was introduced to a North Korean Cheerleader girl, who wasn’t a Lesbian. And they married and had 7 children each more beautiful than they next.

Obviously Miles did the music and Trevor sorted the parking out, there were 1000 guests after all. And instead of gifts there was an empty wicker basket, and cash was put in it. Dave with not want the money nor did his North Korean Cheerleader Bride. Instead all the money was donated to the local children’s charity.

God works in mysterious ways, Dave made new friends for life after he’s lost his wife. Then through his cleaners he met a new wife. Miles had a life long arresting experience too. So look to the stars everybody.

     

TO READ El carnicero, el panadero y Undertaker © Por Michael Casey

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/

El carnicero, el panadero y Undertaker © Por Michael Casey  

Standing Out

Standing Out ©

By

Michael Casey

I was checking my reader figures this morning as I do every day, and I noticed a comment, which can also be spam advertising, from South America perhaps. So they liked a post, a sample in Spanish. I checked out their name and email, and it was fake. However the name used referred to tattoos and Ra tattoos at that, I even learnt the Spanish for tattoo. The name associated referred to a Mafia family turned Peacemakers. So who says I need any imagination if I get comments like this. It’s probably all fake, not unless in some Jail in some country they have stumbled over my writing.

But if you are really bad boys reading my stuff you could try reading all 1,280,000 Words of mine on a Kindle. It’s as if I am Joan Wilder in Romancing the Stone and the local gangster loves my stories. Well thank you all whoever you are, in jail or in a palace or whatever. And if you want to spend some of your billions before ICE or whoever catches up with you why not donate 30million GDP to Birmingham University so they can start that Pain Relief Centre. I’m all for turning swords into ploughshares. Maybe its the Jesuit in me, or I’ve read too much Don Camillo.

This is all the Prologue, a line of white stories to sniff as you have your coffee and buns, far healthier than any other substances we see in films. So why do we all want to stand out?To look hard, or to look soft, or just to be naked if you are a nudist. I suppose its because we want to have a family, we can chose our friends but not our family. But we can chose a family of friends, a gang or cohort if you know a posh word. So do we chose friends or do they chose us.

I suppose a writer if I’m being really stuck up my own, you can insert the word of your choice, a writer observes more and joins in less. But your life can make you an observer, you are the lookout, or the ICE surveillance guy. Or the priest at the church door counting the sinners in. But we all need love, sex and love are different, once your hormones quieten down you will discover this. We find love by romance, by joining a choir, or a football team, or the army or a street gang. Love in the broadest sense of the word, not sex, love, the kind where you’d die for buddy in the army, or in the street gang, or even for the other members in your Punk Rock band.

We all want to stand out, just a little bit, so we are not just grains of sand on a beach, all so the same. We want to be different, we want to stand out. We have to wear school uniforms, or I’m at college uniforms, ripped jeans and a top with a large coat stolen from granddad. We want to be different from our day to day existence, to show we have personality especially if we have none. So be being in a band, musical or not, so by making noise together, we find ourself a home where we want to be, because our real home may be a prison.

Then if you are a naughty boy your home in the gang can lead to prison, a real prison where you spend your time getting inked up, and all because you wanted to stand out from the boring crowd in your village. Life is not fair is it? I have my own tattoo as big as a A3 piece of paper, it’s a brown birthmark on my shoulder, all overgrown in hair now. Maybe that’s why my bothers and sisters used to say I was born under a cow, because of my cowpat birthmark on my shoulder, which makes me stand out.

Now as today is Holy Saturday 31stMarch 2018 I though I’d finish by saying this, just in case you really are those Egyptian Eye tattooed people from South America, thank you for today’s spark which led to this piece. Remember Easter is all about Peace and rebirth, so try not to kill anybody anymore. And yes do donate money to Pain Relief Centres anywhere in the world. Because in the end ICE or rather the cold of death comes to everybody.

How do you want to be remembered? With fear in the eyes of those who see you or with love? Jesus had his own gang, his own posse, today Holy Saturday Jesus is dead, but tomorrow and every day he is alive with Love for all of us. Even me, even you. All tattoos will be washed away and naked we’ll all be judged, Heaven would be so much more fun with YOU, yes YOU inside teaching the angels dance moves. And if you are very very lucky you’ve never get to meet me, ever, and how great would that be?    

HOPE a piece from 5 years ago

Hope(c)

 By

 Michael Casey

I've just watched Star Trek again, the film version by JJ Abrams. I really enjoyed it, especially the fact that Spock gets the girl. It was an exciting film, and most of all it was about Hope.

Yes HOPE, without hope we are nothing. Without Hope we are no better than animals or insects even. Small and Nothing. Hope is love, it is future, hope is our smile. A man, a great man once said Pray, Hope and Don't worry. His name was Padre Pio, I believe it was him who saved my dad's life back in 1996 you can read Padre Pio and Me on my  timeline.

I hope I pass that exam, I hope that girl notices me, I'm too shy to talk to her. I hope he notices me. Our whole life direction can start or stop, all because of hope.  Or lack of hope, and perhaps courage. It takes courage to take that 1st step, putting yor feeling out there. To be accepted or rejected in an instance.

If accepted you go forward slowly. If rejected you go away and cry maybe. But that's where Hope comes in, without Hope you just want to stay in bed and give up. You have to shake yourself and start again, and again, and again and again. No matter how many times it takes for you to have your confidence back.

Hope should always be in your heart, even if you feel destroyed you have to gather your spirits up and try again. Or if you are very lucky you stand by the fridge after you have got home and look at your dead mother's photo. Then you make a prayer. Always  remember to pray, even when you cannot pray because all Hope seems to have been swept away. You just pray, hope and don't worry. Even if your only prayer is "teach me to pray."

There is always hope, I was talking to somebody recently, and I hope they read this and take it to heart. You may be flat on your back in the gutter, and I've been there too, but you can look up at the stars, misusing Oscar Wilde's quote. All of us can get up off our back and start again. I'm smiling now, why? Because I have a bad back which is a life changing thing for me. My path has to be different from now on.

My path I hope is writing, writing for Radio and Film too, if I'm lucky and if I pray hard enough. Even if it's not, I'll still write at   https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com  and even if nobody ever reads my words I'll still write. Because I have Hope. I've had Hope these past 26years.         I have a family now, all because of Hope.

So never give up or give in, sometimes you have to give yourself a kick up the backside, just as sportsmen do. Wind yourself up like clockwork and get back on that horse. Get back to that sewing machine, get back to the classroom, or back to driving that taxi. Whatever it is do it, just do it.

Go look at my photos, see how silly I look. If I can talk to you the way I'm talking to you   right now then how much better are your true friends. I'm not here to inspire you, go inspire yourself. Have a rest tonight, and in the morning start over, each day is fresh, straight out the fridge if you like.

So make yourself a fresh new creation, every single day.

Michael

******

its's 30/3/2018 now tonight I wanted to write a new piece but I'm too tired and 5 years on my back is playing up again/still. I wanted to be clever and write about Despair/Hope as tomorrow is Holy Saturday, if you like Jesus is dead, so how must everybody have felt. Utter despair, they were not sure that Easter would come. So I thought I could squeeze in a bit of writing to add to the 1,280,000 words or so. So the obvious theme would be Hope/Despair but as I checked for Titles, so I don't use same name for a new piece of writing. I've written 1300 to 1600 individual stories now, hence I check. Anyways I spotted this so I thought I'd load an old piece up and the maybe in the morning I'd write a new piece. I was at Mass via the Internet today so thanks to them, its amazing what you an find if you just look.

The clock has just struck Midnight so I'll finish, the wife is watching Silence of The Lambs in the other room, I may just try and make her scream on my way to bed.

mum's birthplace in Cromane Lower Kerry Ireland