tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post7770765949995101531..comments2023-06-28T22:58:28.247+10:00Comments on Sixth In Line: It's rude to stare.Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-4006858734629338142013-09-30T06:23:11.970+10:002013-09-30T06:23:11.970+10:00Staring's a big problem with me. Wish I could ...Staring's a big problem with me. Wish I could kick the habit but can't.Kirkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02155991693956178030noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-6604514204653143352013-09-30T02:19:28.592+10:002013-09-30T02:19:28.592+10:00Enjoyed.Enjoyed.Anthony Ducehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17476865809734682418noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-49587875346539868812013-09-30T01:07:40.585+10:002013-09-30T01:07:40.585+10:00This reminds me of Rhyming Life and Death in whic...This reminds me of <a href="http://jim-murdoch.blogspot.co.uk/2009/10/rhyming-life-and-death.html" rel="nofollow"><i>Rhyming Life and Death</i></a> in which an author goes about his day making up stories about people he encounters. It’s what we do. People are just fodder for our imagination. Who cares about the truth? Fiction’s always more interesting. I have a scene in <i>Left</i> when Jen’s sitting in a restaurant making up a story about the only other people in the restaurant—two blokes in business suits—who she decides are lovers breaking up which they may or may not be; the problem with an unreliable narrator is we often miss out on the facts. We delude ourselves most of the time. We trust our perceptions and conceptions are the same as everyone else’s. No one sees the world in exactly the same way as we do. It’s all lies—not nasty lies—but lies nevertheless. I’ve an old poem which I’m fond of:<br /><br /> CITY SCENE <br /><br /> Anna broke down<br /> by the back door of Arnotts –<br /> she slipped to the pavement<br /> and cried.<br /><br /> Everyone simply passed her by<br /> thinking that she was drunk.<br /><br /> Some threw money.<br /><br /><br /> 22 October 1978<br /><br />It could do with a clean-up but I’ll let it stand. I wasn’t so fussy back in 1978. We assume. We see a woman on the street and we assume she’s drunk based on very little evidence. Now here’s the thing: years later I walked by the back door to Arnotts—a department store that used to be on Argyle Street—and lo and behold there was my Anna, sitting on the floor. She wasn’t begging. She may well have been drunk or ill and I’m afraid I passed by on the other side.<br /><br />Ginger I have no problem with. Carrie and I had ginger cookies with our coffee this morning and very nice they were too. That said I am pretty sure Carrie does stuff with my food without telling me and waits to see if I object or even comment. Sometimes I do but I’m far less fussy these days than I used to be. The last thing I objected to was the Greek yoghurt she served on top of our fruit. It looked like cream. I don’t like cream and I don’t like things that look like cream even if they taste like yoghurt. There was no reasoning with me. She won’t do that again. Mostly though I don’t care. She knows the things that bother me and they basically come under the general heading of : Goo. I don’t like goo. I also don’t much like touching my food with the exception of things like biscuits and crisps. Anything that’ll make my hands sticky is a no-no. I’d eat a pizza with a knife and fork if it wasn’t covered in gooey cheese.<br /><br />It’s fair to say then that I hate goo. Hatred is no different to love. There are many levels to love. Why not to hate? I love yoghurt (as long as it’s cold and isn’t served masquerading as cream) but not as much as my wife even on the days she serves me yoghurt that looks like cream and maintains it looks like ice cream. As always this reminds me of a scripture: "If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple (Luke 14:26). Is Jesus telling us to hate (as in detest or despise) or simply to love less? I was always taught it was the latter. And how can we hate ourselves when Paul said, “No one hates his own body but feeds and cares for it, just as Christ cares for the church” (Eph 5:29). Since the Bible cannot contradict itself—that’s what I was taught so let’s just let that stand for now—then there has to be an interpretation of the word ‘hate’ that works here. That’s the problem with words though. They are always open to interpretation. I don’t hate you ergo I love you and it’s true, I do love you, but what the hell do I mean when I say, “I love you,” to you and what do you imagine I mean? I all gets very complicated. Lying is much easier and far more satisfying.Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-28600668367744689202013-09-29T19:55:48.374+10:002013-09-29T19:55:48.374+10:00It can be DANGEROUS to stare sometimes. Is it pos...It can be DANGEROUS to stare sometimes. Is it possible that all animals feel somewhat threatened if stared at? Sometimes it results in violent behaviour.<br /><br />I love ginger! Don't mind staring at it either.<br /><br />The poor chap leaving the eatery: could he have had some sort of epileptic fit? My daughter has to take meds to keep these fits under control. Sometimes she would just 'fade' into nowhere. No convulsions, just oblivious to all things around her. Sometimes called an 'absence' fit; many kids can suffer from this and be blamed as daydreamers by teachers and others.PhilipHhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06811831703263176415noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-22894026436196254122013-09-29T17:08:20.218+10:002013-09-29T17:08:20.218+10:00I'm a fan of ginger and a starer too. Very rar...I'm a fan of ginger and a starer too. Very rarely does anyone complain. I did once have a woman ask "what you lookin' at?" I immediately said "your hair, I've never seen such a shade before, is it natural?" and she looked quite pleased. so there's the trick. If you're caught staring, offer a compliment. <br />I'm wondering why you immediately thought drug overdose? I was thinking nausea or stomach/chest pains. Riverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14794655013673748992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-64955567580376327202013-09-29T14:43:35.765+10:002013-09-29T14:43:35.765+10:00I think people stare because they are curious, not...I think people stare because they are curious, not always out of rudeness. When we see someone that is out of our realm of understanding we stare to make sense and try to figure things out. Yes, there will always be the rude people but I would rather have someone stare than look away and ignore someone and pretend he or she doesn't exist. Birdiehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03479872783727855901noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-7665763440438400582013-09-29T13:30:00.257+10:002013-09-29T13:30:00.257+10:00I like the smell of fresh rosemary but I hate the ...I like the smell of fresh rosemary but I hate the taste. For some reason it makes me think of pine-o-clean!?!?<br />Karen CAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com