Friday, 4 September 2026

More Fragments.

I was thinking deep thoughts about the human condition and the state of being this morning. (I don't know why I do it; I really don't.) I intended to write a blog post around the theme, but it became too deep, too complex, too wordy, and I wasn't in a Virginia Woolf mood, so I decided to stick with the bottom line: 'Why did the Universe decide to place an indivisible fragment of God mind into the body of an animal?'

And then I read a biography of Virginia Woolf and it depressed me.

After that I received my monthly electric bill from those nice people at E.ON, and that drove me to distraction. Not the bill itself, but what happened when I tried to pay it online. I wouldn't dream of relating all the details; suffice it to say that the online method is becoming slower, more crotchety, more irrational, more marketing-oriented, and evermore frustrating with each passing month. I'd like to call them (which isn't exactly easy in itself) and ask: Please may we go back to the old method? You send me a paper bill; I send you a cheque. I doubt it would do any good. The ideocracy is gaining ground everywhere it seems.

What is also likely to drive me to distraction is the whole day 'music festival' at the local pub planned for tomorrow. If I were to mention it to any of the locals I would no doubt be asked: 'Why? Don't you like music?' And then I would have to explain to them that music is closer to my heart than nearly everything else, which is why being forced to listen to music not of my choosing drives me to distraction.
 
This brings me back to what set off this morning's early thought process. It seems that 95% of people are under the misguided impression that 100% of people are basically the same in thought, attitude, and behaviour, with just a few minor differences here and there. What they don't seem to understand is that 5% of people -- and that doesn't include the rare few who are actually psychotic -- are very, very different and have a difficult life because of it. And so they call you a miserable old git and walk away.

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