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Werewolves

silhouettes…guilt; compassion and guilt; itīs been one of those lengthy moments with the idea of guilt playing around in my mind. The, also lengthy, process of getting the right contacts for mail marketing is one excuse. Wanting to catch up with enjoyable painting and drawing is another.

(The image is one layer of several silhouettes of deceased luminaries Iīm planning. I have also completed two profiles of spiritual beings in oils but they are taking ten lifetimes to dry. Canīt see me using oils again as they donīt suit my impatient art style.)
silhouettes

[Re second image: Got bored and made several mistakes, so unlikely to re-try this.]

Anyway, finally, the promised Werewolves review is below.

But, before, the fine line between compassion and guilt has been on my mind for a while. Compassion of the purest kind is caritas - divine or mystical love. Most other kinds of love are based on need of some kind. Or guilt.

Compassion for the dispossessed in Pakistan is based on guilt. Ditto the endless faces of starving tiny black children. Yet, year after year of my time on this earth, nothing seems to have changed, so true compassion has turned into guilt. Maybe thatīs why donations are dropping, although there may also be a concern about helping terrorism.

Compassion or kindness for others starts to tarnish when it all feels so one-sided - or, even worse, when they bite the hand that feeds. So I donīt agree that we should be endlessly kind without thought of return. Yet hearts should not be hardened either. Thus guilt remains.
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And so to Werewolves. Or rather guilt induced by a promise.

I confess it was the art that made me curious to know more, and they are attractive illustrations by Allyson Haller. Unfortunately, the rather stylised layout caused the art to overpower the words.The tiny cursive font made it difficult to read, especially with a pdf, so the illustrations bore the brunt of telling the story... a tale of transformation, by Paul Jessup. Alice, the heroine, is bitten by and transformed into a werewolf. Her attempts to understand the changes in herself, as well as pack dynamics, form the basis of the journal entries. Probably one for fans of lycanthropy.
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Art is informed by the life we lead, by our thoughts, experiences and desires. My blog posts are either streams of consciousness, wrestling with spiritual concepts or other experiences on this particular spiritual journey. For examples of how this translates into my art, please visit my gallery. Euphrosene Labon Mind Body Spirit Artist Author Writer


Littlehampton

Littlehampton bench…is a missed opportunity on a number of levels - not least for rather passive local officialdom. As you know, Iīve given up on any progress with open studios since Arun withdrew from West Sussex County Councilīs arts partnership.

The arts cover a wide brief and I feel that catering for all generally, serves all badly. Fine art needs to be selective - and, living off the (artīs) beaten path,I have no option but to be selective, so am doing targeted marketing. But it would have helped to have been on an authorised arts trail.

Meanwhile, a while back, I paid for my parentsī and brotherīs names to be engraved on the `worldīs largest benchī.

At irregular times, I asked for information when it would be finished - end of July, I was told but nothing firm to put in the diary. Yesterday, by accident, I discovered it was finished on the 30th July.

So, as I received no email inviting me to the official opening, I chased, again. The bench is finished but the actual official opening is, possibly, in September, when the school children who thought of it (?) are back.

I can understand keeping costs down if stamps and envelopes are involved, but an email is almost nil cost to keep people informed. Was I supposed to guess when it was viewable? Thatīs also what I mean by passivity - dearth of decent communication.

So, yesterday, I had a lunch detour to spot our slat and was hugely relieved it was not under some big fat arse, nor near the noisier areas. It was also not that lengthy a bench but looked attractive enough. The bits that did look like a fat arse had sat on them - and broken them - are apparently for wheelchairs or bins or access.

Wouldnīt have guessed.

Apart from limp officialdom, the real problem with Littlehampton is its downmarket air.

The roads, wide and narrow, are pleasant to wander through; the houses mostly in good nick. The marina may not be Brighton-glitzy, but it has its own `remnants of a fishing villageī charm. Yet its shops are almost all drab, cheap, dire.

There is a greyness and gloom to them, reflected from the people. Those lovely houses, used to be, and may still be, rented out to those who like to collect their dole cheques in relatively gracious surroundings. Unfortunately, the quid pro quo means anyone with two pennies to rub together avoids Littlehampton like the plague.

No upmarket restaurants or shops are going to bring shine and wealth until there is a people purge. No, not ethnic cleansing, but perhaps reduce the amount of out of towners who choose to claim the dole down here. Create state of the art business centres and offer incentives to white collar workers.

And, as I suggested last year, have more selective arts programmes - certainly not in Harbour Park! (It may be snobbish, but it sends the wrong signals - especially to collectors.)

Change could be achieved, but it needs considerably more dynamic, and even aggressive, action than anyone down here has either the will or skill for.
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Health aside: the current regime seems to be working though washing my hair every day was a bore. Now it is every other day, with serious coconut oil massage and frequent hair brushing to exfoliate - same as face really. The itch is actually skin tightening ready to peel or flake.

For me, the solution is the same for dry face - moisturise often and before it needs it. Yet suppliers donīt actually make it easy. Most products for scalp dermatitis dry it out further and are really only good for killing any bacteria or yeast attacks.

Scratching oneīs head (apart from people thinking you are dirty!) makes you look slightly mad.

Iīm not sure the rather greasy look post-coconut oil massage is any better but it does seem to be working - though I will not be repeating a treatment of the other night: massage into hair and leave overnight. Even with towels over my pillows, I had a dreadfully patchy sleep.

I should add that even washing it out leaves a rather lank look. Still, itīs better than itching.
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Tom Hollanderīs Rev was an enjoyable watch, although it did reinforce my view (as does press reporting of the latest marital shenanigan in yet another vicarīs love life) that any potential priest or vicar who mentions his (or her) sex or sexuality is not fit or cut out to be a channel of God.

If their energy is focused on sex or sexuality, it sure as hell isnīt on God.
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Art is informed by the life we lead, by our thoughts, experiences and desires. My blog posts are either streams of consciousness, wrestling with spiritual concepts or other experiences on this particular spiritual journey. For examples of how this translates into my art, please visit my gallery. Euphrosene Labon Mind Body Spirit Artist Author Writer


High creative skills

JD2…are more common in those with mental illness in the family, it seems. Iīm going to take that positively. Pity my creative output has been so low this week. I seem to be too tired to do more than arrange and re-arrange my list of things to do, or practice in my head. There again, Segovia practised in his head so itīs still valid.

Despite not firing on all cylinders, I have ordered labels for a postcard mailing. Better to do something, although mailings really need to be done quite frequently to have any real effect, yet I have been so spasmodic with marketing efforts.

Part of the reason is wanting to get the Wise El words and cartoons done but it is a far bigger task than I realised. And thatīs just the words. Plus I havenīt even got anywhere near the cartoons for the motivational stuff.

It would be good to have help - which is in part the reason for one lot of marketing mailers.
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Cameronīs `Big Societyī was and is too nebulous a term. Things have to spelled out. This is how much money there is; this is what it is currently being spent on; what is absolutely vital; what is useful; what is nice to have.

Panoramaīs programme on public sector cuts last night really shocked me - but not for the most obvious reasons. I had no idea local government spent money on music lessons, wardens for the reasonably healthy (if they can go on protest marches and rant ad nauseam, they are reasonably healthy in my book!), yet some interviewed felt it was their right - ie vital. This is surely where people need to be re-educated.

When money is plentiful, then yes, have some of the `nice to haveī things that add to social harmony and cohesion. But if a community centre is so valuable, there is a case for the community itself to run and fund it themselves. Itīs not much of a community if it needs outside impetus, is it?

Where people do need help, in my view, is with ideas - in fact almost more than money - though the ideas should be pragmatic. Fanciful ideas spring from endless funds but tighter reins on money flow tend to make for more workable ideas.
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Another programme, on Five, this time about the Cameron-Clegg lovathan. Neither really registered much with me till last week. Shallow and grasping on a Blair scale - maybe not as high as His Tonyness.

Then, last week, Cameron changed in my eyes. It may all be smoke and mirrors, but I got a strange feeling that he had the potential to be great - and part of that potential greatness was an even greater gift as a poker player. As of now, I still hold that view.

Clegg remains an ambitious pretty boy, who needs his party as well as the Tories, but will probably behave. He still looks and sounds like he is swimming out of his depth. A measure of Cameronīs potential greatness will be if he helps Clegg when he no longer needs to.

Not yet sure of Osborne. Even when he talks it is as if there is more we are not yet aware of. Cameron could have dumped him in this coalition but he still seems to have greater power than Clegg. Interesting times.
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Thereīs a smell of privet, or a similar hedge, that invariably takes me back to walking along Sutton Court Road on the way back from school - St Bernadetteīs in Hillingdon - to RAF Uxbridge where we lived at the time.

I was very young - it was a primary school - but remember the long roads and feeling free. But in my mind, it is only the warm days I really recall. I must be getting old.
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Art is informed by the life we lead, by our thoughts, experiences and desires. My blog posts are either streams of consciousness, wrestling with spiritual concepts or other experiences on this particular spiritual journey. For examples of how this translates into my art, please visit my gallery. Euphrosene Labon Mind Body Spirit Artist Author Writer


DEITY OF THE DAY
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