- the English variety - have clay feet. Curiosity got the better of me so I watched parts of the England-Germany match. The tabloids again droned on about the war, so it was fine karmic retribution to be hammered 4:1. But you don´t need to be a football-phobe to see what an undynamic bunch of players they were. Perhaps they are just paid too much to be hungry any more?
More esoterically, and since Sven, I truly cannot understand why England has a foreign manager. (Aside: Or indeed why Germany had a lot of non-German players.) But, back to the manager: surely, on a subconscious level, he´d be rooting for his own country and might even have a kind of destruct policy without even realising it?
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Meanwhile: The RA Summer Exhibition was a bit of a disappointment. Two small rooms at the back were chock a block with small canvases mostly sent in by the hoi polloi, while the other rooms were generously spaced with art by the RA members. Far too many looked like someone had been cleaning their brushes on spare canvas panels.
Most had no orange dots so maybe the paying public is not that gullible. That said, there were gazillions of orange dots on two of Tracey Emin´s £400 `masterpieces´ (ie pencil scribblings). Presumably the `lucky´ buyer is hoping they will gain in financial value as their spiritual value was in minus figures from where I was looking.
If hers had been the only fraudulent pieces, it wouldn´t have been so bad but there were an amazing amount of splodges and drips which had me scribbling `tripe´ and `utter tripe´ in my List of Works. In the end, I decided to just tick those where the soul was apparent and managed less than ten, although I did give up really looking by the time I got to the Weston Rooms. Trying to see anything there is a farce given the mass of art covering all walls in their entirety.
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Got the early train out and shared the journey with my local admirer. Plans to meet up for a drink later fell through due to the disappointment of the exhibition, and just wanting to get home - not helped by eating a delicious cheesy ravioli which caused an mild allergic reaction.
Have bought lots of Aloe Vera products to soothe and reduce, plus a job lot of anti-histamines. I expect the sunny weather made it worse than it would otherwise have been.
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Why do people eat such a massive amount on short-ish train journeys? On the journey back, a middle-aged man managed three large sandwiches, a packet of (smelly) cheese and onion crisps, a chocolate bar, all finished off with an apple. And in less than the forty minutes of his travel time. I really think it is quite gross to stuff one´s face in such confined quarters - and without a by-your-leave too!
Also inconsiderate: the neighbour who regularly parks on the pavement blocking the entrance to the twitten while she´s at it, and an immediate neighbour who rarely prunes the tree that often swipe me in the face as I walk up my own path! I shall be out there with my secateurs if they are not trimmed tonight as asked. As the car inconsiderate is kin to the cat inconsiderate, I won´t bother asking there. Tempted to send back their negative energy though.
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Watched an advert with little children discussing hugs and, sadly, when one little girl said her Uncle Alan gave the best, tightest hugs, the wrong image popped into my mind. Social laissez faire seems to have created a world where male behaviour is particularly suspect. Who can see two men together without mostly dismissing them as non-hetero territory?
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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
- albeit an unending one. Figures, considering we share a birthday. 
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