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 Father O'Blivion's Profile |
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| Age: | 48 years old |
| Sex: | Male |
| Location: | Midlands |
| Country: |  United Kingdom |
| Last Login: | Sep 7, 2009 (94 days back) |
About Me |
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| Originally from the west coast of Scotland, I now live in Buckinghamshire, England with my wife and daughter. Compared to us Scots, I find most English people to be a dour, uptight and unsociable bunch. Speaking one's mind is frowned upon here. I think this is the reason that most of the folk down here think me to be either a nutter or a crazy bastard! The English, I find, would rather speak about one behind one's back than actually come out and say something to one's face. Having said that, I did marry an English lass, and a very pretty one she is too! In nature as well as looks. I guess there are exceptions to every rule. This is my adopted English town The countryside where I live is very beautiful as my adopted town nestles in the Chiltern hills. I am very happy living here and the only thing I miss about Scotland, apart from the warmth and openness of the people, is the cry of the sea gulls. My home in Scotland was practically on the coast and not far from this hill here ; And In a fine summer evening I'd like to sit atop the hill and watch the ferry sailing to and fro in it's journey from Gourock to Dunoon. And in the mornings I'd often be woken by the cry of the gulls over the river Clyde. I now spend as much time as possible camping with my dog in the wonderful woodland of the Chiltern hills. I can't express enough how much I enjoy the peace and solitude of the woodlands that surround my home. I always carry a recorder with me whilst camping. The acoustics in the woods are most pleasing to the ear indeed. I own several sopranos, an alto, and a sopranino recorder. My most expensive recorder to date is a Coolsma Aura Conservatorium in boxwood which comes in at around £160. Here's a pleasant little tune ( Circa 1500 ) that I used to love playing on the sopranino, here accompanied most competently by my old friend Brainiac Fingers on guitar. .. I also like drawing things. Everything from the mundane to the fantastic. I do usually prefer drawing from my imagination, just allowing my mind free rein and my pen to take a walk across the page. I also like to sketch not only in pen but in words. Employ wondrous mental anaphors and diectics, as best I am able, in an attempt to clothe the most quotidian in colours most glorious! I aspire to be a hurler of words! And I will hurl words into this myspace and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounds, no matter how faintly, I will send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for this life that gnaws in us all. For anything that we do to become an adventure we must ( and this is enough ) begin to recount it in words. A man is always a teller of tales, he lives surrounded by his stories and the stories of others, he sees everything that happens to him through them, and he tries to live his own life as if he were telling a story. But he has a choice... Live or tell? And tell is what most of us do. Oh most selfish meme! The most virile being almost entirely exploitative and viral in nature. But then...memes don't exist! Tell All your friends!! Save The Planet?! .. Layout by CoolChaser |
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My Interests |
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I'd like to meet:Those who have stood penniless in the north east corner.Those with an interest in the Occult and Esoterics. Eccentrics, Lunatics, and the Man In The Moon CURRENT MOON the moon Anyone who wishes to donate to my retirement fund. Anyone with a good sense of fun. Those who I'd not like to meet The pompous and the prudish. People who feel sorry for themselves and whine about life. The miserable and the depressed. If this is you then I suggest you piss off and request a friend who will actually give a fuck. |
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My Background and Lifestyle |
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| MaritalStatus: | Married |
| SexualOrientation: | Straight |
My Blog |
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Darshan |
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| I come
from the silenceAs a word
spoken in the dark,
I come from the stillness
As a breath blown
Through the tunnels of time and
space.
A... Posted by on Thu, 09 Jul 2009 05:19:00 GMT |
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Ode On The Death Of Michael Jackson |
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| Cyril Mortimer Wellbetter is an orphan aged 7 1/2 who was rescued from a life inside a state run institution by The Church Of Appliantology's Outreach Program. Thanks to an intensive education regim... Posted by on Fri, 26 Jun 2009 07:51:00 GMT |
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Socializing |
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| Went to the pub on Saturday with wifey. We got to the pub around 9pm. By that time just about everyone, and it was very busy indeed, was either drunk, or well on their way to getting drunk. "Everyo... Posted by on Tue, 23 Jun 2009 02:05:00 GMT |
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Isn't myspace wonderful? |
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| I've noticed that most of the adds on my home page here on myspace, and even the adds showing when I log out, have a direct reference to what I write in my profile, blogs, bulletins etc...As a result,... Posted by on Fri, 19 Jun 2009 02:20:00 GMT |
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Empathy |
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| I am showing my support to members of the deaf community today by not listening to a fuckin' word that anyone says to me. Basically, I'll be turning a deaf ear to all requests, pleas, supplications, a... Posted by on Thu, 18 Jun 2009 02:28:00 GMT |
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Down to the one girl! |
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| My stepdaughter departs for her school trip today. Personally speaking, I found the thought horrifying, as I feel that children younger than 16yrs of age should have no part whatsoever in the ingesti... Posted by on Wed, 10 Jun 2009 02:44:00 GMT |
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Camping |
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| The twilight seemed to last an eternity. By some trick of the light, the woods around me grew dark and brooding but the sky was still a bright vibranat blue, mottled with stars! Dug lay curled asleep... Posted by on Fri, 22 May 2009 05:56:00 GMT |
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A Work For Poets |
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| To have carved on the days of our vanityA sunA shipA starA cornstalkAlso a few marksFrom an ancient forgotten timeA child may readThat not far from the stoneA wellMight open for wayfarersHere is a wor... Posted by on Wed, 20 May 2009 01:52:00 GMT |
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Is "God" a verb? |
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| Noctambulism is usually taken to mean sleepwalking. This is inaccurate. Noctambulism means walking at night. At night new orders of connection assert themselves, sonic, olfactory, tactile.... Sail... Posted by on Sat, 16 May 2009 12:04:00 GMT |
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Of Going And Coming Forth By Day |
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| It is the morning of my birth, the first of many. The past lies
knotted in its sheets asleep. Winds blow, flags above the temple
ripple. Out of darkness the earth spins toward light. I feel a change... Posted by on Fri, 15 May 2009 05:35:00 GMT |
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Tags |
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Father O'Blivion's profile has been tagged with the following keywords. Click a tag to search for profiles with the same tags. cry of the sea, cry of the gulls, crazy bastard, blivion, chiltern hills, river clyde, sea gulls, gourock, buckinghamshire england, conservatorium, english people, boxwood, sopranino recorder, nutter, summer evening, sopranos, old friend, openness, solitude, lass |
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