This is a start, but not the beginning. This is not finished, nothing ever ends.

Snippets of conversation – with myself.

Such is life and its’ many elements. Many unfinished. Yet do they need to be finished to be of value?
How many half read books, part conversations held or overheard; how many cutting remarks, half held, somewhat shared glances or gazes continue to influence you in your present day? Even in our futures.

Words Fall From My Eyes (WFfME) wrote the other day, “Lives are lost to memories passed.” Really? The words of nostalgia?
Do we live as reflections of our pasts? As objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are,’ so may our reflections be distorted and magnified to become something that they never were or even something that we wish to project them to be for a future that we create as we learn from the experiences held in memory.
To look back is not to live in the past or even to lose our future or present. In an era of critical reflection, research based evidence and recorded ‘proof’, our pasts are our proofs and our futures the proving grounds.
Maybe that is not at all what WFfME (sounds like a curse phrase? Sorry N’n! ;-)) meant with her words. I feel relatively confident that this post will gain a comment or two giving some clarification.

How magical and mystical, descriptive, creative, poetic, illuminating, inspiring yet concealing, deceitful, and destructive; wrong and right our words can be. Without any effort to be such our greatest ability to communicate can become such a massive border, a dead man’s ground between us; blocking exchange and destroying our potential development.

“For millions of years we lived just like the animals,
then something magical happened, which unleashed the power of our imagination.
We learned to talk.

So I ask you as your read my words, or any others: as you listen to somebody speak or to the voices in your head – please, if those words reach you negatively or without good impression, go back. Read them again, play back the recording of what you’ve heard and try to find the positive. The best possible intentions behind, beside, underneath it all: our perspective is what makes our world.The following are what this post set out to, set out. Snippets, parts of unfinished thoughts, like the magazine picked up and partly read in the time available.

(I intended to separate each topic with a totally different font, making it all much more of what they are, notes unfinished. Pathetically this is not possible with WPress. Not even if I upgrade and purchase each year membership. So each will now be in a different colour). I inserted pictures and links to relevant others. My attempt to publish was blocked, “unauthorised” pictures disappeared.  Half of my unfinished words have gone Missing In Action. AWOL never to return? I threw away – recycled – the pieces of paper that they were scribbled on. Such are some events in life..

This was my mothers pencil. As such I have kept this in frequent use for twenty two years.But still so much remains to write. The biggest stories are yet to be told.

This was my mothers pencil. As such I have kept this in frequent use for twenty-two years.
But still so much remains to write. The biggest stories are yet to be told.

I think that I wrote this regarding the watching of films. They are my escapism, of sorts. One day I will write a script that becomes a film. I hope that it will be soon. Maybe then I will have the opportunity to do it again. Please though, do not be misled by the somewhat Hollywood angle of the following comment. :

Do you know when I feel my happiness happiest? That moment of true relation – punch to the sky, the empathic yell, “Yes!” with as many exclamation marks as you may feel? 
When the guy proposes to the girl. If it’s clumsy, awkward, smooth, staged rehearsed and fully prepared or preferably off the cuff – on a knee. It’s not the question. It’s the response, providing that it’s a “Yes!” One exclamation mark hits the point for me and I conjure up all sorts of images of all sorts of girls oozing overcome ness to all sorts of guys. It doesn’t have to be the guy proposing to the girl, yet maybe unfortunately tradition still seems to keep a hold, certainly in Hollywood. This is not Hollywood. Though I accept it may be a little romantic, idealistic.. As our genders become more acceptably equal I’m sure that the reality of this is changing. What will it take for a few films to portray and therefore promote this? I chose not to use the word Hollywood again. I wonder what todays balance of gender to gender proposals are, ♂ Q ♀ v. ♀ Q ♂? Now, obviously there are ⚤ results, ⚢ and ⚣. Is it all a math equation? How scientific can we make the formula appear? 😃

Films, are like books. For some they are more visual, for others less so, constricting our own imaginations. When a film is made of a book that you have read, how often do you find the characters as you had imagined, the scenes as you saw them in your own personal auditorium? How many times do another’s words truly reflect your own feelings? There is a quote that I remember (though I do not know where it comes from. Anybody?) ‘ meet another, who thinks and even acts as we do is something close to a blessed event; like Robinson Crusoes first footprints in the sand’

Kind of leading on with some connection, I was watching a film. Apparently, as I do not remember what it was, I cannot picture the scene yet the statement that I quote, “33 years old and we haven’t got this stuff, life worked out! Are we fuck ups?”
I’m 45! There are many things I ‘believe’ that I have an angle on, some pretty well worked out. Most remain far more distant than arms length yet my imagination can draw them near. I can write a whole story of how life really is and a whole other story of how it should be, could be. How great our imaginations. How great our ability to create. These two short, grammatically questionable sentences can be questioned as incomplete statements. How great our ability to discern?
How much of our (I bounce between ‘my’ first person ownership, ‘your’, second person invitation to play a part and ‘our.’ I decide on the common denominator, the all present participatory? The how much we are alike even though so interestingly all different.) lives can we see in a screenplay? What do we do? Plan? Scheme? Dream or do?
(As any soldier knows), in the first five minutes of any act (of aggression) all plans go to shit. We adapt, we ride it out and make new plans and pretty soon those past plans are just that, past. What a wonderful world we can write, draw, design. In the first five minutes, what do we do?


Do you, in this age of technological ability, hover over the film to see roughly how long is left? Working out where the story may go? Anticipating the Hollywood ending?  
And when there is an unexpected NON Hollywood ending? A twist, a maybe that isn’t predictable, a sad reflection on reality even? Just the not knowing, the no need to compare my life with the perfect screen play life that ‘affords’? Yet here I am suggesting that we all write our perfect worlds. We all create our happy endings, magnificent middles and astounding starts.  Write it and tell it just like you want it. You, I.. If we all do this are we not certain to influence? In the same way that, if a person is told that they are stupid and worthless wherever they go then they will believe such and make no effort to be otherwise? I know it is not always so. In my ideal world I like to think that this happens less so. But I know, I have witnessed the truth of this. (Not aimed at me personally I should add though I too have had my moments).


If we can (reportedly, according to my notes jotted down whilst watching the ‘probably YouTube’ posted documentary somewhere out there in the great space of www) take 50 nations and work together to create a space station, a truly amazing accomplishment requiring the sharing of so many capabilities.  In the name of progress?  Imagine what we can achieve by setting aside some our differences and working to overcome some of the actual problems faced by our planet! The International Space Station ties, Japan, America and The European Space Agency together and “prevents them from becoming major independent competitors”. Wait a second, isn’t that what theoretically drives progress in our capitalistic world?

At this moment I am beyond pissed off with WordPress. I have spent days putting these unfinished thoughts together. I have saved draft upon draft. I added photographs to break up the monotony of my droning on in a non rhythmical fashion. Again I saved the draft. I posted. “unauthorised” Not even a capital letter, no exclamation, no full stop. The majority of my thoughts, truly the larger number and of course the more valuable in quality, disappeared. I feel the desire to blaspheme and insert a choice word of deep expression. But, I let it fall like the things that I’ve half written that maybe I’ll finish maybe not. Nothings wasted, it’s the journey not the destination right? Write?

“Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out…”
~ Robert Collier


About JJBollOX

This is an update. The slight humour aka sarcasm will be lost on anyone who hasn't read this before the update. I am, still a British male. Still living but not in Switzerland. I intend to remain, living and male. When I wrote before I had "spent the better part of two months negotiating the change in my self identity. Unemployed and sharing home with a now ex-girlfriend. I've moved. Moved on. Maybe a year has passed by. Have I moved in an upward direction? Is upward the only way to go if we are to expand, broaden and grow? Realistically, the most dramatic (not exactly decisive) direction I have taken in the time was down. Down, down and deeper than down. I fell off of a mountain. My life got complicated yet simple. This in itself is a fair summary of my personality. I have posted the first words of blogs to be written which I would like to turn into a book. 'A normal life.' Let's see how well and how fruitfully I can express my frustrations, pain, healing process and the constant changes that are life.
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5 Responses to This is a start, but not the beginning. This is not finished, nothing ever ends.

  1. WordsFallFromMyEyes says:

    Love this, Johnny – very varied 🙂 At least you got different colours, if not fonts. I know what you mean – I think varied fonts is a basic, it surprises me we can’t do that. I like Comic Sans MS, myself.

    Ah, well, lives are lost to memories that gray and wear and disappear : hence are passed. Whole events of time, Daniel cannot himself remember of his own childhood. I smile and say “Remember when…” but the memories are passed from his consciousness, gone. It’s like they never were, and they become “passed” as in passed away: dead. But I have them still. They’re not dead in me. Yet, they are passed to him/gone/dead. A whole part of his life lost due to non recall.

    Love the Pink Floyd quote. Well, well said.

    Keep talkin’ Johnny 😉 & good for you putting the blog badge there. You know I’ve voted, I trust!

    • JJBollOX says:

      Sorry that this took some time.. (That strikes me as good epitaph, if I live long enough 😉
      Comic Sans is cool though not for too long I find. The length of a blog piece yes, a whole book no. But that’s only my take, I like the handwriting styles though they really do wear on my eyes after a short time. This possibly says something about the lack of real handwritten reading I (we all) do?
      I am not sure that the parts of our lives that we cannot recall are lost. There are, for example many parts of peoples pasts that they consciously block out until hey truly do not recall them at all. Those parts still made them the person that they are. That they do not or cannot play an active part in that/their past; does that matter? There are many things that I do not remember and I like to be nostalgic at times. What is the balance between looking back; living in the past ‘good times’ and making new ones?
      Mpre than this I have to exclaim, “BUGGER!” Sorry, I meant to credit you and ask your permission at the same time as stealing the badge.. my bad OX I voted for you 🙂 and yes you told me, thank you very much

  2. I remember feeling like doing cartwheels over the simplest things while in Italy. Buying an espresso, cigarettes, & stamps in Italian without a mistake, both in ordering & paying, made me feel such a rush of success. I remember getting off the train in Florence, realizing we had been robbed since stopping in Rome, passports gone, my dearest friend’s camera & journal gone. I couldn’t remember how to say help, I was shouting “un grande problemo” over & over & over. The police showed up finally, most likely wondering what the crazy woman was yelling about. (The camera, the film & the journal were the biggest losses.) I learned so much in Italy, especially when it came to communication. My expressive nature, my ability to articulate in cut throat academia, my intelligence meant little when I had the vocabulary of a two year old. Riding on the back of a motorcycle at 1 am in Lipari, life stretched before me endless with possibility. xx

  3. JJBollOX says:

    Nice writing, thank you! I share those feelings, though not the cigarettes (my loss of passportS, camera and ALL my money were in Greece) ” life stretched before me endless with possibility.” Stretched? It is still stretching, limber up and go get it 🙂 Ox

    • Ah, Greece. Haven’t been yet, but I’m sure it would be funny. Greek men always know that I’m part Greek. A true American mutt, one side Irish & English, the other side Greek & Italian, but my looks are Mediterranean. Later~xx

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