I have often been sarcastic about Ruritania and made cryptic allusions to the Queen of Ruritanias rose in my more bitter poems;
`Honour! Honour and Lies,
Well the Queen of Ruritania sends her rose,
And it dies.’
Honour and Love, two things I can easily be bitter and cynical about because neither is as easy as they look and both are hurtful, yet they stand on a pedestal of being ok to hurt with because they are right. I can almost feel my mouth twisting with cynicism at this point. A preprepared rant is waiting to be activated, I know all the words already.
How I hate love and honour, how they bind, how I refuse to let anything bind me…for what else can freedom be?
But I think that Ruritania has got to me. I think it taught me whilst I was sleeping or crept inside my heart and tied it’s knots inside me.
For how can love co-exist with honour? For how can honour exist with freedom? Anf yet I think I understand how love and honour and freedom exist.
Love can exist for a second, an eyeblink and need nothing more. Honour can exist for a lifetime if Love can exist for a second. And I think I freedom is a head word not a body word, and in the head things get left unsaid.
Someone let Ruritania climb inside and take hold…and the cynicism doesn’t even have the decency to fight back.
Ta Daemonic! Nice to know my fears were appreciated. Do you remember the Fit Barmaid calling the living room from her bedroom to scare us all even more?!
There’s them as would say that freedom without boundaries doesn’t exist.
From a strictly logical perspective, they’re right; but I’m not sure that can be said to be anything else.
That being said, love is the tie that you enter freely; it’s a tie that can leave at any time, and so it’s not an impediment to freedom.
Honour, being a code or assortment thereof, is a whole other story…
aaaaaah the ring, i have fon memories of watching that with you and someone else and the pair of you being scared shitless – i was sat in the middle of 2 gorgeous women who were both scared and i – like the big butch man i am (not) – had to endure the hugs and the "i cant look – cover my face" god its a hard life lol
yes i know the post about you buying the ring was a little while ago but i’ve only just checked the site and thought there was no point replying to an old post as you probably wouldn’t have checked it. peace and hugs.
‘love is the tie that you enter freely’ said the Man of Taste.
Hmmm perhaps love is. But I’m not so sure that Love is. And no I’m not going to clarify what I mean by the difference. I used to make big on ‘luv’ and ‘love’ but that doesn’t fit it at all.
If you don’t understand the difference then you’ve never felt it, or you’re lying to yourself. Either way I hate it but I couldn’t live without it.
And if anyone else emails me to complain about how this entry was personally directed at them then for fucks sake shut up, if I screwed you that means we screwed it does not mean that I’m moping in my diary over you. Please endevour to remember that Mish is a self-obsessed person and since this is her diary she wallows in navel gazing an awful lot, no one is forcing you to read this. If you want to read about yourself then go write your own blog.
Hmmm perhaps love is. But I’m not so sure that Love is.
I think I understand what you mean by that. I’ve loved dozens of times in my life, and some of those for only short periods of time. But I’ve only Loved a handful, and not all of those were willing. There were times when I Loved, and cursed and berated myself for doing so.
I think I get what you mean, but I also think you’re not quite getting what I mean.
There’s an emotional ‘you’ as well as a rational ‘you’ and both are as much you as the other. The emotional ‘you’, however, is half-buried in the subconscious and difficult to fathom, operating on its own rules. And it’s this that does the deciding, not always on good grounds.
That make any sense at all? Or not?
Well ok Man of Taste I’m