I’ve not ever really know where to stand on this vexed issue. I know resentment burns one up on the inside and I know that holding grudges–harbouring feelings of having been unjustly wronged for too long–can corrode the innards of one’s soul, dampen any moment of merriness and darken any happiness. Yet, it is well known and regularly said that forgiveness is freedom and moving on without making retribution is liberation. That it may be, I just don’t know. I’m a full-on Jackel and Hyde, a bit of a bonny and a bit of clyde. I’m, you know, split within but i’m also maybe not really in a position to judge. Or am I? because nowadays i’m my very own private echo chamber (technically I ain’t, but he knows and I know that I fucking well actually am – one could have a thousand and one suitors but if he ain’t amongst the parliament of bees, it is little more than a hollow chamber pot). I know the desirous attractiveness of planing revenge, I know torturous torment, i know the feeling resulting from being labelled B. S.–i’d sooner roast in a Brazen Bull than let that one lie; I’d rather the thumbscrews be turned forcefully anticlockwise (mix in too, for poetic effect, some under the nail bamboo splits); i’d prefer the cat’s tails lash whilst spreadeagled and stretched over a rack-like horse of harshly sawn Sussex oak–I’ve read the hallowed words: there ain’t no wrath like that of a lady wronged, well yeah that be me. I’m stranded here and your there and yeah I know – i do know – you are fucked too but: Clean break huh? What the fuck’s that all about? Together forever? Two hearts beating as one? Soul-fucking-mates? You’re having a fucking larf darling, a full-on delusional & demonically demented laugh.
“her days were spent dallying with her inamorato.”
My swain he did swoon
Loopy’s the ship’s loon
cock-swing née ‘coxswain.’
“we’ll dither and dally and together go fully doolally.”
So in the canon that I know, we’ve two diametrically opposing stances (set out for your perusal below, in Items 1 & 2), and yep for sure I get the notion that one chooses one’s horse depending on the course the hay-fed old nag’s gunna havta trot and canter along but come the fuck on: ain’t this the case of sitting one’s big fat derrière on the fence par excellence? I am a vegan pacifist wit large, but when it is downright up close and personal well ain’t that Italian thing called “vendetta” quite something stellar and spectacular? Just saying, because, well maybe, in practice it’s every so very base and entirely abhorrent.
Turn the other cheek
An eye for an eye
Copy & Paste, ha ha ha.
3,500 years ago, King Hammurabi of Babylon compiled a series of commands regarding the day-to-day life of the citizens of ancient Iraq at that time. These commands, which dealt with topics from divorce to contracts to murder, were preserved on a diorite stela, binding future Babylonian kings to Hammurabi’s new code of law. this stone (shown below video) is on show in Paris at the Louvre Museum. And guess what? One of the 282 laws did say: an eye for an eye and The Life of Pi.
Love ain’t for the meek and that I’ll state to be a Category One CLASS FACT.