Night Messages..#2.

Casper David Friedrich..1825-1830.

Night Messages.

#4 : The Writing Blog.

Christopher Corridini writes and posts a controversial short story on a social media blog, which elicits some controversial commentary from the “in house cabal”.

Noel Bourke..

Corridini, I’ll give you the tip, Henry Lawson, you are not. A fluffy bit of fantasy writing, maybe, but far from believable.

Corridini replies to Noel..:

”Corridini, I’ll give you the tip, Henry Lawson, you are not.”……Why, thank you Noel…I’ll pass that on the next time I meet Henry….”Henry”..I’ll say..”I’ve had the good oil from Cyril Connerly’s understudy that YOU are so much the superior writer than I…….like another drink, bro’?”

Now fuck off, Noel..

K-Leigh..

Corridini…If we put our writing up on a public post, we are inviting comment and criticism. If you can’t take it, then you don’t have to do it. But as Tich pointed out, we rely on donations and readers to keep going. We must be mindful of that. On your own blog, you can do as you please. Here, we try to get along. That doesn’t mean we all agree but we try to be civil.

Corridini replies to K-Leigh..

Passive aggressive at its best

Tich Tailer.

K is right, Corridini.

Coral and I pay good money for someone to promote our articles. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t get the traffic that we do. And without the traffic … we don’t earn the money that goes towards the site’s costs.

Telling a commenter to eff off undermines the work – and money – it takes to bring the commenters here.

Corridini to Tich..

Tich…that “Noel Bourke” did NOT give legitimate criticism…he was just trying to be a smart-arse…surely you have knocked about the sticks long enough to know that..and if HE is the type of reader and commentator you want on the site, then you are lowering both YOUR standards and the site’s standard.

I might add that the petty critique he did offer was of such churlish miserableness, it wouldn’t qualify for a primary school reward star!…such a person with so mean a hand ought not be encouraged…surely?

Personally, I wouldn’t value such low capabilities as a wanted commentator…he’d desert you and the site as soon as you confronted him…but that’s your call…you know how I feel about those sort of people.

Kerri..

This is the real issue with Corridini’s writing: it lacks coherent argument. This makes           for frustrating reading and no doubt frustrated comments.

A good writer knows what they want to say and then they say it. Saying one thing then writing about another entirely unrelated thing is sloppy and self indulgent. Even the most creative writer understands this: refer to Lawson’s poem: its one theme from start to finish.

I agree with Rosemary he would be better off with a Blog or at the very least some heavy editorial reviewing before publication. This will help the author as well as the reader.

Viking Duk..

Once again and for the last time, l’ve had it confirmed why I delete Corridini (the ego has landed).. Corridini dribbles, unread. That legend in his own headspace to me is just another pretentious wanker. So Corridini, please fuck off.

Apologies to administrators, etc., writers and commenters usually don’t piss me off to this extent, so no more, straight to the bin goes Corridini.

Corridini replies to them all..

You bastards are just shitty because this chap; “Corridini” ..a “fuckin’ dago”, has more of an idea of the cultural idiosyncrasies of Australian society then you Anglo’ know-alls..AND can get them down in writing…screw you all!

Enough is enough..

It didn’t take too many posts on this article to see where it is going…My original comment has been vivisected, quoted out of context and extrapolated via the strangest segue into an attack on posters here in general…one can get the slightest feel of the proverbial “nigger” surrounded by a lynch mob.

But to be in the final case asked why I was attacking the site..: “ I can’t quite understand why you were “only defending yourself.” Wasn’t it you who came in first, arguing that we should expect “aggressive attack” and putting forward a case for it?”…..This selective twisting of the whole “argument” of my original on-topic discussion post has to take the cake…and could be placed on page as the perfect example of cognitive dissonance.

And with the moderators in general…indeed..I would say even in a “love-in” familiarity with each other, I have no possible case that I could plead without in-situ prejudice…and now I cannot be bothered to..

So I must say goodbye to those friends I have gained on this site…and rest assured, I leave not because I feel defeated..because as I have before stated..I could take on ALL my detractors here in word for word debate with “one pejorative tied behind my back”…

No..I leave because I can see within the psyches of those detractors that infectious essence we all have witnessed in pictures of crowd panic and fear…all in the defence of their own precious “identity politics”..”I’M an individual, you can’t fool ME!”..you disgrace yourselves and I will not allow myself to become infected by such low cowardice.

Roswell :

I was disappointed by Corridini’s response.

I can’t think of one person here that he has ever shown respect to.

This site would be better off without him.

Corridini, take that as a warning. It’s up to you.

Corridini to Roswell.

Roswell…I believe you are an American….the habit of sucking-up to those in a position of  wealth and power and the habit of those in power using their position to oppress and demand the “toeing-the-line” is a thing most desirable..I believe..of your countrymen…here in Australia, it is called “crawling”…as in “crawling to the boss”…and in THIS country, there was and I would still hope there is a deep resentful aversion to the individuals who would “tug his forelock” to the boss and ” go crawling” to maintain his job…so in the spirit of such a great Aussie tradition, may I just say to you for your threat… GO AND GET FUCKED!

Lovo.

G’day Roswell, crikey mate I would suggest, and this is only a suggestion, that you leave Corridini’s last comment “up” for all to see…..mm.

Roswell.

I will, LOVO.

But it may be the last time he’s commenting here.

Leefe.

How is insisting that men be held accountable for their behaviour “getting bogged down in identity politics”?

Corridini to Leefe.

Leefe..you just did the remarkable thing of both asking and answering your own question in a one line sentence…I take it back….there’s a brilliant mind working away there…somewhere.

Tich Tailer.

“Your threat and my response is going straight up on the Twitter platform”.

I take that as a threat to me.

Corridini replies to Tich, et al.

I’m thinking of this blog like a cabaret room…not one of those smokey, East-end vaudeville halls, but rather like one of those big, flashy Las Vegas cabaret halls, “The Big Room”, where you have the regular performers and every now and then Tich brings on a “guest writer” …a big hitter for the week…like Dr. V.. or George T… …or another…and there we all are struttin’ our stuff “on the boards” before a mostly appreciative audience..

And then there are the blow-ins come in from the gambling halls…the tired public…done their dosh on the craps table or perhaps the poker machines…and clutching in desperation in their hands the “complimentary drink” of cheap whisky and soda…on ice, they come to slake their disappointment and frustration on the house by heckling the performers..The guys, I like to imagine, with the receding forehead hairline but the lengthening skanky ponytail, and that leather jacket that looked all the goods on Thin Lizzy back in the seventies..but not so snazzy now..The gals with their gold-lame’clutch-bags and Avon’d eyes “lookin’ for Mr. Goodbar”…but in a vegan sort of way…all out for as good a time as they can get in these halls of voluminous gowns and wordy loquaciousness…and it isn’t long before you hear the heckled cry…: “You can’t sing a bar like Frankie!! (Sinatra)”….and they look around them for support while laughing that hollow laugh of the losing gambler……..But hey..it’s all good..because regardless of the fears of losing the audience, it’s a known fact that the public will always come back for a good show!

So let the Maestro strike up the band and let the good times roll….I’m feeling lucky!

Bronte.

Well said, as usual Corridini! Please do not stop writing your excellent “diary” entries, at least as long as you are physically able to anyway! Always enjoy your thoughts etc.

Corridini’s last comment to them all.

Thanks for your support, Bronte…but alas…this will be the last post that I will place here…that stupid comment from Tich put the kybosh on my patience with the low wit and intolerance that I have experienced from so many cruds on this site..and now, what with the clamoring for blood from the ball-cutters here, I can only shivver in dread of exposure of my verbal, sexual fumblings as a seventeen year old trying to …like Peter Sarsted [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kb5nPD7V3U4 ]…discover what it was that those ladies were hiding under their clothes!….and now, with what I can only believe that any young male would approach with worrying fear and trepidation the hidden delights of female erotica..there will be more than enough women reaching their mid-twenties with their hymen still intact to be able to claim the next virgin-birth and we can ALL await with breathless anticipation the second coming of Christ to once again lift us males AND females to some sort of abstintential Valhalla!…

Me…FUCK!…I miss the seventies!..

Night Messages.

#5 : The Evil Eye (Malocchio).

Dear Eloise, sorry I haven’t written sooner because I have been helping Franco crush the grapes and make the wine and we have to do it before the cold weather sets in.

I am sitting here in the dark tonight writing this email with only a small lamp near me, as I don’t like telling these things too much and I know the rest of the family doesn’t like it either..They are very superstitious over here in the villages and don’t mention things that upset or disturb what they believe are malignant spirits. The church and the priests do not figure that much in these deeper superstitions as I suspect they go way back to the Pagan days.

Even now, sitting here at the table, I feel there is something watching me from the dark corners of the room…ready to pounce should I write something too revealing.

I wouldn’t have believed it myself when I first came here to live, but now, after thirty years, I too shy away from denying that there is something in these dark stories.

Anyhow, since you ask out of innocent interest and since you are my sister, I am writing this to let you know about the “Malocchio” (Evil eye) that they do here, or take it away, also headaches, warts, etc. is that anyone can learn it but to be able to use it, the chosen person has to be given the mystic words by an old women that knows it to a younger one on midnight of Christmas Eve, and then the old woman can’t do it anymore. So that’s how it’s passed on.

 To test if someone has been cursed, they do it by passing a bowl of water that has been dropped a few drops of olive oil in and blessed three times (here three times is used for everything, or three or five or seven, always odd, never even number, because even numbers are bad luck) and then pass the bowl of blessed water over the head of the person three times saying the mystic words, then set the bowl down and see if the oil drops disappear, if so you have a Malocchio. Then they see after a while what the oil drops form. For example, if it forms a necklace ( the drops one after the other) they say a woman gave you the Malocchio if it forms a mashile (male) thing it’s a man that did it.

Anyone can give a Malocchio even by saying nice things. For example; if you see a baby and say ; ” What a lovely baby” you have to say ” Benedict” Which means bless him or her, otherwise you will give them the Malocchio. And babies are very subject to the Malocchio. If somebody is doing the sauce, wine or other food things you have to say ” San Martino” to them otherwise the sauce etc. will go bad. And they say that you made it go off because you didn’t say San Martino.

We change our wine over on San Martino’s day otherwise the wine turns upside down and goes off.

I have a lot of stories of bad witchcraft that the people have told me and also some true ones. I have one of what happened to Franco when he had a very big wart taken away by a witch from San Benedito. It’s something out of this world, I have got it written down so I will sent you a copy of it, also other stories. I will send them by post as they are too long to write by email. By the way, dad had a cousin at Pescara that was a really bad witch, so I will write about her too.

Well bye for now, say hallo to Brian for me. Hoping you are both well as we are here. Love, Geneveve…

Night Messages..#6.

Random poems from Twitter (of 140 characters or less).

 1)          4 AM.

4 am. I lay warmly abed,

 Rain raps its staccato fingers impotently on the glass

 And my sleeping lady lies naked next to me.

 Croesus’ riches r but nought.

2)          Little dreams of a moth.

I have little dreams,

They are quiet and shy.

I dream of primrose days

And the patterned wings of butterflys…

Sometimes I dream of thee,

And sometimes I dream of us,

But come the Primrose light of day

My dreams fall back to dust.

But when next I lay abed,

Eyes clos’d by night’s velvet glove,

Return to me quiet dreams,

My shy dreams..

My dreams of sylth’n love.

3)         How do I declare that to thee,
What is natural as leaf to tree?
As close a bond as river to reed,
As smile to laughter!
Yourself , my need.

 4)          The cold claws into the bone,

Hollows the heart,

Freezing the home.

Must needs warmth like a summer’s day,

A lover’s frolic in new-cut hay!

5)          The mirror tells its secret tale,

What is REALLY YOU will prevail,

When all may not be as it seems,

The really you will haunt my dreams.

6)         China girl, shy thy eyes,

Lest thy soul I do surmise.

Cherry lips; silk fan eclipse,

Tho’ heart-face turn aside,

Womanly beauty cannot hide.

7)          ‘Neath dark root of Mallee tree,

Quite hid there for  history,

Things thou will never see:

Pots & poems and chipperee

Secreted there of you by me.

8)          Poetry chess between you and me.

You open; Ruy Lopez,

I counter shiny knight.

PLAY!

Until our pieces  do finally see

Checkmate to thee or me.

9)          I held a bird with broken wing,

No more to fly, tender thing.

Put it down or leave it go?

Let nature deal the final blow?

Yet in its small, frightened eye,

A touch of myself do I espy,

Who am I to refuse it balm,

When never has it done me harm?

Why not, with helping touch,

Can I not relieve its hurt,

And with tender love & care,

Will it not sing once more its air?

“It will not fly” you c’ld say,

And does a tree run away?

And does the oyster glued to rock,

Not wait with patience for its food?

So this bird, broken now,

Us together shall allow,

Some moments when we shall share,

A little of life’s splendid air.

10)          Would pebble fall,

From spire so high,

As swift as tear from my eye?

As soft as song from my lips

As deep as a love fade into eclipse?

11)         Through a glass darkly,

I see her face;

Feel her arms in warm embrace,

I see her eyes,

Cherry-red lips,

Tho’ thru’ dark glass as near I get.

12)          Morning, Karen…a tad sad today..

“One of us is gone,

Goodbye old mate..

Errol..

U keep open Heaven’s Gate,

We’ll see you there..old mate.”

13)          Portrait pictures, side by side,

many years between,

Time and tide.

Her lips not now so soft,

Eyes not so wide.

So much ebb between time and tide.

14)            What has one gained

When a tally done?

Are pelf and possessions

Worthy of time gone?

If a smile is lost

And bright eyes grow dun.

15)          I once loved a girl,

(We both were young).

Eyes so sweet, bodies so strong.

Cruel time has left a memory,

But the girl I loved is yesterd’y.

So I am now clasped in a hold,

I cannot stay young,

Dare not grow old.

But cannot stop feeling

What my heart  be told.

Was life,

And all its promises,

But a Judas kiss !

16)          I am a collector of souls ,

I hear people talk ; I ken,

I see what they write,

And I collate,

I am the watcher on the rim of a far horizon.

17)          Croissants /coffee,

REAL coffee..& morn’

Magpies thrill, Galahs shrill,

Chooks chortle.

There’s an egg there somewhere.

Ahh sweet, sweet life!

18)          Eyes of a woman they do betray,

Sweet laughter lost in antic hay.

A smile as wide as a long white cloud,

My random thoughts I think aloud.

And when my thoughts are of thee,

The strangest thoughts come to me.

An open sky of azure blue,

Open sky, sunshine and me and you.

Let’s fly away!

19)           A shaft of sun through the Parthenon glows,

Upon a wild, white Athens rose.

The blossom of that tender bush,

Is tinged at heart with a gentle blush,

When held, ‘tis said, ‘tween lovers fingers twined,

Would, with age-old chant, their voices bind;

“Oh Sun who gives the blush to thee,

     Grant her cheeks may blush for me,

And with the passing of this day,

     Grant the wish I wish I may.”

20)          My hair is silver,
My eyes still shine,
Each part o me,
Is a part o thine;
I am the earth, the trees, the vine,
Drink of me, heart sublime!

21)           In each of us there is that twist,

That in the end will come to this.

No matter the culture, the mother, the art,

Each to each,

Heart to heart.

22)           Could love play a richer tune,
Upon the strings of a harp in June,
When summer at its fullest height,
Doth bathe a world in sweet delight!

23)          Were I to fling a cry so high,
Into the vast, open mallee sky,
Would thou hear, by and by,
Like a memory,
A faintest echo,
A longing sigh?

24)          In this world of hue & cry,
Is peace within you or I,
A silence of the soul divine,
A chant of song so sublime.
Hearty rich as red, red wine.

25)          I lay words upon a blank, white page,

As been done upon an age,

Wither such be wise or no,

Best you judge when I go.

Prithee more than; I don’t know.

26)          None will sing thee

Songs like I..

No-one to whisper;

“To Eternity!”

Never to see in thy sweet face,

Such Tranquil peace of time and place.

27)          Is each of us an idea,

Of what we wish to be; a

Face, body, wealthy King

Gold crown w/fat jewel ring…?

In the end I am but I

MY jewel of mine own eye.