Predictive Sex - Loft In Transition

And that m'lord was when it all kicked off. 

The Plot -

Only as the myriad microbiotic dust settled on the dystopian tea bag of time did we get to properly stir the sea of knowledge – and in so doing sleep deservedly on the bare floor of the outlawed saloon of majesty. 

Not that I would write such a thing as a text message (or at all) but imagine the fun you could have tapping that into your smart slab of iMystery – just to see how it comes out! How many people would it confuse? Well almost everybody – apparently.

Losing The Plot - 

Sorry people but something inside me loved it when Jeremy Clarkson pumped obvious and much needed humour into the otherwise ludicrous Public Workers strike. These folk voting to strike to retain their gilt-edged pensions while we pay them and the fucking bankers? It utterly appalled me. 

JC (great initials by the way) said so profoundly - "The Public Workers should be taken out and shot in front of their families." - Irate media frenzy guaranteed. People! It was a joke. He didn't mean it literally!

(Here comes the serious bit) 

Gross and cynically deliberate misinterpretation is becoming the biggest barrier to civilised humanity. It seems that people are becoming extremists – either totally literal - they only give a damn because it suits the facts they want to hear (and the fact that they don't get out much) - or - completely illiterate - because they don't give a shit anyway (and also don't get out much).

Anyway! It all reminded me of this - 

There Is No Plot -

Mark Twain once wrote that Jane Austen’s books - “madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy. Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shin-bone.”

And no my loft isn't having any work done on it at the moment.

I love the fact that predictive text brightens up the day with the wrong words. I wonder how the great writers of the world would have fared with misinterpretation and fat fingers if they had had the smart/dumb phone. I will pause now and let the great writers vent about their interpretation of others.

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Truman Capote on Jack Kerouac:

“That’s not writing, that’s typing.”

Oscar Wilde on Charles Dickens:

“One must have a heart of stone to read the death of Little Nell without laughing.”

Joseph Conrad on Herman Melville:

“He knows nothing of the sea. Fantastic — ridiculous.”

Henry James on Edgar Allan Poe:

“An enthusiasm for Poe is the mark of a decidedly primitive stage of reflection.”

H.G. Wells on George Bernard Shaw:

“An idiot child screaming in a hospital.”

Gustave Flaubert on George Sand:

“A great cow full of ink.”

Just off to plant a few vegetables down at The Plot - 

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