Tag Archives: deception

#362 ~ The Textual Deception

So, for those who have followed this blog, you will acutely understand the palava I have had with phones. Whilst one dropped down the toilet and then was washed in a sink, the other decided to take a nap on a train and never made it back into my pocket. I then resorted to a Nokia 100, which is incredible, because it actually has long life battery power and cannot view MultiMedia messages which just makes life easier – people only contact she they want to say something and not Instagram something.

Sadly, there is a deception within the textual world of communication. You see, one may think or even convince themselves that they are having a conversation. You receive a text, you respond hey pronto, but it is not the same as a verbal vocal conversation, wherein you say something and one responds pronto. The textual deception has been exposed on Facebook. Now one can tell if you have seen the message. I am one of those people who likes to read a message, digest, and then mark as unread, so i can be reminded to respond at a later date. But no! Alas for me, that option is no longer available. Once I click it open I expose myself to the sender, who expects a rapid response. No longer can I chew the words, i must spit out a reply like a mother bird regurgitating for her child.

At least, with my Nokia 100 there is not chance of a What’s App app being used. I can read, savour, and make a mental note to reply later. It also means i can save my credit. Hurrah for non-smart phones, we know where the intelligence really lies.

Advertisements
Tagged , , ,

#307 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo: 27

picture27

They have no idea they’re merely reflections. Look at them, heads bent, focused, so intently focused on ascending, but they’re just descending. Into the pit. Into the abyss, back into the reflections of the fake marble floors which reflect them back up onto the walls, the ceiling, the escalator which is never-ending. Oh these poor people. Caught, suctioned into the court with no exit but an eternal entrance into the gaping jaws of – levels, levels, the ascension of descent into the pitfalls. I just need another, another level, another layer, then i’ll go..over there back into the court.

 

Copyright: Victoria. O

Tagged , , , , , ,

#289 ~ Psalm Series. 3

Consider how I love your precepts!

Yet as I peer in the mirror, I am the faithless one that i contort and view with disgust.

I can recite the repentance prayer, the serenity prayer, the Hail Mary prayer

I can recite the Eucharist and declare it to be and mean all that there

is to life

I can state my love, all-consuming, for your Word

But do I act?

Dare I act?

Am I the talking drum, hollow like the doun doun

as I swerve from your statues

swerve from your law, which I claim to adore…

Psalm 119 vs 159: “Consider how I love your precepts” vs 156: “But I do not swerve from your testimonies.” vs 158 “I look at the faithless with disgust.”

Tagged , , , , ,

#273 ~ And So it Begins

It is deceptive. The mind that is. Perfectly created, iPhoto slide shows don’t even compare to its exquisite capabilities. What could I possibly be referring to, you wonder?

When you watch a Powerpoint presentation, or slide show, the computer programme has an ingenuous ability to subtly and seamlessly slot disparate memories, separated by time, space, emotion, geography and content, into one flawless design of seemingly consecutive events. The indigenous green trees of KZN, miraculously are sprouting deep inside the Indian Ocean, which is really a lake in an English town.

Sitting inside a new room, a new home, which is as unfamiliar and unknown as a country cottage in the depths of Mongolia, the sense that I have never left is itching to warp my perception. It is coupled with the feeling of home. That I am home. I am nestled safely, deeply in the folds of a mother’s bosom, a place that I have never left.

Yet I have changed. Perhaps world-weary, or rather more prepared. Where before one was awake at 3am crying because pinboards wouldn’t stick to whitewashed walls, now 4am rolls by and one sighs knowingly; yes, this is how you play the game.

And so it begins. The start of something new, which has really been a recycled experience, yet wrapped within the folds of reused newspaper is a chocolate surprise. Is it Cadbury’s, Galaxy, Lindt or Roche? That is the unknown element of the known experience.

Place your bets, be prepared…to be…

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

#218 ~ Deceived

Deception doesn’t have to be a severe lie or misrepresentation of the truth. It can come by way of an accident quite easily. The difference between a contraction and a full word. That happened tonight upon the purchase of the film ‘Puss ‘N’ Boots.’ Titled under the same dark green lettering as Shrek, it held the promise of Antonia Banderas, adorable kitten eyes, swashbuckling action and side-splitting humour. We were deceived. A strange concoction of dark French cinema, poor (and I mean very poor, crude and mis-dubbed) CGI, with gravely voiced Jack Sparrow cats with straggly beards, blending of Westside Story songs, ballerinas and octopus ogres afflicted our screen. Oh the disappointment. Uncomfortably attractive it was a beautiful demonstration of either terrible scriptwriting or translation, ‘interesting’ editing and a jarring musical ‘score.’ An experience in deceptive disappointment, one must now remember to always check whether it says: Puss ‘N’ Boots or Puss in Boots.

Tagged , , , ,

#206 ~ One Hundred Words and a Photo : 16

Blood congealed into robust globules, the sheen reminiscent of the violent illumination of rusting iron through the jagged facets of a sanguine sunset. It caked over mottled toes, seeped between peeling skin, and latched bloodthirsty claws into silk wrappings. Poised, elegant and fearless, the cramping arch rolled high into an effortless elongation of the delicately muscled body. Wrapped securely by pale pink hands which melded with the opacity of fresh leggings, layer upon layer increased, built up, stretched and twisted into a muted dance of power and poise. Brute strength throbbed consistently beneath the pale exterior of a graceful aesthetic.

Copyright: Victoria O

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,